#i do not think being over 20 is being old

[beardedjoel]

indebted

dark!joel x f!reader. one shot.

main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: you're having a bad day. one you think is getting better once a rough around the edges man comes to your rescue. you didn't expect it would takes such a sharp turn for the worse. first person pov reader. 9.2k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! NON CONSENUAL SEXUAL ACTS, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, pervy, sleazy, and foul mouthed joel. degradation, sexual favors, forced oral and piv, virgin reader, corruption, innocence, and daddy kinks featured. biiig ol' age gap (reader's age not mentioned other than "young" but i imagine her as 18-20 as she has a relatively immature attitude, imagining joel 50-55), this is not for everyone and that's okay. i'm not responsible for the content you consume.

a/n: i had some hormonal induced insanity and came up with this. i had a great time trying out a new pov for writing fic! enjoy him as much as i did, friends 🖤 and thanks @joelstummy for the amazing freaky beta work!

I’ll be the first person to admit now that what I’ve been doing is stupid. Dangerous. Idiotic. The list goes on. I can hear my father’s stern, militant voice in the back of my head, telling me as much. Except now he likely won’t get the chance to relish in it because I’m going to die here. Way out here where nobody will find my body, and I’ll be just another person that went missing in the QZ, never to be seen again. But this time, it’s not some sleazy FEDRA scheme and coverup or a smuggling deal gone wrong.

It’s utterly and completely my fault.

Sneaking out wasn’t meant to become a habit, but after the first few times, I lost the fear and adrenaline that had burned hot through my veins at those first steps of freedom. I craved it again, so I kept going further. And further. Away from civilization as I knew it, until the cluster of buildings known as the Quarantine Zone became a tiny speck in the distance. Out here was desolation, nothingness, only abandoned buildings to explore. The infected were another story, but I started to learn routes that helped me avoid encounters with them.

It helped clear my mind after a while, this newly found sense of adventure. All I’d ever known was a cage, a walled city that had become so mundane I felt my insides starting to rot from the listlessness of it all. My father was important - top in the rankings - I knew that, and it was all the more reason to keep me safely locked away while the city stirred with chatter of an uprising against FEDRA. 

He never bothered to check on me much, anyways, making my little forays quite easy. Once I’d persuaded enough people with ration cards, they’d shown me the tunnel leading to freedom. Well, that tunnel, then another, a ladder to climb back up to the surface, and only then could I go through a precarious hole in a chain link fence. That was the smuggler’s route, they said, an easy ticket to getting in and out without being noticed. 

I’d been abusing it, staying out for days at a time, never able to drink in enough of this quiet solitude that was of my own choosing, not my father’s. I couldn’t quite figure out what hole inside of me I was trying to fill, but I’d be damned if I stopped trying.

However, today seemed to be my last chance to try at all. His footsteps had been quiet - so quiet - approaching behind me. An old store, full of half decayed plushies, molded candies, and other adorable things from lives long put in the past, had called to me, distracted me. The arm around my throat, constricting, the other coming up to put a hand over my mouth. A dirty, putrid smell encompassing everything as I sputtered against him. This is it, I’d thought. What a waste.

I scream and fight against the strong hold he has on me, a nasty sneer right against my skin. “What’s some fresh meat like you doing waaaay out here, huh?” a dark voice rattles into my ear.

I scream behind his dirty palm in response, kicking my legs back at him. I should have learned more self defense, but who needs it when you’ve spent most of your life safely tucked away with your family name as your biggest protector?

“You smell good… real good…” The creep’s voice buzzes by me as he takes a deep breath in, making me shudder. One swift kick and I’m sure this is it, the one to knock him senseless and let me escape. He’s smart for how distracted he seems to be by my scent, and he’s one step ahead of me. My legs are kicked out from underneath me as I rear one back, and I fall to the ground, the man coming down with me to sit on my back, straddling my body in a fluid motion. He grips my hands behind my back, leaving me helpless in my fight, kicking and screaming. I’m ice and heat all at once, my body burning in a frozen blaze, my fight or flight quickly turning to fawn as his weight presses down on me.

“You can have anything in my backpack, anything! Please, let me go! I - I don’t want any trouble,” I choke out pathetically, hating how my voice comes out in shaky waves. This isn’t how to appeal to people like this, people who have lost their sense of humanity, evident by the way he’s now grinding himself down onto my jean clad asscheeks. 

A laugh comes out of him that would haunt me as evil incarnate for the rest of my days if I wasn’t so sure that I was going to die at the hands of this man after he was done with me. “We both know I don’t give a fuck about any damn backpack of yours. I don’t want any trouble either, sweet cheeks, I just think you’d have a lot of fun with me and my friends. But mostly me,” he replies with the hint of a wink in his voice. 

My stomach clenches, sickness rolling in that is only furthered as the man leans down, cloaking me with his large form. I can’t turn enough to see him, to even know what this violation of a man looks like, but his energy is beyond hideous as I catch a glimpse of his yellowing teeth in a grin before he pushes my head down to the cracked linoleum tiles. My hair tangled in his fingers, he holds me down hard, and I struggle to breathe as he crushes me beneath him.

“Now, are you gonna come easily, or do I need to do things the hard way? Either way is fine with me, for a fine piece of ass like this. In fact, I might prefer it the hard way, but we’d hate to ruin this pretty skin of yours, wouldn’t we?” He says slowly, pressing the cold blade of a knife to my throat.

“O-okay, okay,” I acquiesce, stopping my squirming, just needing a bit of room to breathe, my lungs heavy inside my chest. My panic only makes my chest tighter, even when the man leans back the tiniest bit. I had hoped that my sudden compliance would get that knife off my throat, but it hasn’t. “Just don’t hurt me… please…” I whimper.

He lets out a long, ragged sigh. “Afraid I can’t promise that.” 

I’ve never felt fear like this, such certainty that I was about to be ruined, my life as I know it changing without a chance to even look back. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for it, for anything he’s about to do next, finally accepting that there isn’t any appealing to scummy men in a scummy world. But nothing comes except for a muffled crack ringing through the air, and then a thud as the entire weight of my adversary falls on top of me, crushing. Something warm has splattered on my skin, my face, then starts to coat my jacket, seeping through. I shake violently, begging my body to catch a full breath under the weight of him. 

Then as suddenly as it happened, it stops, the body yanked off of me and tossed to the side with ease. The deafening thud of his entire weight onto the ground is stark. I flip over and scramble backwards, grabbing the knife that had fallen from the man’s hand in his swift, final moment. Holding up a shaky hand, I grip the knife tightly, looking up to face a brutish, tall man with overgrown hair of chestnut and gray. A trim beard with the same coloring wraps around his tightly set jaw. He’s all wide shoulders, thick arms, broad chest, and my senses go on high alert again. His gun is practically still smoking as it hangs at his side, an active threat.

“Y’alright?” he drawls, thick and deep, echoing through the abandoned shop. One step closer to me has the knife practically flailing as I struggle to calm my hands, a strained hum alongside my shaky breathing the only sound I seem capable of making.

“Put that thing down,” he says calmly, almost exasperated. His stance slackens, one knee pushed out as he sizes me up. I’m likely the most miserable looking thing he’s seen in a while, I’m sure. “You’re harmless.”

“H-how do I know you’re not with him?” I blurt out.

My gruff savior lifts his brows incredulously. “That guy?” he asks, motioning impatiently to the dead body only a foot away. “Think I’d be puttin’ a bullet right in his skull if he was my best buddy?”

My eyes dance over him as I think. He has a point, and he did just save me from whatever debauched things that stranger’s mind had been conjuring up.

“Y-yeah, you have a point,” I finally say. He steps closer, and this time, I let him, putting the knife down. He motions with an authoritarian air for me to push it away, and I obey immediately, flinging it across the room. 

“Poor fucker died with a hard on, didn’t he?” The man muses as his boots thud on the way over to the body, kicking it slightly as if to check, letting it roll back before turning his attention on me. “Now, are you usually this stupid, comin’ into hunter territory, or what?” he asks, reaching a hand down to me, presumably to help me up.

“I didn’t know…” I mumble, letting his hand hang there. He doesn’t snatch it back right away, although I can tell he wants to, that he’s already beyond exasperated by his day and the last thing he’d wanted was a damsel in distress like me. I hate that he’s proving all the things I’d been trying to disprove about myself by coming out on these solo trips into the great, big outside. I’m weak. Dependent. Needy. It makes my skin crawl with self loathing and frustration.

“Didn’t know, huh? So just clueless, then?” the man spits out, staring down at me with darkened eyes that make me turn my head away in shame. At my sullen silence, he seems to soften a little. “I’m Joel,” he says, an offering to go along with his outstretched hand.

I sigh, taking it and telling him my own name. I’m up on my feet, dusting myself off and looking at him shyly now. I don’t know what people are supposed to say when someone saves their life, so I just mumble, “Thank you.”

Joel snorts, nodding in acknowledgment as he crouches to pat down the body, seeming to come up short of anything interesting. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says, standing back to his full, towering height, glancing around with sharp eyes. “We should move.”

I might be as stupid as he says, because I wordlessly start to follow him towards the door. His hand stretches out behind him, open and inviting me in as he checks outside the door with a careful peek, his gun held tightly in the other. I stare down at it in disbelief. “C’mon, I don’t bite,” he sighs, that perpetual vexation in his tone again as he twitches his brows at me. “Need you close by. An’ it seems you have a tendency to go where you shouldn’t.”

My cheeks grow hot at the harsh truth of it, and I grasp his hand without any further objections, marveling for a moment at the way it envelops mine. All calloused and hard, mine soft and unused for labor of any kind. 

“I’ve got a safehouse not too far from here.”

“A safehouse?”

“It’s already gettin’ dark. There ain’t no way we’re making it back to the QZ today, princess,” he retorts quickly, the pet name mocking on his tongue.

“How’d you know?” I ask softly, disappointment pressing in on my shoulders.

He chuckles out more of a snort, pulling me around a bend, slowly leaving behind the dangerous territory that I’d unknowingly encroached on. “You’re a FEDRA princess if I’ve ever seen one,” he tells me, and my heart sinks that I was so easy to read. I’d seen how capable this man Joel was, but damn was he was astute, more than I’d given him credit for. 

I chew at my lip. “Fair enough,” I mumble under my breath, letting him take his well earned win. The longer I hang onto Joel’s hand, letting him expertly weave me through the barren streets, the safer I start to feel. He knows where he’s going, a practiced route he’s taken countless times, and it hits me then that this man is a smuggler. He has to be.

“Are you a smuggler?” I ask pointedly. “I’ve heard that people like that come in and out of the QZ.”

Joel falters for just a brief second, giving me a wily grin. “Look who’s readin’ who now,” he says with a dry chuckle. “Ain’t gonna run and tell your daddy, are you?”

I shake my head, pressing my lips together in a smile. “I can keep a secret.” In fact, I like keeping secrets from my father, hence the sneaking out, so Joel can count on me to never rat him out.

His amused grin in response lights a little flame akin to friendship inside of me. This grumpy old bastard could smile after all. “Just through here,” he says, letting the smile drop, taking a sharp left down a street just as a sprinkle of rain starts to fall on us. It’s a less urban area - more like a neighborhood - sprouted with apartment buildings and abandoned, vine covered cars. It’s my favorite thing about all the exploration I’ve been doing, seeing the way nature can reclaim anything and make it her own. 

The cracked street below us makes me tread carefully, lagging behind as Joel’s hand tugs me along urgently. We turn down an alley, Joel whipping his head left to right before dragging me behind him, finally dropping my hand to open a door that leads right into a tiny lobby and a stairwell. He runs a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back some - a rather handsome look for him, now that I’m thinking about it. I try to ignore that thought as his voice booms through the empty room.

“Up,” he commands, gripping my hand again and leading us up the stairs. 

My stomach sinks a little when he takes out a key, unlocking a padlock on one of the apartments numbered 405 and pushing the old, chipped door inwards. I have no reason not to trust Joel, he saved my life afterall, but I can’t shake the nerves I feel from being in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar man. It’s quiet here, likely nobody in the vicinity but the two of us.

“Home sweet home,” he grunts out, dropping his backpack and gun holster near the door and shrugging off his damp jacket, leaving him in a plain tee shirt that hugs his muscular frame. It’s a small, cramped apartment with a living room and kitchen directly next to it, a little window cut into the wall, peering in on the living room from above the stove. It looks as if it’s left exactly as it was years ago, full of furniture and clutter, only a vessel for Joel to use without making it his own at all. I peer past to see a small hallway I can only assume leads to a bedroom and bathroom.

“Know it ain’t the palace you’re probably used to, but we’ll be safe an’ dry here,” he say, and I roll my eyes behind his back. If Joel thinks that I live in a palace, he’s clearly misunderstood the state that the QZ is in. My father’s house is spacious, sure, but it’s just as dilapidated as the rest of the city. The only difference is the level of protection afforded to our homes.

He ambles into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets with a clatter, then comes back moments later with an open can of beans and two forks. I’m still standing in the entryway, unsure of what to do with myself.

“Hungry?” he asks gruffly, and I shake my head, wide eyed. I’d lost my appetite the minute that man had grabbed me earlier, and I couldn’t seem to get it back. Joel shrugs, digging in with a messy forkful of from the can. “Your funeral,” he says, chewing.

Joel sinks down onto the couch with a tiny groan, setting down the can on the side table next to his armrest, giving the other cushion an expectant look. “Well, you gonna sit your ass on down an’ tell me why the hell I had to save it today, or what? Why the hell you’re wanderin’ around like it’s a free for all out there?”

I flinch slightly at his harsh tone, but gingerly step my way into the room, unzipping my jacket and shedding it. For the chill outside, the temperature inside the apartment is more comfortable than I’d expect, my skin welcoming the change. Joel eyes my thin tee shirt, and I feel a flash of heat sweep my skin before I feel the prickle of goosebumps, knowing my nipples are poking through the fabric. His eyes catch there before he promptly averts them.

I sit precariously next to Joel on the loveseat, pressed as far away as I can from him, not wanting to cramp his personal space. But he seems to have no problem with that anyways, his legs spread wide open in a comfortable stance, leaned back against the cushions. He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut for a moment as he awaits my answer. 

“I was… exploring,” I say simply, cringing at how ridiculous it sounds coming out of my mouth. Who leaves perfect safety to wander around in a dangerous world on purpose? For no other reason than curiosity and a sudden, rebellious sense of defiance?

His eyes snap open, head pulling up from the couch, turning my way. “Explorin’…” He mulls on the word, slowly licking his lips before pursing them. “You’re tellin’ me I had to save a FEDRA brat today ‘cause she was explorin’? You really are stupid. ‘Course you are, look how young y’are. Look how fuckin’... sheltered.” Joel throws his hands up, landing them on his thighs with a soft thud, sighing. “Can’t even blame ya.”

I pluck up every bit of courage I have, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “Look, it was really nice of you to save me and everything, and I do thank you for it. I’m sorry if I messed up whatever… smuggling stuff you had going on today, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me… stupid.” The last word is quiet, mousy, and I turn my head down, eyes shining with unshed tears that I silently curse myself for. My father’s voice rings through my head - you stupid girl! - making me shudder.

Joel sucks at his teeth. “Hit a nerve, I see,” he says passively. “Alright, I’m sorry kiddo. I just mean, you’re puttin’ yourself at risk doin’ what you’re doin’, and it ain’t a smart idea. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I sigh out, relaxing a little. “I just needed to get away.”

“From your dear old daddy?” he teases, picking up the can, shoveling several more bites into his mouth. I go silent, picking at a thread on the couch rather than answer him. “Ah, another nerve, I see. Daddy issues. Could’ve guessed that one.”

“I don’t have -”

“Sweetheart…” Joel interrupts, looking at me from under his brows, pulling his lip between his teeth, seeming to look at me in a fresh light. It sends my skin tingling, the way he eyes me, a glint in his stare. It seems to prove his point, the way a pet name from a middle aged man seems to immobilize me against my will. I want to slap the smug look off his face, but I have no grounds to do so, only grumbling quietly with my cheeks blazing in embarrassment. A prickle of something else works its way deep into my belly, something warm at how his scrutinizing eyes flick over my body, the lines in his face set, showing his age, his experience. 

“Take a piece of advice from a man probably as old as your daddy, then. Trust me when I say that outside those walls ain’t the place to find what you’re lookin’ for. The sooner you let go of that notion, the better off you’ll be.” 

Frustration blooms hot in my chest, overpowering whatever the hell that sudden, unwanted feeling was. I’m tired of people dictating what I can and can’t do, what I’m capable of. “People do it all the time - smugglers - you would know,” I retort. “I’ve been doing it for months. Never had a problem until today. It was just some bad luck.”

“Bad luck? Really? You’d be that man’s newest little cock sleeve if it weren’t for me savin’ your ass,” Joel growls, standing up off the couch. I wince at his vulgar language, the picture it paints in my mind of what life might have been like if Joel hadn’t happened to be in the right place at the right time.

“I - I know - I’m sorry,” I blurt out, feeling my hands start to go shaky. “Thank you, Joel, I really - I really do owe you. Everything.”

“Like I said, don’t thank me yet.” He steps over so that he’s in front of me, using his boot to part my legs, scooting them apart and standing between them. “Think I did all this out of the kindness of my heart, did you? Didn’t think that maybe I was after the same damn thing as buddy boy earlier?”

I’m like a fish out of water, the way my lips move with no sound coming out. “Joel…” I breathe out in warning, in questioning. I see his arms strain in his t-shirt, hands flexing open and closed.

“I can’t say the thought ain’t crossin’ my mind now. You are mighty pretty. And you do owe me a favor. One big ol’ gigantic favor, for savin’ your backside.” He brushes his fingers along his jeans, palming his crotch for a brief second before leaning forward, caging me in on the couch with hands on either side of me, pressing into the cushions. My heart hammers in my chest so loud I expect Joel can hear it, can feel the fear taking hold of me. He bares his teeth above me like a wild animal, and now I’m certain he can smell my fear too, that he thrives on it. 

“You know what? Maybe you were bound to find what you were lookin’ for outside those walls. Maybe that’s what you needed, is it? Couldn’t find any love from daddy back home, so you wanted to find someone to turn you into their own personal little play thing. Poor baby just needed some attention, did she? Sad, really.”

My hands tremble, my words lost as I can only breathe in shaky little breaths, shaking my head violently. How can this god forsaken day keep getting worse? 

“Please -” I mumble out, bringing a jittery hand up to my mouth. Joel slaps it away, gripping my chin harshly at first, inspecting me before his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. I’d think it was gentle, caring, even, if not for the nasty look spreading across his face, the grin that darkens it along with his eyes.

“Time to put this pretty thing to better use and show how grateful you are to ol’ daddy Joel,” he says, using his free hand to deftly unbuckle his belt, the jangling sound like a death knell, making my throat go dry. “Promise I’ll be much better than he would’ve been earlier. People say I’m… a generous lover.” His drawl is slow and calculated, voice deep with lust, the sly smirk turning to a triumphant grin as he chuckles, amusing himself.

He grips the top of my head, pushing me to slide down the couch cushions into a slump as I struggle, powerless against a man of his strength. He positions himself higher up to bring the giant denim bulge right in my view. I wince, trying to turn my head away as his zipper comes undone, his hand grasping deep into the fly of his jeans, yanking his cock out. When it springs free, I gasp as he lets it slap me in the face. Hot, throbbing, and massive, leaking a shiny bead of precum that had ended up somewhere on my cheek. I sit stunned and held in place by his rough hand. 

The cold hard fact hits me that this is the first time I’m ever going to experience intimacy of any kind. Hell, I’ve only had one kiss before, and it was when I was ten years old, with a boy belonging to one of my father’s friends, a name I can’t even remember now. The first penis I’m ever seeing is right here, right now, in a context I have had zero control over. It’s thicker than I’d imagined one could be, softer too as I look at the skin of it. Veins run along the sides and bottom, all leading up to an imposing, angry pink head at the tip, practically bursting as it awaits me. It’s magnificent and terrifying at the same time, nothing like what I’d expected based on the half-assed health classes provided by schooling in the QZ. Sex has always had a shroud of mystery for me, and I never imagined that all those secrets, long awaited, would be uncovered like this. A dingy bedroom, a man likely almost three times my age, and me as an unwilling participant. Desperation swiftly grips my chest as I realize I actually have no clue what goes on behind closed doors between two people, and I have a feeling I’m about to find out in the crudest of ways.

The fearful innocence I know is about to be stolen from me causes tears to sting at my eyes, fat little droplets that instantly start to roll down my cheeks, leaking onto Joel’s large fingers still gripped around my chin. I start to struggle, my body seeming to catch up with my mind, loud warning sirens of DANGER! DANGER! finally blaring out in a panic. When I squirm, Joel plants one of his knees into my body, keeping himself balanced while still being able to hold me down. 

“Don’t cry now, honey, it’ll only make him harder.” He sneers as he strokes his cock, slapping the head against my closed lips a few times. He wrenches my jaw down, forcing it open. “Nice ‘n wide for this big boy, there we go,” he says, not waiting a moment longer to barge his cock past the opening while he has it. 

He groans loudly as he shoves several inches in right from the get go, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. The hand that had been holding my jaw presses in on my shoulder, holding me in place. I’d have nowhere to go, anyways, with his knee on my thighs, his entire body caging me in, the cushions giving me no leeway to the way his cock is forcefully intruding, inch by inch down my throat. The taste is all consuming - a little salty, a little ripe, tasting like days of Joel’s old sweat, but it’s not completely bad, not what I’d have expected. It’s heady in a strange way, clouding my mind as I try to cope with the fullness in my mouth. 

The next moment I sputter, my eyes popping open wide, flooded with tears as he hits the back of my throat. I try to gasp for air and I find that I can’t. This is torture of some form, it must be. Full panic follows, where I try to move, but every avenue is pinned down in some way by Joel’s massive body. I weakly flap at him with my hands but it barely even deters him from rocking his hips in and out, choking me again on the thrust inwards as the back of my throat tightens, gagging around his thick girth. 

“Open up, relax your goddamn throat,” Joel hisses at me, keeping his cock pressed fully to the back of my throat, constricting any airflow I was hoping to have. I finally breathe shakily out of my nose when he pulls back just enough, only to slide it in slowly, his eyes carefully watching me. I glance up for the first time at him from below, hoping to find any shred of humanity he might have for me, but I’m met with an icy, dark gaze clouded with lust, power. 

“Gonna fuck your face now, like the dumb little slut you are. This is what stupid girls get for wanderin’ around by themselves. This is what they ask for.” He punctuates the last words with a sharp thrust inwards, my entire body convulsing with the gag I sputter out around him, drool pooling around my stretched lips. I would whimper if I could, if I even had the air to do so. 

Joel is relentless for the next few moments, rapid thrusts in and out of my mouth, my head held conveniently in place against the couch cushions for him. He groans deeply, his pleasure evident while I’m just trying to get my next breath in. I time them expertly, learning as I go, letting him continue to take from me to gain his own pleasure. 

“That’s it, that’s right, you’re turnin’ into quite the good girl,” Joel mutters above me, rolling his hips with vigor and making me gag again. I can feel drool dribbling down my chin, my neck, landing on my chest, and it makes me feel ashamed, embarrassed, and a twinge of something else. I can’t tell as Joel grunts, pumping himself in and out of my gruesomely contorted jaw, if the fact that it’s something even remotely sexual has me feeling things I shouldn’t. My cheeks burn hot as my eyes continue to water - how much of it is crying and how much of it is just my body’s response to him hitting the back of my throat, I don’t know.

Then he surprises me by slowing down, languid strokes of his cock in and out with sloppy sounds, a soft hand landing on my head, stroking before bundling my hair in his fist tightly. “Knew you’d have such a filthy little mouth for daddy,” he coos, rolling his hips forward a little further, touching the back of my throat with his cock. 

My body spasms a little when he keeps pushing, grumbling quiet groans of approval. My eyes squeeze shut, leaking out an onslaught of tears. I don’t want to see the aftermath if it ends up that it’s one gag too many and the inevitable happens. But to my surprise, he keeps slipping down, intruding on my throat. I try to keep my trembling body still, wanting to keep my throat relaxed, terrified of what might happen if I fight this. Can a person die this way? Could I really choke to death on this man’s dick? 

“Jesus fuck. Lord have fuckin’ mercy…” Joel breathes out as he pushes even further. “Swallowin’ him down, aren’t ya? Feel me right in here, I bet.” I flinch when he touches his hand to the column of my throat, wrapping his fingers softly around the flesh. When he starts to retreat, the choking is back in a second, but Joel holds me by the throat, keeping my neck craned back, returning to the brutal way he’d been abusing my mouth. I groan and sputter and try to cough through all of it, my mouth stuffed full over and over again before I can get a breath in. 

He’s relentless, and then it stops all at once, his cock popping out from between my lips with a wet, lewd sound. A stream of drool follows, a gush that dribbles down onto my already soaked shirt, and I cough violently, my hands flailing to clutch at my chest. 

As soon as the pressure of Joel’s body lifts off of me, I’m scrambling to somewhere, anywhere else, my limbs stiff and achy, my jaw panging with a soreness I’ve never felt before. He stands in front of me, one hand shooting out to grab the collar of my shirt before I can even get fully off the couch, pulling me close.

“Does it look like you’re done showin’ your gratitude yet?” he growls out, gripping the back of my head and forcing me to look down at his cock, still standing at full attention, shiny and dripping with saliva. I swallow hard, the lump painful on the way down. Joel shakes my head for me, the burn at my scalp making me wince. He presses his hips flush with mine, forcing his erection against my thigh before slipping it between them. He leans in close, hot breath ghosting over my face before his lips brush mine.

“You do make a pretty cocksleeve, y’know. Suckin’ cock like a cheap whore, wonder if you take it the same way in your cunt.”

I whimper, shaking my head, the tears non-stop as they roll down my cheeks. “Please… don’t. You don’t have to do this…”

Joel scoffs. “If I put my hand down your pants to that pretty little snatch, tell me I wouldn’t find you wet right now.” He punctuates the words with a sharp pull on my scalp. I cry out, lip quivering, trying to shake my head. “Don’t lie t’me after I’ve been so, so generous t’you today.”

I’m spinning around, a dizzying sensation, Joel’s strong bicep brought across my chest as his other hand delves below my waistline, plunging deep, right to my cotton panties, bypassing the waistband of those, too. Without care, without any sense of boundaries, his fingers explore, slipping through my sensitive slit with ease. I yelp, squirming at the intrusion, and Joel’s deep chuckle behind me confirms what I already knew, what I was beyond confused by.

“Thought so,” he says gruffly, then he cups my entire mound, giving an almost comforting sensation, holding his hand tightly pressed to it. “Nothin’ to be upset about, we’re just havin’ a little fun, payin’ off your debt to dear ol’ Joel, okay?”

I shake my head. “I - I shouldn't be here… it shouldn’t be like this,” I whisper in a cracking voice, hanging my head low as the tears just keep coming, damn them. 

Joel’s fingers start to move slowly, just starting with one, stroking gently up my lips, spreading my slickness around. I’m surprised that it feels good, a pleasant little tingle zipping right to my core that I quickly lament, hating myself for it. “What shouldn’t be like this, hm? That you shouldn’t like my cock down your throat? It’s perfectly natural, doll,” he says, somehow soft and condescending in the same breath.

“A-all of this,” I whimper, “Please, j-just let me go. I w-won’t say anything, I won’t do anything. I just…”

Joel quietly shushes me, letting his finger do the talking for a moment. It drags up to my clit, rubbing tiny, enticing little circles. I bite my lip hard, enough to taste copper, trying to suppress the moan climbing its way up from my chest. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay that it feels good. It’s ‘sposed to. Good little sluts like you don’t know any better, don’t care what it is that’s gettin’ their panties wet. Desperate,” he growls, fingers sliding through the slick mess that’s now drooling onto the cotton. “Just relax, let it happen…” I feel his breath, hot on my ear, before he nibbles, biting down hard on the earlobe, tugging it with his teeth. It bursts out, the whimpering moan I’d been holding back, just as he pinches my clit at the same time as the bite.

He laughs. He has the nerve to laugh and it sends a shiver down my spine, my brain muddled and confused and turned on by the eroticism at play here. He soothes me by nuzzling my neck, taking a long, deep breath in. I squirm as Joel’s hand retreats, and I wonder for just a moment, a brief, all consuming moment, if maybe he’s seen reason. When his fingers find the buttons of my jeans, my heart plummets to depths previously unknown as he unbuttons them, pulling the zipper down slowly, the only sound in the room his harsh breathing right on my neck.

“Please, I gave you what you want already,” I beg once more, feeling it fall on deaf ears as Joel tugs my jeans down, revealing my pink cotton panties. They’re my favorite pair - were my favorite pair - a rare find in a world like this. Pretty pale pink with a nice lacy trim and a little bow at the front. Only now, they’d belong to Joel.

Joel clicks his tongue in approval of the sight, pulling his head back to peer at my underwear from the back before his hand grips my ass, jiggling it roughly. “Oh, you’re jus’not getting it, are you? You feel this?” he asks angrily, letting me feel the hard length of his cock pressed to my ass cheeks, threatening to slip between my thighs. “This means you didn’t give me nearly half of what I want yet. He’s still achin’ for ya, princess.” 

I grit my teeth, hating the pet name, the way he’s using who I am to mock me. It’s a low blow. I hated everything to do with being associated with my father - I knew he wasn’t a good man - and I hated most that it was so obvious to a stranger which echelon of society I belonged to. If I was so important, where were they now, huh? I want to scream those words at him, but instead I just feel my legs tremble underneath me, my knees feeling like jelly as they almost give out on me.

“Please!” I struggle against his hold, but it only makes him grip my ass tighter, hard enough to bruise. “I-I’m a virgin,” I suddenly squeak out, unsure of why I say it other than some last ditch effort to deter him. My heart pounds as he stills, dead silent with his hand grasping my ass like it’s his next meal, like he owns it. 

“Well ain’t it my lucky day. Shit, that’s why you were sputterin’ all over my damn cock, ain’t it?” he says as the epiphany dawns on him, laughing. My cheeks blaze hotter and hotter, hating that I’m even embarrassed at my lack of experience and skills, like I have some sick need to impress him. He notices my tension, my head hanging low as I cry new tears, and says, “Hey, hey, nothin’ to be ashamed for. In fact…” His hand fists in my underwear, tight and unrelenting. I feel his cock press against my ass again, harder than ever before it slips between my thighs. “Makes me awful excited,” he purrs, bringing his mouth to my ear again.

I only give him a timid whimper in reply, squeezing my eyes shut as I realize there is nothing I can do to stop this man. He thinks I’m a cheap whore, and he loves it. I’m a pure virgin, and he loves it even more.

He squeezes me tighter to his chest, my back starting to sweat through my thin tee shirt. “The hell were you savin’ yourself for anyways? Marriage? A sweet pussy like this?” At my silence, he cups my pussy hard, letting the dampness of my underwear soak into his palm. “Answer me!” he barks out.

“I - I wasn’t! I don’t know!” I cry out, trembling.

“Well,” he says, fisting my panties again, starting to pull them down. “M’honored you’d let me be your first, sweetheart,” he drawls, and I nearly scream at the insinuation. I’m not letting him do anything. 

I start to put up more of a fight, useless against his thick arms holding me so tightly. Cool air touches my ass and the space between my thighs as he manages to shimmy my panties further down even in my struggle. I clamp my legs shut in defiance, roaring out a strained grunt as I keep trying to squirm out of his grasp. He huffs in anger, trying to subdue my writhing body before he pushes it towards the couch. I land hard, banging my knee on the hard edge that supports the cushion, wincing and trying to catch my breath. I’m practically in position for him already, ass pressed out towards him, on my hands and knees.

“Gonna make me do things the hard way, are you?” He scowls, his free hand fisting in my hair again, pulling me close.  His breath is hot over my shoulder, the sensation vile against the skin of my cheek, stained with tears. “Been too long since I found a pretty virgin like you. An’ ruinin’ this perfect, pure little cunt is jus’ the cherry on top of a perfect day f’me.” 

I feel his hard cock twitch against me, a reminder of what’s to come. The movements are quick for how bulky Joel’s body is, let alone his age, as he exchanges the hold across my chest for my wrists, bundling them behind my back. I cry out at the strain, the awkward angle he’d twisted them to, fighting him again until a hard smack lands on my ass. I scream through gritted teeth, not giving up the fight, but another thwap! rings out through the apartment, making me falter. My tender flesh screams at me in agony when he lands another spank, even harder this time, then another, until I’m crying unrelenting, fat tears.

With me rendered motionless, Joel presses down, bending me over, my balance tricky with my hands behind my back. My face nearly touches the couch, but I’m precariously held up by the wrists, the strain already making them ache. The warmth dripping between my thighs betrays me as my ass stings in residual little pulses, so raw and sore but spreading a pleasure through me that I’ve never known before. 

I don’t have time to dwell on it before Joel is grasping one hand on my hip, notching himself at my entrance. “Promise you’re gonna like this, that you’ll never be able to think of anyone else’s cock but daddy Joel’s,” he spews gruffly in my ear before he thrusts hard, one swift motion to bury himself inside of me. I scream out, the searing pain between my thighs making me wonder if I’m being split open for good, if it’s possible that some things are just too big to fit in certain places of the body. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Joel hisses through his teeth, making the tiniest thrusting motions to ensure he’s buried deep. Every movement pierces me with a new sting as my body desperately tries to adjust, to accommodate the horrible, overwhelming intrusion. “You were not kiddin’, sweetheart. Tightest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever been in.”

I sob, unable to speak, unable to move as Joel thrusts brutally from the get go, his hips snapping with force, crashing into mine hard enough to bruise. The lewd sounds we make disgust me, because I know I’m part of those sounds, my body enjoying the filthy things he’s saying, the way he’s taking me without remorse. He pulls himself out, clicking his tongue as he peers down between our bodies. “Christ, you are one sexy little bird. Poor little virgin bleedin’ on daddy’s cock.”

The thought horrifies me, making my stomach turn. “Please,” I cry out, my body rocking with the motions as he starts to fuck me again, the strain on my wrists as Joel uses them to help thrust himself inside of me starting to gnaw deeper into them. I’m like a ragdoll with the way he’s jerking me by my wrists, my body having no choice but to flail in time with the movements so that he can press himself deep on each cruel thrust inwards.

“You want more? You beggin’ already?” Joel grunts between his heavy breaths, sounding so cocky it makes me want to spin around and punch him. I settle for gritting my teeth instead, feeling my body slowly but surely melding into his. When Joel presses me down further, forcing an arch in my back, I whimper when his cock hits something sensitive, deep, primal. Fuck, is it something. 

“Oh, that’s it. We got her now, don’t we?” he says from above, continuing to stroke his cock along that spot repeatedly. I feel myself losing my will to fight, hating the pleasure but feeling myself lean into it slightly, my hips pressing back to meet his nearly against my will. “You ever come before, sweetheart?” He leans in a little closer to ask the question, the pistoning of his hips slowing the slightest bit.

I refuse to answer, tears pooling in my eyes. I don’t want him to take this from me, I don’t want him to know anything about me. He jerks my wrists at the same time he slams his hips into me, and I whimper loudly, feeling the way he’s surely bruising my insides. 

“If you ain’t figured it out yet, the rules are that you answer me when I’m askin’ you a question if you know what’s good for ya,” he spits out, and I shake my head, letting it hang limply.

“Use your words. Say ‘no, daddy’,”  he says with sinister condescension, stroking his own ego.

“N-no… daddy…” I say, my tongue revolting against the words, bile climbing up my throat.

He moves his hand to my head, stroking carefully and softly. “Oh, that’s a shame. That’s a daaaamn shame. All pent up, y’are. But daddy will make it all better.” He sounds deranged, sick, like he truly believes that I’m thankful to him for what he’s doing to me. I can’t answer, my mouth gaping open just as he releases my wrists, letting me fall to the couch with a thud. My open mouth gets a mouthful of the cushions, making me sick over the fact that it’s probably full of god knows what due to its age and whatever things Joel seems to get up to in this apartment of his.

I blink as Joel grips tightly at my hips, wondering why he suddenly trusts my hands to be free, when it happens. He thrusts into that spot again, harsh and unforgiving, and I nearly see stars behind my eyes as the head of his cock punches against things I didn’t even know were there. That’s why. I’m incapacitated at this angle, brutally forced to enjoy the pleasure washing over my body as Joel takes from me, actually giving in return this time.

I bite my tongue hard, not wanting to give him any satisfaction for the tiny moans that are growing louder in my throat, desperate to be let out.

“Let me hear you, princess. Daddy doesn’t do with quiet girls. I can feel you clampin’ down on my cock, know you’re lovin’ how I use you up like you were meant for it.”

I shake my head in protest, but a strangled sound escapes past my tight lips when Joel slams into me harder than he has yet, puffing hard as he fucks me like a greedy animal. He chuckles through heavy breaths, little whispers of that’s it, come on, take it, flow freely from his nasty mouth. 

I feel myself slip away, further gone from reality as the warmth spreads from my pelvis into my belly, coiling tight. Everything tingles, set on fire, the spot where Joel handles my hips with his fat fingers practically burning with a constant mix of pleasure and pain. I cry out when Joel’s cock pulls that feeling out from deep inside of me again, half a sob and half a moan as it crescendos, waves of pleasure crashing over me.

Joel’s grunts of approval, so brutish and debauched, sends a new wave of arousal through me. I tremble, eyes squeezed shut with my body completely out of my control, taken over by this boundless bliss. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before: heavenly warmth worlds above any of the pleasures I’ve known. This had to be what Joel was referring to, urging me towards, telling me he wanted to make me come. This had to be what I was missing out on all these years, hiding myself away. Was this the reason sex was so coveted, so sought after? Was this feeling… the reason he’s doing what he is to me right now?  

It feels like it’s never ending, my body so rigid as it spasms yet pliant as he fucks into me harder and harder. I loathe the noises I’m making that intermingle with his as I squeeze my eyes shut, enjoying it.

“Fuck, fuck - that’s it - f-fuck knew you’d love it. Come on my cock, baby, that’s right.” Joel’s string of praises reach my ears as I come down from my high, limp and yielding to whatever it is he wants to do to me now. I have no fight - my bones turned to jelly, my body sore all over, my throat scratchy from the way he’d assaulted it earlier. I only have it in me to give the rest of myself over, whether I like it or not. 

“S-so fuckin’ tight, lettin’ me take your virginity like a good little whore,” he punches out, pounding into my sensitive cunt like it’s saving his soul, like it’s the only thing he could ever care about. I’m on the precipice of coming again, my nerves still frayed and on edge from the last one. A smaller but still powerful climax takes over, my body shuddering and tight, milking every last second of the pleasure. 

“Gonna blow my load into this pure little pussy, make it mine - fuck - gonna fill you up like the cocksleeve you are. P-probably never want to be without my fuckin’ load drippin’ out of you again. I-I’m close, fuck -” Joel rambles as he ruts his hips deep, one final thrust and a grunt, and I feel him stall, pulsing into me. 

It’s all suddenly very still, an eerie quiet settling over the room. My entire body burns hot, the only thing keeping me from collapsing is Joel’s hands still anchored on my hips as he leaves his cock inside of me, plugging me up. I want to cry again at the sudden, overwhelming shame I feel, but I can’t give him the satisfaction. I can’t.

Joel pats my ass a few times, pulling out. I tremble hard, falling forward onto the couch without his hold, instantly curling in on myself. I resent the way I’d noticed how empty I felt the second he was gone, how cold my body was without his warmth pressed into it. I dare to peer up at the sick man who stands above me, catching his breath, watching just as the last bit of his softening cock gets tucked back into his jeans. He swipes a hand across his forehead, gathering sweat, staring down at me with a darkened expression, grinning cockily.

When he plops down on the couch next to me, picking up the can of beans he’d been eating before, my mouth hangs open in surprise at how casual he’s acting. I watch his face shine with sweat, his breathing still labored, but everything else about his attitude would indicate he didn’t just force himself on me. 

I try to keep my expression neutral for my own safety as I feel something leak out of me, not even wanting to give him the smug satisfaction of having to confirm my suspicions about what it is. I do my best to position my body so he can’t see between my legs as I try to pull my underwear up from where they sit near my knees, my jeans following. Joel only gives me a knowing glance as he takes a bite, conscious of the fact that a part of him sits inside my now soiled underwear, and a part of me now sits inside of his soul. 

He shoves the can my way and I shrink back at his sudden motion, not taking it from him. “Eat. I ain’t havin’ you all weak and despondent for the next time.”

I feel my heart sink down past my ass, my stomach plummeting along with it as nausea overtakes me, a dizzying sensation clouding my vision. He couldn’t have said what I think he did. I - I’d paid my debt, whatever it was he thought I owed him for saving me when I didn’t even ask him to. For saving me and then doing exactly what that man had planned to do anyways under the guise of a caring, noble rescuer.

“N-next time…?” I manage to make my mouth move, my throat to produce a sound, pushing the question out in a voice that doesn’t sound like my own.

“Know you said not to call you stupid but my house, my rules, an’ sweetheart…” He looks at me under his raised, expectant brows. “My stupid, stupid girl. Did you really think that would be enough? That I’d get an opportunity every man dreams of - an untouched, perfect pussy like yours, to keep all for m’self, and throw it all away?” He’s creeping closer as he speaks, shrouding me on the couch with his huge frame, caging in where I lay, my body wound as tightly as it can to itself to block whatever he’s thinking of doing next. “Now you don’t think daddy is that dumb to let you go knowin’ all that, do you?”

I sit stunned silent underneath him, wide eyes fixed in a tortured gaze on his rugged face, but his hand squeezing my thigh is warning enough for me to shake my head, stuttering out an answer. “N-no. No…” I whisper. 

Two approving pats on my cheek send Joel slinking back slightly, his dark, unhinged eyes staring holes into me as they roam over my body. Despite nothing even visible - my chest hidden underneath my arms and legs clamped tightly - I feel violated, objectified. 

Terror rips through my chest as reality settles in slowly but surely. I look at the man I’d trusted once, who’d shown himself to be a friend, or at the least an ally, currently feasting his eyes on me like I’m a product. Which now, I suppose I am. A whore. His whore.

“Now,” he says, licking his lips, that hungry gaze already returning, a bulge appearing in his jeans and stretching the fabric. “All I’ve got to do is decide just how long I’ll keep ya for.”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

[ashlinxsloves]

-AARON HOTCHNER HEADCANONS-

The promised hcs for our favourite hot dilf Aaron Hotchner 🤭 I hope you guys like them, it's gonna be a little lengthy and I've divided them between Basic, SFW Dating and NSFW.. Minors please don't interact with the nsfw content.

–Basic–

Hotch would be the type of guy who listens to classical music around the team, but once he's alone in his personal car, he has a whole collection of CDs in his glove box of his favourite bands and albums (The Beatles, etc.)

He'd also listen to audiobooks during long drives home. The genre can vary between the classics or just a light novel.

A huge overpacker. He packs the essentials during cases, but if the trip is personal, he packs almost everything – sunscreen, mosquito repellent, a map, extra batteries, a flashlight, etc. You'll never know if it might come in handy

Dad instincts are strong af, will know something is wrong before it happens

Wakes up at the crack of dawn. Became a habit after working so long in the BAU

Hotch is overall a light sleeper. Mostly because of emergencies or sudden calls from the BAU

The king of overworking. Before Haley died, he used to work so much that he got nosebleeds. He does it less now and spends more time with Jack than with paperwork.

Likes his coffee black with two teaspoons of sugar. He doesn't like it too sweet but isn't bitter either.

He most probably had a secret rockstar phase in his teens. Crazy shoulder-length hair, studded belts, band tees and EYELINER. Stopped after he became a junior in high school though.

Used to blame himself for failing to save the victims during his early years in the field. He tries to remember every person he failed to save in the past and compensate by saving more while being calm and tactful.

Spends a lot of time with Jack during the weekends. He's trying to make up for lost time after being so busy with his job than being a father. They would go on road trips, and theme parks and would do a whole lot just to see his son smile.

Hotch would unironically start drinking apple or pineapple juice after Jack just asked him to. Just for no reason at all.

He gets horrible migraines because of staying up late and not getting enough rest.

-SFW Dating-

When the two of you just started dating, he wasn't 100% sure of it because 1. your age gap (reader would be in her mid-20s) and 2. The fraternization rule in the Bureau.

The both of you kept the whole thing a secret for about four months until the team figured it out on a random Tuesday.

"I- I mean it was pretty obvious from how Hotch was hovering over you all the time and the ways his stoic face softens when he addresses you. Not to forget the way his pupils dilate-" "That's enough Reid."

When you were gonna meet Jack for the first time, you were quite nervous about it, but Aaron reassured you that he'd love you (and the little dude did).

Hotch would try to take you on dates, but it was kind of hard with your hectic schedules.

So it would usually be movie nights at his place along with some takeout dinner after putting Jack to bed.

It took Hotch a while to open up to you, but you were there to support him and he was worth the wait.

Picks you up for work and drives you home even if you told him that it was okay and you had your own car, he insisted on driving you home and seeing you get there safely.

Brings you coffee and something sweet from the cafe. It's his way of telling you he cares about you without the team teasing you after he goes into his office.

He would start to think irrationally after finding out you got hurt during a case. He wouldn't be able to think straight on the way to the hospital and blurted a mumbled 'I love you' while putting pressure onto your wound.

When you sleep over at his place, he loves seeing you wear his old college T-shirts.

Hotch thinks about Haley a lot and feels guilty for it, but you understand that she was his first love and he peppers you with soft kisses to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart... I know I shouldn't be thinking about what could have been and focus on what is.. I'll do better, I promise.."

Calls you to his office sternly as if you were in trouble but in reality, he just wants you for himself in the office for a little while.

His heart clenched yet light when Jack asked him if you were going to be his new mommy.

Pet names would be rare when it comes to him. What really matters is when he calls you by your name. But the occasional 'Sweetheart' and 'Darling' might slip out.

He shows you his unserious side. It was a whole 180 for you and it made you fall for him even more. He's an adorable dork.

Even if the two of you are dating, there's a fine line between being together behind closed doors and pure professionalism. Hotch is still your superior and there wouldn't be any special treatment even if you were his significant other.

But when he realizes he gets too rough with you he will apologize in private after the case.

His love language is quality time, so he tries to be around you and Jack as much as he can.

Cheesy pickup lines to try and make you laugh during a hard day. Only in private though.

Knows what to do when you're on your period. He'll bring a heating pad, warm fuzzy blankets, your favourite snacks and painkillers.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT MINORS DNI!!!

-NSFW Dating-

• The sex is incredible. Hotch knows all the right places to hit and how to give you a godly amount of orgasms.

• He starts out slow, letting you get used to the stretch and how much he's filling you up. You can practically feel his cock in your throat from how full you feel.

• Gentle feather-like kisses on your forehead, telling you how good you feel around him while starting to move his hips at a quicker pace.

• From slow, gentle thrusts, it changes into something more primal and rough. As if he were lashing out all his frustrations from work into your tight, little pussy, trying to fuck you into next week.

• And he does it well. He fucks you senseless until you're coming on his cock multiple times before he finishes and spills his cum into the condom he's wearing.

• He just loves fucking you in the missionary position, because he sees how your face contorts in pleasure.

• The first time the two of you slept together was at your place after a really stressful case and the two of you had a drink too many.

• Obviously, Hotch was still a bit sober but you were out of it. He wouldn't do anything without your consent, but you had dragged him into your bedroom and things got heated.

• Bruised your cervix one too many times. The two of you rarely have any sex but if you do, you go all out. He apologises with an amazing bath and breakfast in bed.

• Amazing aftercare. He'll take care of you after the both of you are done, even if he's tired. He'd always clean you up, get you a glass of water and press soft kisses on your shoulders. Cuddling and whispered confessions under messy sheets.

• Not a big fan of having sex in public spaces. He needs privacy when he's trying to fuck and pleasure you.

• But he does know about the dirty fantasies you have about getting fucked on his desk. He's seen the books read and articles you look up. Not like you could've hidden it from him anyway.

• He fulfills those fantasies to the best of his capabilities when no one's left in the office and it's just the two of you. He looks through the last of his files, calls you to his office and closes the door.

• His tie was loose, sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms. His hair was slightly dishevelled as if he ran his fingers through them multiple times.

• Hotch makes you suck his cock until you're gagging, being a little rougher on you. Then he got you splayed on his desk, pushing your pencil skirt up and ripping your stockings by the crotch area.

• When he noticed how wet you got, he smirked, moving the gussets of your panties to the side. He then flicked your sensitive clit, making you whimper as slick gushed out your weeping hole.

• “You like this, don't you, sweetheart? Lying on my desk, messing up my paperwork with your slutty pussy?”

• He's not the type to degrade you, but if you really wanted to he would. But he wouldn't go too far with the insults.

• He's a switch. Since he's usually dominant in most of his everyday life, Hotch lets you take over once in a while.

• Loves going down on you. He likes loosening your tight hole with his mouth and savours the taste of your essence on his tongue.

• Hotch goes weak when you go down on him even if he doesn't ask you to. Praises and soft grunts.

• Isn't the type to be loud. Mostly pants and let's out soft groans when your pussy convulses around his shaft.

• Loves hearing you whine his name and complain how deep he is.

• Once he saw you looking at a site involving different positions, but the one that piqued his interest the most was the mating press.

• Was curious and wanted to try it with you. Hotch was too riled up to put on a condom that night and filled you up to the brim, having you pressed into the mattress, your calves over his shoulders as he buried himself deeper, hitting so many new places that it made you see white.

That's all for now, I hope you liked it 🤭🤭🤭

[unidentified-moe-object]

Fuck it, it's late, and I wanna go to sleep, but I probably won't be able to until I've properly articulated this somewhat batshit gender social theory I've been rotating in my mind for a while now - I think that the current "crisis of masculinity" in the western world was catalysed by the invention of the nuclear bomb. Note that this post is unfiltered, unedited brain noise and bullshit

So, essentially, traditionally masculine personality traits are good for being a hunter or a soldier, but they kinda suck for anything else. If you want to, like, function in modern society, traditonally feminine personality traits are much better for that. This is why we see, for example, girls consistently outperforming boys in schools these days.

Now, in ye olde days(tm), society actually needed to have 50% of the population as potential soldiers to throw into a meatgrinder for a few square miles of dirt every 20 or so years. But at the end of WW2, the nuclear bomb was invented, and suddenly great power conflicts are something that no-one can win and are to absolutely be avoided at all costs.

So, given that a proper great power conflict will probably cause the extinction of humanity, society doesn't really need to have that many soldiers anymore. But people still haven't gotten the memo yet, and are still conditioning half of the population into soldiers from birth. And what do soldiers do when they don't have a war to fight? The recurring historical problem is that a lot of them become bandits.

The only real solution to this is *wesker voice* complete global feminisation. That is to say, the abandonment of traditionally masculine personality traits and the embrace of traditionally feminine ones. So long as we remain shackled to the corpse of masculinity, we'll never be able to move forward. This will likely be a very slow process, taking place over the course of hundreds of years and not being complete until long after anyone reading this post is dead, because frankly like 95% of people - man or woman - do not want this to happen, they want men to continue being traditionally masculine. There's a lot of societal inertia that has gotten us into this mess. This change will only happen as, gradually, over the course of many generations, people stop wanting that.

Notes:

This is one of the things that frustrates me about reactionary masculine gender influencers. By trying to bring about a great masculine revival and encouraging men to be more masculine, they are harming the very people they claim to represent, they are encouraging people to become more maladapted to the society they live in, whereas becoming more feminine would be becoming better-adapted

Japan might be a bit ahead of us here. Feminine traits in men are depicted as positive and even romantically desirable in a way you just don't see in English-language works. I suspect that if an English-language writer were to try to do that it'd come off as kinda preachy, as if they were trying to convince *themselves* to be attracted to those traits. Whereas Japanese-language writers don't need to do that because they genuinely do find it attractive.

Alright, actually going to bed now

[pennyserenade]

common people | jim o'mahony (the delinquent season) x reader

summary | old enough to know better, but too exhausted by life to really think about it, you have an affair with a man you met on the bus. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | explicit smut, questionable morals, age gap (reader is in her mid to late 20s, jim is in his early 40s), pinv, angst, infidelity, unprotected sex word count | 3.6k+ a/n | this is sadder than i intended it to be, and perhaps less sexy because of it because at the end of the day i fear i'm a thought daughter more than a thot daughter. one day we'll find the balance, girls. just not today. love ya

The line that drew you here – sitting on the bed in your shoddy three bedroom flat with your mouth wrapped around Jim’s fingers – is by no means a straight and narrow one.

It had begun with a glance. You had done it because you wanted to feel seen. Jim had sat on the opposite side of the bus, wearing a puffy winter jacket, his black hair peppered compelling with visible grays, and his face had been indifferent as he watched out the window of the bus. With his arms crossed over his chest and his lips pressed into a pout, he struck you as an interesting subject. You had allowed your eyes to roam over the sharp sculpt of his jaw, and to inspect the enticing dust of freckles along the bridge of his nose, which danced out to the hollow of his cheeks. Then you caught his eyes as he turned his head in your direction. The sweet thrill of being noticed itched up your spine, just the way you were used to it doing.

Jim hadn’t let his face of plain indifference shatter in the wake of being watched, but you knew that he was watching you too, and that was enough. That wasn’t to say he was special. There’d been other people - other men - whom you had engaged in this game of sorts with before. Before Jim, it really meant nothing. You did it with people you didn’t even find all that attractive, just to know you could. There was the power in the act of maintaining eye contact with these people, and you liked the ambiguity that resided in the length of your stares–what it could suggest, or what it could lead to, even though it never had. The only thing that separated Jim from all of them was that he looked back for longer, and in his eyes you saw something more potent.

Sometimes you wonder, the way you, as the other woman, are apt to do, about the way he is different for his wife. Does he gather her in his lap? Does she put her mouth around his fingers and does he hum in delight for her, too? Or is this yours, just as that first shared glance was on the bus?

His fingers sit heavy on your tongue now. They taste of nothing. You arch into his body and his lips form into a smirk that makes you bloom inside with an insidious warmth. This man is someone’s husband, and he is spending a Tuesday afternoon in your bedroom. He is the creature of adulthood that lurks in your barely post-graduation adobe, a shape of security who sometimes brings your flatmates bottles of inexpensive ale and dinner to keep them amiable when his wedding band gleams in their direction. To make matters worse, he is older than you – so much so that you wouldn’t like to tell your mother about it, even if he wasn’t married.

Drawing his wet fingers out of your mouth, Jim trails them down your body, bunching up the fabric of your sleep shorts between his fists like a greedy child. You reach between your bodies and pull the leather out of his belt buckle. The clack of it resounding through your stuffy room makes you feel obscene and naughty. He marvels at the way you take initiative, his blue eyes following the diligent movements of your fingers as they work the belt through the hoops in his pants.

He leans back on the bed for you, and with a soft sigh, he accepts the cold tips of your fingers dancing across the skin of his lower stomach. You linger there, tickling over the hair below his belly button, relishing in the warmth his body has trapped beneath his jumper.

Before you pull the sweater up any higher, he takes your eager hands in his palms. “I didn’t even ask you how your day was yet, you know?” he says, voice airy—too light for how earnest you feel about fucking him.

A coil of frustration winds up inside of you. It must be treason, these small intimacies of his. Not only is he a husband but a father, too: an island of his own; a man with a country to abandon, to betray.

You offer him a placid smile. “It was slow. I was waiting for you.” Your fingers escape his grasp and he winces when they race out to his warm skin again.

“Mine was fine too, thanks,” he laughs, his own fingers gripping onto your hips. You ignore him, in no mood for conversation.

Jim allows you to draw his shirt above his arms. He pulls you closer against him after you do, your body flat against his exposed chest. You can smell the tea you made him on his breath, and feel the lustful fascination he has with you poking against your hip. He may be the most interesting thing that has ever happened to you, and you might be his.

You snake your hand down the front of his jeans, measuring the width of his want, the strength of your appeal. “Fuck,” he hums against your mouth. The deep timbre of his voice runs through you, causing slick to gather between your legs.

Jim opens his mouth for you, licking his tongue against yours as his fingers slide down the slope of your stomach to your clothed cunt. When you draw out a surprised breath, Jim inhales, taking your air before pressing his lips harshly upon yours. One hand curls round the back of your neck, holding you there. There’s a primal aspect to this, some need that existed before the both of you being manifested. His other hand cups your cunt, and he watches with invested interest as you grind down into his palm, desperate for release of any kind.

After a few moments of you grinding above him, Jim retracts his hand from you. Smiling, he takes off your shirt as you undo your bra. It’s a dance you’ve practiced so many times together, and it happens without falter or failure this time. You fist a handful of his salt and pepper hair as his warm tongue traces circles around your freshly exposed nipple.

Moaning softly, you rut against his crotch, trying to relieve the ache that grows between your legs as the warmth of his mouth wets your pert nipple. His tongue begins to trail up, wetting the skin of your chest, and he guides you back on to the bed. Nibbing softly at the skin below your ear, Jim’s hands slip off your shorts. You help, raising up your hips.

He smiles down at you, a soft, gentle thing, and you feel like a co-conspirator–a shameful title, but oddly thrilling all the same.

“Oh, Jim,” you say softly, before he has even touched you. Caging your lip between your teeth, you watch him as he stands on his knees before you, making room between your legs. Your head feels full. He doesn’t even bother with taking off his slacks. With the tip of his cock leaking already, he strokes himself, showing you, allowing you to see what you wanted to all those months ago on that bus: how much he wants you, how much you can be wanted. It is an accident– an incredible error–that you throb at him looking at you lovingly as much as wantonly these days.

You’ve read the reddit forums: women, like you, who know better and do wrong anyway. You’ve read entire threads about the reasons why they do it, and how they cope with it, and most of all, you search out the women who have seen themselves all the way through it. It scares you to think of all the paths this could lead to, when it wasn’t ever meant to lead to anywhere. Will you be the jilted lover in the end? One of the women who talk about how liberating it is to be free from something so private and soul crushing? Or will you end up concocting a story with him like the women who marry their men do? The ones who say they met on vacations or in bars months after the divorces have been filed so as not to be treated cruelly by the public? And could you live being either of those things?

“Missed you so goddamn much,” Jim whispers against your mouth, bracketing your head between his hands. You take his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him hard, pulling him more closely to your body, as if your desire will eradicate that you want more than just lust from him these days.

He lines himself up to your entrance, his intense eyes watching your face twist up as he inches inside of you slowly. Jim is thick, and a little bigger than the other men you’ve been with in the past. It takes a moment for you to adjust around him, but he gives you it, kissing you tenderly until he‘s bottomed out inside of you. “Gotta be quiet,” he whispers against your lips. He swallows harshly then, as if having to digest his own sounds.

You feel the ghost of his breath against your chest when he hangs it down, watching the way you connect together. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you allow him to go deeper, pleading with him inaudibly to stay inside for longer. His hand pushes strands of your hair away from your face. Sweat begins to gather between your bodies, and he moves inside of you with the care of someone who is used to being discreet.

When the bed begins to creak beneath the sway of his hips, something primal unfurls inside of you. It is evidence that this is real. Evidence he allows - that he encourages - his needy fingers moving down, griping the flesh of your thigh as his cock slides back inside of you with ease. He grunts against your shoulder. “Fuck. Fuck, you’re so wet, darling,” he says. “Wanted me badly?”

You nod, turning to your head to capture his lips. You slide your hand underneath the waistband of his slacks, gripping onto his ass, guiding the movements of his hips as they press into your own. You feel an overwhelming desire for him, a thing bigger than you would like. It is warm, and blinding, and makes you stupid. “Wish you could be inside of me all day,” you say, meaning it.

“Fuck,” he whines. “I want—I want that, too. You’re taking me so good.”

You can feel the increasing ease with which he settles deeper and deeper into your body. “You make me feel so good,” you tell him. Your voice feels like it’s coming from some place deep inside of you, another version, who wants everything and can say it.

“Do I?” he manages to say, eyebrows threading together. He’s not really paying attention to what’s coming out of his mouth no more than you are. His eyes drop, looking at you beneath him, and then his head does too. His mouth wraps around your pebbled nipple, tongue swiping against your chest. He hums: the same satisfied song he sang you when you put your mouth around his fingers.

“Do you fuck her like this?” something inside of you speaks, hungry, desperate, needy. “Your wife?”

Too turned on to stop, or perhaps prepared for this inevitable question of yours, Jim gives an abashed, crooked smile, but does not stop.

“I fuck you like this,” he whispers, his voice low and sultry. It is such a non-answer, clever and just right. His hand comes up and gropes at your breast.

For a moment you imagine it, let the whole idea take place. Some woman you do not know, a faceless but important woman, older and wiser. She wears a wedding band on her left ring finger, and is elegant and caring. He has told you that she likes to go to the theater, and that she is a good mother. She is not the type to cheat. In fact, she is hardly the type to have a husband that cheats, either, but then life can be impossibly cruel, and not what you imagined it might be. Jim pulses inside of her, telling her he loves her, meaning it, probably. When she says she loves his cock inside of her, it doesn’t sound needy or submissive but erotic, demanding, and he asks her for another child, maybe. The things you do to save a marriage.

A man can only have so much, and you’ve never been particularly demanding. You won’t win this. Even here, under him: you want to give him everything, to allow him to tell you what to be and when to be it. His hand curls around your mouth, his head burying in the hollow of your neck. There is the warmth of his tongue against your flushed skin, and the idea that he could leave whatever marks he might like on you, despite the fact that you can’t do the same to him. You’d let him, happily. This he knows.

He does not tell you that he loves you, but instead mutters, “I want to make you feel good.”

In some ways, you have more than his wife does. Maybe what he’s given you has more weight, more truth; maybe it will last indefinitely longer than marriage vows that have been said and broken. You grip onto one of his arms as he pushes inside of you. You tell him, “You are.”

His skin has grown damp and warm beneath your fingers. You run your hands down his back, becoming intimate with the muscle and sinew of his frame as it writhes above yours. He grunts as the movement of his hips become more frantic—shorter and steadier thrusts, the creak of the bed too loud as he settles himself deeply inside of you.

It doesn’t make you feel embarrassed. It doesn’t even make you ashamed. An overwhelming flame of desire engulfs your soul, and all you can focus on is the way he feels: hot, warm, the full length of him stretching you and yet still looking to go deeper and deeper still. His mouth finds your shoulder, and you listen as he pants against the flesh there, stalling an inevitable end. He slows down, and you relish the slow push and pull he does with his hips. You’re sure you’ve never been so wet in your life, and he seems to agree, moaning at the sound of your cunt taking him.

“I want to ride you,” you puff out, brushing your lips against his ear. He nods eagerly in agreement, and you assist in pulling down his slacks until they’re hanging around his ankles.

Deftly, he kicks them off into a dark corner of your room, and then looks up at you, light eyes clouded with lust. “I love when you tell me things like that,” he tells you softly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His hand finds your breast, his mouth sliding across the column of your throat. “You’re so fucking hot. You gonna cum on my cock?”

He twitches inside you and you kiss him hard on the mouth. “Yes,” you whisper back.

Jim pulls out of you slowly. He sits in the spot next to you on the bed, lifting himself up onto his elbows in anticipation. You straddle him, gripping onto his shoulder for balance. He offers you a tender smile as his fingers grip onto your hip in encouragement. “Take what you want, then,” he nods.

Your fingers wrap around his cock, slick and hot, and his eyes dart down to watch as you line him up to your entrance. As you slide down onto him, Jim closes his eyes, leaning his head back against his shoulder and moaning softly. He looks so beautiful like that: his jaw clenching just beneath the surface of his taut skin, his hair mussed from your hands running through it, his cheeks glowing red from desire.

You press your chest to his and kiss the middle of his throat. His fingers travel over the swell of your ass, and you begin to move your hips for him. “That’s it,” he hums, opening his eyes. You maintain eye contact as you draw up off of him. It is as if you are the only two people in the world, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, the head of his cock sitting at your entrance. He lets out a sigh in relief when you slide back onto him. One of his hands reaches up and splays out across the small of your back, guiding you as you move. Your breathing becomes more shallow, and the hazy sensation of an orgasm begins to grow in your pelvis as you grind down into him.

Sensing this, Jim’s lips twitch up into a smirk. “So tight for me,” he mutters. His lips brush against your warm chest. “Fuck, and you’re wet. Not gonna last much longer like this.”

You tuck your face into his neck, panting softly as your hips roll into his. You listen to the soft grunts that fall involuntarily from his lips, and think about him cumming inside of you. He’s done it once before, and you liked it more than you should—it’s another sign of his desire for you to devour.

The orgasm hits you in waves and you gasp, gripping helplessly at his shoulder for purchase. Every limb in your body seems to give into the sensation, until you are reduced to nothing but that warm glow spreading rapidly through you. He kisses along your shoulder, your collarbone, tucking an arm around your back to support you as you slump down onto him.

You feel him twitch dangerously inside of you, and know that if you go for a little longer, he’ll cum too. Gathering the last of your strength, you lift your hips, watching between your bodies as his cock plunges inside of you. His fingers brush against your stomach, and the air between you becomes little more than a shared moan.

“I’m gonna cum,” he warns. He gives you the choice of what to do. You rest your head against his, your noses brushing against each other as you pick up the pace. He cums inside of you with a strangled gasp, and you smile when the hot spurts of his want fill you. His fingers press into your sides, his body stiff beneath you.

For a moment you sit like that, his cock buried impossibly deep inside of you, your fingers intertwined in his hair. Sweat mats his fringe to his forehead in places, and he swallows harshly, his breathing labored. You can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed that you don’t want to part from him as you brush his hair away from his eyes, smiling.

He smiles back, content. All the lust that once filled his eyes is replaced with an affection you consider infinitely more dangerous. You lay against his shoulder and close your eyes. His heart thuds against the cage of his chest and his fingers stroke your back softly.

“I’m sorry for what I asked,” you murmur. The shame finds its way to you.

“It’s s’alright.” His lips brush against your shoulder. “I haven’t fucked her in a long time. Not like that. I’m not saying that just to make you feel better.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any better.” You lift your head off of him, meeting his eyes. “None of this does.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“You’re still in me, for Christ’s sake,” you laugh. He laughs too, and you know that’ll probably be the end of the conversation. A part of you is happy to let it go. You’re not ready to end this, even though you know you should. You don’t feel like the other woman, after all. She was meant to be more clever than this, wasn’t she? You feel like you’ve fallen into something you can’t get out of, something you’re terrified to even approach for what it might say about you.

“Hey,” he nudges his nose along your jaw. “You alright, then?”

“Sure,” you nod. “Stay a little while longer?”

“Yeah, of course.” He pats the hair on your head down, laying back on the pillow behind him. You rise up off of him, but still straddle his thighs. He holds you close, wrapping his arms around your torso. You can feel his cum trickle out of you.

“I like you a lot, if that’s any consolation. More than I should,” he tells you. “Enough to frighten me, really. I never thought I’d be this guy, you know? The cheater, especially with a younger woman. I don’t—you were the first I’ve ever felt anything for, you know?”

You lay your head on his chest again, and let out an amused laugh — though nothing feels particularly amusing. “Jim?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to convince me of anything.”

“Right.” He kisses your temple, staying there for a moment before pulling back and saying, “I’m just saying. I don’t want you to look back on this and think I thought of this as meaning nothing. It’s a big thing for me, too.”

You let out of a soft sigh, tracing up his freckled arms with your finger. “Jim?”

“Yes?”

“Will you fuck me again? I don’t want to talk about this anymore. ”

He laughs softly, kissing below your ear. “Of course,” he responds, his hot breath cascading across your sensitive neck. “Only this time, tell me what you want, love. I want to hear you say it.”

[inkedbydesire]

Extortion (18+)

Jimmy Uso x Black Fem Reader

Warning: 18+ Content, detailed storyline with SMUT, MINORS DO NOT ENTER

Summary: Eight months into your relationship with Jonathan Fatu (aka Jimmy Uso), things start to feel strained. When you first met Jonathan, you had no idea who he was, as you weren't into sports, so you had no knowledge of his WWE legacy or the spotlight it would bring. As his girlfriend, you were now facing pressures you never expected, and the constant attention was beginning to take a toll on your mental health. In an effort to reconnect and help you clear your head, Jonathan decides to take you on a five-day trip to Costa Rica, promising a distraction-free escape. At a private villa, you both agree to turn off your phones and focus on nothing but each other. On the morning of your final day, you and Jonathan get carried away on the balcony, unaware that you're being watched…

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: This will be my first shot at writing on here so please bear with me. I apologize in advance for any grammar errors or typos.

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"I just feel like you always mad at me over some shit that I can't fully control"

There it was. You and Jonathan were finally having the conversation you'd both been avoiding since arriving in Costa Rica four days ago. The first few days had been filled with beach relaxation, dining out, and exploring shops—anything to distract from the real reason for this sudden vacation. But now, on the sun-drenched balcony of the private villa you and Jonathan were sharing, it was time to confront the elephant in the room and address the growing distance between you two.

"I just didn't think it would be this hard Jon." You stated to him as you shifted your eyes from the intensity of his stare down to the watermelon you were currently having for breakfast. You picked up your fork and pushed the pieces around for a split second before deciding you weren't hungry.

"You didn't think what would be this hard baby?" Jonathan's voice was soft as he leaned closer, his cold pancakes and bacon long forgotten as he fully focused on nothing but you.

"Being in this relationship." you confessed, finally voicing what you'd been holding in for months. You loved him deeply and understood that all relationships had their challenges, but sometimes it felt like things were harder than they needed to be.

If you'd known then what you knew now, eight months ago, when you met Jonathan at the gym, you might have thought twice about giving him your number. But as the memory crept back into your mind you knew you were lying to yourself. He had you the moment his eyes locked on yours.

8 months ago you decided to fulfill your cliché New Year's resolution of hitting the gym more. You were desperately in need of a fresh start so you picked a new gym that was miles away from your old one. On one particular night, you couldn't fall asleep no matter what you tried, so around 1 am, you drove to that gym to see what it was like. Luckily for you when you arrived there were only about 3 other people in attendance. The normal people obviously sleeping at this hour. You quickly walked over and blended in with the others as you placed your AirPods in and began your routine.

About 20 minutes into your workout, that was when you first noticed him.

You were minding your business until you glanced over and almost choked on the water you were sipping. Damn, you thought, as your eyes involuntarily traveled from his neatly braided hair down to his broad shoulders. He was lifting weights, his back flexing with every rep unbeknownst to him feeding into your weird quirk for backs. If he looked this good from behind you couldn't help but wonder how much better it got from the front.

You soon got the answer to your inquiry as the man abruptly turned around and caught you staring. He indeed did look better from the front something you weren't at all surprised about. Your heart fell to your ass as you wondered if he could feel you watching him. Was that why he turned around so suddenly? You awkwardly held eye contact with him for a few seconds then sheepishly went back to your routine. But still, you just couldn't keep your eyes off of him. You felt like a creep as every so often your eyes would wander over to him only to be caught again and again. But yet ....... you swore that some of those times he was already the first one looking.

On maybe your 5th time of being caught he surprisingly started walking over to you. When he made it to where he was standing right in front of you, you removed your AirPods to give him your undivided attention.

"You don't have to be scared to approach me." He said his voice deep and playful sending a shiver through you.

"I don't bite or nothing." He added with a smile that made your knees almost give out on you. You assumed that he was boldly saying that you shouldn't be afraid to shoot your shot. But then he soon revealed that he was a Pro Wrestler who was signed with the WWE and he thought you were eyeballing him because you were too shy to ask for an autograph. It was a funny misunderstanding and you quickly explained to him that you didn't know him from anywhere which he took absolutely no offense to as you both laughed it off. You still had to come up with a reason for why you were watching him though. You opted to go with honesty and told him it was because you found him attractive. You weren't normally that up front but somehow this perfect stranger was already making you feel comfortable. He took the compliment with another flash of that breathtaking smile of his then introduced himself as Jonathan Fatu. You in return introduced yourself as Y/N and you guys chatted for a spell before he admitted that he found you attractive also. Before you left the gym he asked if he could keep in contact with you and that's where things started.

You soon found out that on top of being violently fine, Jonathan was also funny, kind, humble and extremely attentive. Everything that you could've asked for in a man and definitely a major step up from the last person you were entertaining. Things were perfect in your eyes with Jonathan when your relationship was kept between you two. But then 4 months into dating he wanted you to come to one of his matches. He ended up getting a little too friendly with you in front of the cameras and that's when people started talking. Then the problems came. First, it started with some of Jonathan's overzealous fans taking a special interest in your relationship. They started feeling the need to tag you in everything and bombard you daily with unsolicited opinions. Most of his fans were kind enough, but the trolls were relentless. Some even blamed you for Jonathan not dating one of the female wrestlers they thought he belonged with. Then came the gossip blogs getting too invested in your personal life. All of this unwanted attention was solely based on the fact that you were now Jimmy Uso's girlfriend.

You tried your best to ignore everything. You didn't enjoy being in those crowded arenas but you could tell that Jonathan loved when you came to see him. So you did that for him. You powered through all of the invasive and sometimes hateful comments. You powered through Jonathan's hectic schedule. Out of a 7-day week, you were lucky if you would get 2 full days with him but you had fallen in love so you were willing to deal with it.

But a few weeks close to a month ago your facade started to crack. You found yourself snapping at Jonathan, holding grudges, and letting your frustrations fester instead of speaking up. But you were scared. Scared that your feelings wouldn't be validated, that maybe Jonathan would think you were just looking for a reason to complain.

Of course, like most humans, he had his spare share of flaws but above it all he was genuinely such a loving man. He treated you like you were his whole world.

Like now, for instance. He sensed that something was wrong with you and cleared his whole schedule, something that was nearly impossible to do, so y'all could have this time together. So why couldn't you just suck it up?

"You know what...... never mind Jon. It's not that important," you spoke to him, plastering a fake smile on your face deciding that sucking it up was exactly what you were gonna do. Here you had this beautiful view and this beautiful man. Why ruin it over something so trivial?

"I've just been a little stressed out lately but it's fine," you said and before Jonathan could respond you stood to your feet. You fixed your robe as you slowly walked over to the railing of the balcony. You let your eyes roam over the awe-inducing scenery as you worked on swallowing your feelings ..... again. But it wasn't long before you felt Jonathan's hands on your hips gently pulling you into his arms.

"Nah don't do that Y/N."  He said, his breath warm against your ear. "If it's got you feeling a way towards me then it is important."

You two stood there silently for a beat then he grabbed your hand and led you over to the couch that was placed in the corner of the balcony. He sat down and then silently tapped his lap indicating that he wanted you to join him. Without protest, you straddled his lap, your body instinctively seeking comfort in his presence.

"Get it off your chest." Jonathan urged his dark eyes locking on yours as you placed your hands on his shoulders. You signed, your heart beginning to pound but you knew that you had to speak up if you two were ever going to reach a resolution.

"I love you, Jon. You know that," you said beginning to speak freely without worrying too much about the consequences. "But it's just that at times everything that comes with being with you ....... it all gets to be too much"

"The lights.... the cameras.... the attention. I just wanted you, Jonathan. I never wanted all of this. Before you, my life was so simple. I could say, go, and do whatever I wanted. But now I have all of these eyes on me. " you laid out to him as he focused on you intently. His eyes caught your every move as he silently allowed you to pour out your heart without any interruption.

"I know you can't change who you are Jon and I wouldn't want you to. I love that you get to live out your family's legacy. But this lifestyle..... your lifestyle .... I don't think it's for me." you finalized what you were feeling to him and now all you had to do was wait to see how he was going to react.

"So.... wait a minute..... what does that mean?" Jonathan asked as you watched confusion arise on his beautiful brown features. He adjusted you on his lap as he tightened his grip around your waist.

"You saying you don't want to be with me no more Y/N"

Visual hurt flashed in his eyes as he searched your face for understanding. This was another reason why you'd been afraid to bring it up. You didn't want him to jump to conclusions. But you understood his reaction. Jonathan couldn't change who he was, and what he represented meant the world to him. If you couldn't handle the spotlight that came with being committed to him, maybe the only option was to walk away. But despite that, you also knew that you were in too deep to go anywhere now.

"No, that's not what I'm saying, Jon. I'm just telling you what's been bothering me." you quickly reassured him as you moved your hand up to gently cup the side of his face. You felt his body relax again under your touch.

"I won't lie like the thought hasn't crossed my mind though." You admitted to him. "But I'm in love with you, Jonathan. And that's bigger than anything else I may be feeling."

You sighed then said, "I just get a little overwhelmed sometimes." You ran your fingers through his hair, one of your favorite things about him, before dropping your hand back down to rest on his shoulder.

"You need to tell me when you're feeling like that Y/N so we can figure it out together," Jonathan spoke, his tone soft and comforting. "And when I can I'll take you away from it for a little while."

"I'm use to my lifestyle 'cause I've been in it all of my life but I know everything can't be easy for you 100 percent of the time. But don't bottle that shit up. Just talk to me whenever you feeling like you can't handle it. Alright?" he told you, his eyes reflecting how much he meant every word. You nodded at him in response feeling 10 times better now that you two had finally confronted the issue. Of course, talking about it wouldn't make things cease to exist. Tomorrow Costa Rica would be over and the real world would be waiting. But at least you knew now that whenever things got too tough you could have a moment with Jonathan about it.

"Thank you for understanding Jon. I feel so much better now." you expressed to him. Feeling so overcome with gratitude you tilted your head down and placed a light peck on his lips that he surprisingly didn't return. He sat there in a dead silence that began to make you get all anxious about the situation again.

"I don't" he finally spoke. His face was stern and his dark eyes glared into yours. You searched his facial features for a hint of amusement but found none.

"I don't like you having crazy ass thoughts about not wanting to be with me." He spoke as he moved his hands from around your waist to slowly trail them up your robe all the while keeping his eyes locked on yours. As his big hands gripped your thighs with a possessive firmness, you instantly knew exactly where his mind had shifted. And you were 100 percent with it.

"You gotta make that shit up to me." He said with a smile as he took hold of the string that was holding your robe in place.

"I'll try" you responded playfully as he fully undid the string.

"You gone do more than that." He commented as he pulled the top half of your robe down your shoulders revealing your breast to the open air because all you had on underneath was a pair of panties. Gently grabbing you by the neck with one hand Jonathan pulled your mouth to his. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip before closing in on the kiss. As you two fell into a familiar rhythm you felt his other hand moving up your stomach until it reached one of your breasts. As he slowly started caressing the nipple with his thumb his mouth moved from yours down to your neck. After planting a few kisses along your collarbone he then moved his full attention down to your chest.

"Ummm" a soft moan left your lips as his warm tongue connected with your right nipple as he used his hand to play with and tease the other. You were so wrapped up in pleasure that it barely crossed your mind that you and Jonathan were basically outside right now. You had never engaged in sex in a place that wasn't closed off. Whether it was a bedroom, a bathroom, a car, whatever. Each place had always had a door to close you two off from the rest of the world. So being out on this balcony was a new experience for you. You thought that maybe you should tell Jonathan to move things inside but you didn't want to interrupt the current state he had you in. Besides the villa was private. The workers were on call so you and Jonathan were the only two in the house. There was nothing to stress about. So you allowed your mind and body to be completely immersed in the moment as you felt your wetness and desperate need for Jonathan grow.

"You been playing with me since we got here but I got you," Jonathan told you bringing your mind back to him as he tilted his head back to look at you. You knew that he was referring to the fact that you hadn't done anything sexual with him since the plane landed. In your previous relationship, sex was used to cover up most of the issues you and that person had. Nothing was ever discussed, talked out, or even really resolved. You didn't want to start that habit with Jonathan so you thought it would be better to abstain from doing anything with him on this little vacation until things were figured out. It wasn't easy because Jonathan tried every trick in the book but you stood your ground spamming the hell out of that I'm just not in the mood excuse. Which was definitely a bald-faced lie. You've wanted Jonathan in the worst way since you guys arrived. So bad that you even started dreaming about it. Lucky for you things were okay enough for you to now indulge. So indulge… you would.

"Take these off," Jonathan told you as he reached down and tugged at the brim of your panties. Obeying him you removed yourself from his lap and stood to your feet. You took your robe the rest of the way off letting it hit the balcony floor followed by your underwear. The sun and Jonathan's eyes were glued to your naked body as he took you in. 8 months later he still had that same hunger in his eyes each time you two found yourselves in this position. Looking into your eyes Jonathan then stood to his feet also. His 6'3 frame towered over you as he came out of his boxers and the grey sweatpants he had on. You both were now naked as the day you came into this world out on a balcony in Costa Rica but that was the last thing on your minds. The sexual tension was thick in the air as Jonathan sat back down on the couch while taking hold of your hand. He tried pulling you back down on his lap but you had something else in mind. You reached past him and grabbed one of the pillows off of the couch. You dropped the pillow down on the floor between his legs before dropping down to your knees on top of it. You watched Jonathan run his tongue across his lips at the sight as you took his dick into your hands.

"You look so fucking good." He complimented you as you slowly stroked his dick up and down with your manicured fingers while keeping your eyes on his. Deciding not to tease him any longer you shifted your focus down to what was in your hands. Picking up a little more speed with your stroking you took the tip of his dick into your mouth and started slowly running your tongue around it.

"Shit" you heard Jonathan grunt as you took as much of him as you could into your mouth coating him in your saliva. You suddenly felt him grab hold of the braids you got solely for coming to Costa Rica. He gathered them into a makeshift ponytail as you went to work on his dick. Jonathan moaned and cussed as you completely lost yourself in pleasing him. His moans were always the most intoxicating thing to you so it wasn't long before you felt yourself throbbing with urgent need. Not being able to resist you let go of his dick with one hand to reach down to please yourself while tending him. You gently rub your clit as you took some time to spit on Jonathan's dick before taking him into your mouth again. You shoved him so far into your mouth that his dick was damn near down your throat but at times like this, you didn't care if you suffocated. Jonathan used your hair to guide you up and down to his liking while your fingers slipped over your clit as your wetness became almost unbearable. You knew Jonathan's body well at this point so you knew when he was near his climax. You felt that feeling coming as he gripped your hair tighter and barely could sit still on the couch.

"Fuck Y/N" he grunted softly before shooting his seed into your mouth. You caught as much as you could and collected the rest before swallowing.

"Come here" Jonathan told you while helping you up. Neither one of you were anywhere close to being done with the session yet so within seconds you found yourself sliding down onto his dick. This was what your body was craving the most and yet the feeling was still overpowering as you came all the way down on his full length.

"S-shit" you let out as your body shuddered at the feeling of him having him inside of you. Jonathan's hand was back around your throat again as you begin to bounce up and down on his dick. How wet you were could be heard as Jonathan moved his hips up to meet you halfway every single time.

"Look at me Y/N" you heard his voice say not even realizing that your eyes were closed. You were so focused on trying not to cum too soon as his dick repeatedly connected with your g-spot. You listened to him and opened your eyes to the best of your ability and found his eyes fixated on your face like they always were anytime he had you in this position. He leaned in and pulled you into a kiss as he wrapped his other arm around your waist. Holding you tighter he picked up his pace and began to pound into your wetness from below.

"J-Jon" you moaned his name as you broke the kiss. You were in fear that you were going to bite down and draw blood from his lip something you couldn't do especially with his profession.

"Look at you," Jonathan said as he watched the faces you made as you took every inch of him.

"You not going nowhere .... you love this dick too much" he gloated. In response, your eyes retreated to the back of your head. Jonathan who always spoke such sweet words to you turned into a totally different person when he was fucking you. And you enjoyed every minute of it.

"Tell me you love this dick Y/N" he demanded from you as his grip on your neck got tighter and your need to cum grew stronger.

"I l-love it J-Jon" you muttered followed by many profanities as his pace quickened and you fought to keep up. You could feel your walls clenching around him indicating that you were losing the fight. Your climax was so close that you could feel it darting up your legs.

"I can't hear you. Speak the fuck up." Jonathan commanded.

"I love it" you whined out louder as your climax reached the pit of your stomach.

"FUCK ... I love it." came out louder as you bounced on Jonathan's dick with more determination than ever as your whole body became heated all over.

"Cum for me then." He told you as he released your neck and reached down to massage your clit to aid you in reaching your peak. It only took a minute of feeling Jonathan's fingers on your clit combined with his dick hitting your g spot before you found yourself making a mess on his lap. Your climax hit you full force as your body twitched and shook as Jonathan's dick became drenched in your cum. Not long afterwards he cursed and shot his load into you while repeatedly saying your name. You both were breathless and it took serval minutes to come back down to earth. Once you did you cleaned yourselves up and decided to spend the rest of your last day in Costa Rica out and about.

********************************************

Day 6 came quicker than you wanted but it was time to pack for your flight back to the United States in a few hours.

"Shit, I hope I didn't miss nothing too important," Jonathan said while you sat on the bed folding clothes and putting them back into your suitcase while he turned on his phone which had been off for the last 5 days. You both made a mutual agreement to ignore the rest of the world so your phones were shut off immediately after arriving. You tried to convince Jonathan that ditching his phone wasn't needed because you understood that he was a very busy person but he insisted on focusing on nothing but you on this trip.

Your phone remained shut off on the nightstand because you didn't feel as compelled to get back on it as him. Your mom and best friend could wait. 

"Damn," you commented to Jonathan while lifting your brows at him because when he did power his phone back on it began to bing and buzz in his hand nonstop. 

"Shit, I got like 30 missed calls from Tamina," he told you referring to his manager.

"Go handle it I'll finish packing for you." You told him. You knew that if she called that many times then it had to be something beyond urgent. Jonathan left the room as you continued to collect yours and his belongings. As you moved around the room you wondered what could be so urgent while at the same time hoping it wasn't that big of a deal. It took a little over 30 minutes for Jonathan to return to the room. When he came scrolling back in the look on his face told you that whatever Tamina was calling him about was indeed a big ass deal.

"Baby sit down." He told you.

"What is it Jon?" you asked him as you ignored his request for you to sit down.

"I don't know how to explain or tell you this so here," he said while holding out his phone to you. You were confused and your heartbeat quickened as you took hold of his phone. When you looked down the first thing you saw was what looked like an email with a few attachments.

"One of the workers must've tipped somebody off or something. I don't know how this shit happened. This villa was supposed to be private." Jonathan said to you as you read the email and became mortified. Suddenly you started to feel a little dizzy as you tried to process what you just read. Whoever sent the email was demanding 50 thousand dollars to be sent to them or they were going to sell some inappropriate images of you and Jonathan to the highest bidder. All you could think was who, what, and how? On top of being modified, you became sick to your stomach as you opened the attached files and saw pictures of you and Jonathan out on the balcony yesterday morning. The pictures were slightly blurry and looked like they were taken from a very far distance. But because of Jonathan's hair and his distinct tribal tattoos, it was easy to tell that it was either him or his twin brother Joshua. This was just yesterday morning so you wondered how in the hell could someone get ahold of something like this so quickly. But then you connected that if the person took those pictures yesterday morning then they had the whole rest of the day to send the information around. They did this without you and Jonathan knowing a thing because your phones were off.

Overcome with a feeling that you couldn't put into words your breathing became labored as you could visibly see the room start spinning before you.

"Baby, are you alright?" Jonathan's voice questioned you. It sounded like it came from a great distance, but he was standing right in front of you. The room began to spin faster as you stumbled back. Jonathan moving closer to you was the last thing you remembered before things went completely black.

[coockie8]

so i guess vlads more of a top then

Oh, you'd think that, but not really lol

Plasmius' disdain for bottoming comes from the fact it is a ghost, and by nature is pretty incapable of moving on.

Danny is pretty much the only person Vlad tops consistently. He's had a few boyfriends in the past that he switched with, but Danny's the first where he's primarily the top.

Vlad likes to bottom, despite his past. Choosing to do so feels empowering to him, because it's his choice. So, ultimately, he doesn't really care if Plasmius insists on picking old wounds over it.

With that being said, when guys do try to force themselves on Vlad, all hell tends to break loose, 'cause while the consensual bottoming isn't traumatic for Plasmius, it is frustrating. Trigger that trauma and one seriously pissed off spirit is gonna unload 20 years worth of pent-up frustration on you haha

[brainscrems]

I think this oversimplifies it, to an extent. I think there are a variety of issues, the leading one being that the republicans have become masters of propaganda and the democrats have proved unwilling or unable to counter at the same level. I think a large portion is that people vote on what they feel, rather than the policies they see. People consistently like democrat policies over republican ones in polling, but hate the democrats. The only explanation for this, to my mind, is the propaganda campaigns. These demographics are fed lies, day in, day out, about “the woke left” coming for their rights to freedom of speech and religion. Telling them there are all these things threatening their way of life. I cannot interpret this vote as anything but a rejection of the democrats and harris, instead of a vote for trump. And here’s where the, “being nicer” comes in. People like radfems and other assholes are frequently among the first voices an outsider to the left here’s coming from the left. Let’s say you’re 20-year old growing up in a place where your exposure to the outside world is mediated largely through fox news and people who like fox news. That’s the information you’re taught to believe. You get taught about the, “radical woke left” and shown cartoonish examples of what it is. And, well, there might not be anyone openly a part of the left, for their own safety, where u live and you may not have the means or desire to leave anytime soon. But. There’s the internet. You go on to talk to people on the left, see if they’re really what people say they are. You see some voices saying more reasonable things, but, ofc, this is the internet. The more extreme takes tend to be the ones publicized. So this young person starts trying to explore the left and runs into people like radfems and gets scared out of investigating further. I don’t think this is simply a matter of, “being nicer” to people. I think it’s a matter of countering the image problem that the left has among centrists and moderate republicans. That we are represented by our most extreme and outrageous voices. I think there are multiple components to this that should be done in tandem. The same way the right has all these podcasts and misinformational entertainment platforms, we need the same. Except ours need peddle truth instead of bullshit. Part of this campaign needs to be making leftist ideals represented by the people who make up the bulk of our numbers. Rational reasonable people fighting for a better world, not the smaller number that exist who fit the strawmen the right paint us as. Another part is creating space for those 20 year olds who have never really talked with a leftist before. We need people from those backgrounds doing the outreach to them. We need people to show them that we offer a community built off of working for a better world for everyone instead of the community build off of hate the right offers. It’s not about being nicer. It’s that often the first people these young impressionable people come in contact with are the most extreme voices of our movements, the ones who DO actually hate them for their identity and background. They then assume that they represent all of us. If instead we had strong outreach to those people, promising them community and direction and unity for the work to improve their working conditions, build unions, fight for higher pay, we could get them to start listening. Dems promise these policies but the media they encounter tells them that they’re just lying, lying, lying, or that they’re not proposing them at all. What we need is to show them that we are not something to fear, but a cause worth fighting for. I don’t think it’s “being nicer” that we need, I think it’s information campaigns to make us people to trust, to make our communities less scary to those who’ve never met us, and to make the most extreme of our voices seem as fringe as they actually are.

the thing I don’t get about both the Women need to be Less mean to Men and also Democrats Need to be Nicer to Republicans in the U.S. context is like…. Man if anything, what the 2024 election cycle showed me is that there are many people who don’t want their politicians to be even civil about them. The “let’s just have an all American shindig!!!” Song and dance?That was the democrats. Jd Vance wrote a whole book about how much the white working class from the area he came from were lazy criminal freeloaders he was somehow better than. he won in Appalachia. Trump has now had 8+ years of violent grab em by the pussy misogyny. The majority of white women voted for him. Trump has also had 8+ years of violent I Hate Latinos Bad Hombres messaging, including a graphic comedic description of their sexual habits at a rally right before the election. The majority of Latino men still voted for him. If there’s anything that seems to be suggested is that plenty of people respond well to people being mean to them and distrust civility. I don’t know what to think of it.

[aunmenosheteroenespanol]

2.12 Chimney Begins - 2.09 Hen Begins - 2.16 Bobby Begins Again - 7.04 Buck, Bothered and Bewildered

Tommy's family arc

[avocado62524]

[sittinginsunflowers]

The absolutely real way my heart dropped when Brennan brought out those fucking scantron ass test questions and a timer is proof you never outrun high school and if one of them doesn’t curse him out for this truly cruel (and genius) premise next episode I will be shocked

[galadhir]

Oh this is nice!!! I know that early 2000s LOTR fandom was extremely hard to deal with so more power to you for this one.

Honestly, I found the fandom a great place to be in those days. There weren't a lot of people writing Celeborn or even the Sindar in general, (other than Haldir and Legolas.) But the section of the fandom that I hung out in, I found delightful. Lots of really good writers, and a playful atmosphere in which we were all being inspired by each others' work and writing our own, and chatting about it with each other. I was lucky, maybe, but I have only pleasant memories.

I do remember what I thought was a thriving Elrond/Celebrian fandom in those days (although anything not-Legolas and not-Feanorian was obviously much smaller than those powerhouses.) I think it's great. Celebrian deserves a bit of development. If we want strong female characters in the Tolkien fandom we should maybe write more of them than just Galadriel, and surely Galadriel's daughter must have been special in her own right.

i think it's interesting that even in that one Celeborn is a Teler, and therefore always associated with the folk that got damaged by the Kinslaying

It *is* interesting :) I think Galadriel nails her colours to the mast as regards her support for the Sons of Feanor with that decision. And would have stood to potentially alienate herself from her whole people if not for Thingol embracing the Finarfinions and (cautiously) being okay with the people of Fingolfin. It's hard to go against your whole family for love - which is an interesting aspect of their story I don't see explored enough.

(Admittedly I haven't been in the fandom for 20 years, so it may have been done to death by now, but... somehow I doubt it.)

Also I like the version in which Celeborn is a Sindar, which also makes the marriage a mixed marriage in terms where Galadriel married a dark elf. There's a lot to be said about elvish racism in the way the Amanyar treat the elves of Middle-earth, and how that makes things tricky not only for Galadriel with her relatives but also for Celeborn with his.

I think that's sad that people ignore this and say that Celeborn never understood the real Galadriel (opinion that came from the show for some reason) or that he's just an useless betacuck with no personality because that's the only way a woman would have indipendence in her marriage, amirite? Because else a Real Man™️ would rather tame her, right ?

Ugh. This is still going on? Of course it is. Because we are more sexist than Tolkien, and we can't imagine a m/f marriage without subordination of one of the parties.

For some reason it seems to be impossible for people to understand that you can have a marriage where both people have their say - and are thus functionally equal - where one of them has more power than the other.

And yet that's easy - the one with power just refuses to exert it over the other person. They respect their spouse's autonomy because they are a good person.

Also it's possible their spouse has qualities other than power that make it only sensible to consider their opinion.

because they are your beloved and you want them to be happy

because they may have more knowledge of specific things than you and you trust their judgment

because they may have character traits you don't have and you need - ie caution, or wisdom. (See where Galadriel calls her husband 'Celeborn the Wise'. She obviously thinks he generally has good takes on stuff.)

etc

I can't believe I'm still having to argue for the equality and independence of spouses in this day and age.

The less said about Peter Jackson the better. To be fair, I loved the first film, but it was him having the elves of Lorien come to Helm's Deep that got me into fandom in the first place. I was like 'no. That's not how that happened. Do you think they didn't have stuff to do at home?' And then I wrote Battle of the Golden Wood to try to produce something that was a bit closer to canon.

If I wasn't so old and tired I would be tempted to write the story of the Fall of Eregion and the Forging of the Rings for the same reason. But omg I am so tired.

Objectively the funniest argument i've seen for the reason why Celeborn isn't in the show is that he's so boring that not even the showrunners know what to do with him and that he would be an useless baggage for Galadriel's story…

Well, they should do their job and think of something. I could do it. I could do it in a heartbeat. It's easy. How dare these people think that Galadriel's husband is going to be boring? What a travesty!

For what you say of the lore… you're right but i think that the Unfinished Tales rights are off so they cannot use them.

Oh yes, I keep forgetting about the copyright stuff, and their insane decision to write a story they don't have the rights to use the canon sources for.

They should have done something they *did* have the rights for, instead of just making up something that almost has to be wrong in order to be permitted at all. I'm sure there are an infinite number of stories that could be told around the events of LotR and The Hobbit.

What about that Haradhrim soldier that Sam wondered about, for example? I would genuinely love to see more about Far Harad and learn what lies Sauron told them to make them trek across Mordor on their war elephants to attack a city they'd probably never heard of.

You could add a female MC, a couple of blue wizards and some ex-Numenorian Corsairs and I'm sure you could mix up something fascinating that no one in Tolkien fandom could complain about at all.

(We still would complain, but it would be fun complaining and not whatever cannibalistic thing this is.)

Simon Tolkien should at least suck it up and if he was ok with Amazon's fic, to open the possibility for fans to publish LOTR retellings.

LOL! That would be great. I'm ready :)

Hoo, boy. I am definitely going to unfollow the Celeborn tag again, since it's full of Haladriel shippers arguing that Celeborn stans are harassing them.

I'm not getting into whether that's true. I have no interest in Rings of Power, and as far as I am concerned, Halbrand does not exist in Tolkien's world. I can't be somewhere where people mix Amazon's fanfiction with actual lore.

Also ship wars are not for me. I was a massive Celeborn defender during the release of the movies, and I wrote several novels worth of fanfic then. I think I'm spent.

Still, as a Celeborn fan I thought the Celeborn tag would be a great place to go to find stuff about Celeborn. How could I have been so foolish!

My poor lad! Not even his own tag is about him. Which is exactly what I should have expected, now I come to think about it.

[skrunksthatwunk]

something he can't put into words.

[feline-evil]

Dick or no dick confirmation Pickles was always going to be trans to me anyways; if he's swingin' somethin that's phallo babes, if he's not then his t-dick fat. What's not to get.

[bayofalgecirascranes]

Reviving these old tags of mine from the dead because I think they're quite good:

Kuzon drags Zuko along with him through all his transfers and promotions because he will personally ensure that this kid makes it to his 20s. Also because sometimes the kid does as many as six insubordinate things before breakfast and k of 41 is an expert at Pretending Not To See.

(Zuko thinks it's to ensure that he keeps quiet about the reason they survived the 41st. just so long as he's too useful to kill of course)

He goes up to his newest colonel with papers that essentially say that ''yeah this kid is totally a sergeant under my command definitely cleared to run firebending drills on your new batch of kindling. of course he's starting them on it right now you know how much time these kids have to train."

Before kuzon gets zuko to agree they can have a little heart-to-heart about zuko's anxieties over being in a position of command. Kuzon says "hey. in my first command i got all my troops killed except for you. so you'll probably do better than me. I would advise you to get yourself out and get your men out if you can, but you are aggressively inclined to the exact opposite of that. But as i am rather inclined to the same thing when it comes to YOUR safety, that can only be a point in your favor. If i didn't think you were fit for the position, i wouldn't be asking you to take it" etcetera.

The angst he feels when he thinks zuko dies at gaipan would be EXQUISITE.

Then zuko comes back with a single sentence of "terrorists captured me and tried using the blasting jelly on the dam. it didn't work" and then he refuses to elaborate further.

i will not think about Kuzon of Shijuichi in the Kindling AU i will not think about Kuzon of Shijuichi in the Kindling AU i will not think about Kuzon of Shijuichi in the Kindling AU i will not...

[recurring-polynya]

howl, zabimaru

bonus: here it is in two other colorways

[nobodysdaydreams]

Giving a complicated tragic childhood backstory to your favorite character is all fun and games, until you realize you need to account for how old all the other adult characters would have been at the time and realize that scenes that would work perfectly if one character was twenty three and the other was fourteen stop working when you need other characters who are played by adult actors clearly younger than they are to be in college at the same time so your story beats line up thematically.