#i knew i was gonna make this like. so fast
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back in S1 I really gave the writers the benefit of the doubt, choosing to believe they weren't libs or centrists. that they didn't really think Vander collaborating with cops was good for Zaun, that they knew characters like Jinx aren't fundamentally broken and irredeemable but a result of trauma caused by systemic oppression.
I believed they knew about and understood real life systems of oppression but very cleverly and subtly told their story, trying not to spoon-feed the audience & shove political messages down anyone's throats.
but then season 2 being so rushed and fast-paced really showed me where their priorities lied, what they chose to focus on and it wasn't insightful social commentary or exploration of any character's psyche or whatnot (aside from ep 7 which was peak) - it felt like they were trying to elicit emotional responses out of the audience more than anything. Isha gets introduced and oh I'm sure they'll subvert expectations and keep her alive & give Jinx hope that she can change for the better and isn't a Jinx to the people she lov- oh nvm Isha's dead. oh Vi has a mental breakdown after betraying everything she once stood for, becoming an enforcer and subsequently falling into a depression & self-harming for possibly months, I'm sure they'll explore this inner conflict in more detail after this montage- nvm it's LITERALLY JUST THE ONE MONTAGE? ok this Maddie girl is sleeping with Caitlyn but she doesn't seem to have any logical reason or motivation to betray he- never fucking mind??? I guess there was just no reason?????
whenever I thought they'd subvert expectations, they just kept doing the most. fucking. obvious. thing. it felt like the writers were constantly really insecurely asking me "are you crying yet????🥺🥺🥺 isn't this sad omg🥺🥺😭💔💔 ARE YOU CRYING??? OMG THE ANGST🥺 TRAUMA🥺🥺🥺"
it felt like they were very trying way too hard and trying intentionally to replicate S1's organic feeling of loss, longing for "what could've been", palpable and relatable pain, empathy for fleshed-out and human characters.
and also, whenever something kinda obvious would've made SENSE, they didn't do it. e.g. Vi & Jinx reconciling in the end would've made for such a beautiful finale where the story comes full-circle, but they chose not to do that because framing their relationship as "doomed" is more tragic😔💔 I guess? despite the fact that we see them getting along like they used to and Jinx saying "I'm always with you, sis", they still make her (supposedly) stand between Vi and her happiness so they make Jinx, the suicidal character, fucking FAKE HER DEATH??
hey remember in S1 Act1 that one scene where Vi & Powder look at the skyline and Vi says "one day, this city's gonna respect us" and in that moment it feels hugely impactful and like it's setting up something important for later down the line and then NOTHING EVER COMES OF IT? by the end of S2, the former GOAT Vi is washed and a lapdog to her oppressors and Jinx is branded an irredeemable terrorist and as far as anyone knows, she died as such.
the creators/writers have always said they knew from the beginning how they wanted the story to end but I find it hard to believe this is the exact outcome they wanted. Arcane was always the story of two sisters in conflict, framed by a larger conflict between the Sister Cities. neither of those stories felt like they came to a satisfying resolution or natural conclusion. S2 abandoned the heart of the story in favor of the eponymous "Arcane" storyline and you can really tell that it made this season weaker.
what makes this all particularly upsetting to me is that I expected better of Arcane of all shows. I guess it's on me for having such high expectations but I wish season 2 hadn't been as disappointing as it was.
No actually I need to add on more to this. Arcane very unfortunately suffers the same issue that a lot of "progressive" shows suffer in Western media, where they go like "here are some real, systemic issues that exist and look at the consequences of these issues", and then either (1) forget to continue with the theme, and/or (2) don't do anything about it beyond slap on a half-hearted Band-Aid solution that never addresses it.
Caitlyn gassing civilians; lack of accessibility for Viktor which created barriers for him due to his disability; enforcers as oppressors, going hand in hand with Noxian imperialism; Jayce weaponzing hextech, and him already having killed a child because of it; not a single moment is really spent on any of these in S2. If anything, the enforcers are really flattened at the end of this season with little nuance, the complexity that shone in characters like Marcus and Grayson disappearing. Many Piltovan characters do not get even a single second of introspection as to how their actions actively contribute to the oppression of Zaun.
#arcane s2 was dumb😭#vi arcane#jinx arcane#arcane analysis#arcane season 2#arcane#sorry to the writers but you guys have to read marx#caitvi#timebomb#jayvik#long post#sorry for the rant#honestly dont understand ppl who prefer this season over s1#yeah the animation was INSANE and looked stunning#but that's genuinely the only part that was better than s1 lol be so fr#I love this show as much as the next faggot but let's be honest with ourselves here#s1 was a near 10/10#s2 was painfully mediocre it brings the whole show down imo#rewatch value tanked
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Suppose to be You
•🖤🍑🏹🧟♀️•
Summary: You’re Shane’s girlfriend but when the apocalypse hits you find him changing and find yourself leaning more towards the only person who gives you the time of day, also you’re Rick’s younger sister
Pairing: Shane x f!reader, Daryl Dixon x f!reader
Warning: Shane’s a cheater obvi, harsh words, Merle
•Masterlist•
I first met Shane when my older brother Rick first started bringing him around the house, I never thought much of him but as we got older he started flirting and we only started dating when I turned 22, about a year ago, it’s been fun but then I lost my brother and then the world got taken over by walkers and that leads to now, camped out in a quarry on the outskirts of Atlanta
We took my sister in law, Lori and my nephew with us but after being here for a while Shane’s been treating me differently, like I’m just a burden to him
Sitting around the fire I’m sat across from Shane as he’s right next to Lori, I understand him wanting to console her her husband died, but he was my brother and I’m Shane’s girlfriend I just thought he’d try to console me even just a little
“You alright sweetie?” Dale asks from next to me
“Oh I’m fine thanks for asking though” I smile trying to brush it off but inside I’m hurting deeply like I’m loosing everything
“I think I’m just gonna head to bed early” I say standing up to leave, all Shane did was glance at me before his eyes went back to the fire, Carl got up and gave me a quick hug
“Night auntie y/n” he smiles, he’s always been the sweetest kid
“Night honey” I walk away as the cool of the night started to envelope me, instead of going back to the tent I went down to the quarry shore, I knew how to take care of myself around walkers I just need to be alone
I sat down feeling all the pressure weighing down on my chest, I lost my brother, then the world ends and now my boyfriend treats me like garbage, what else do I have…….whats the point
Finally letting the tears fall I let it all out before I hear branched snapping behind me, I turn nervously wiping the tears away sighing in relief when I realize it’s just Daryl Dixon, thankfully not accompanied by his ass of a brother Merle
“What’re ya doin down here alone” he asks his eyes squinted at me but for some reason he didn’t make me nervous
“Ummm just needed to get away, what’re you doing down here?”
“Just came back from a hunt saw ya down here……wanted ta check on ya”
My heart skipped a beat, something I haven’t felt in a long time now
“Come on let’s get ya ta bed” he huffed motioning back towards the path, it was a silent walk up to the camp but it was a comfortable silence
I got to mine and Shane’s tent when I hear his fast heavy footsteps heading our way
“The hell are you doing alone with Daryl Dixon” he groans gripping my arm and roughly pulling me away from Daryl
“Shane that hurts, he was just keeping me company” I look back at Daryl and I swear if looks could kill Shane would definitely be dead on the ground
“Get lost Dixon, go back to your dick of a brother” Daryl’s eyes landed on mine and I could see them soften before he left, the further the got the more I wanted to run to him instead of being near the person I should be safe with
“The hell were you thinking”
“Like you’d care” I sigh looking down to the ground
“What’re you talking about you’re my girlfriend of course I care”
“I can’t do this right now Shane I just wanna go to bed, I think I’m gonna stay with Carl tonight, Lori can stay with you bet she’ll love that” I brush him off and walk past him to the smaller tent Carl and Lori stayed in, thankfully they were still out so I could just finally have a moment of peace
How could I feel more peace and safety around a redneck man that I barely know, than my boyfriend I’ve known almost my whole life
I quickly drifted off to sleep welcoming the darkness
•
I woke up early the next morning to the subtle chirping of birds, I quietly left the tent trying not to wake up a still sleeping Carl
Looking around there wasn’t anyone up yet so I went at sat at the camp fire that still had some embers burning
“Hey, what’re ya doing up so early” I hear next to me seeing it’s Daryl again, usually he’d have a snippy attitude with the others in the camp but lately he’s been nice to me and I honestly didn’t care why I just needed someone to cheer me up
“Just couldn’t sleep much I guess, I’ve got a lot on my mind” I say poking at the fire
“Here” he grunted handing me a granola bar he must’ve gotten from his stash
“Thanks”
Then he was gone dissapearing through the thick tree line most likely going for a hunt again
Slowly people started to filter out of their tents and start getting ready for the day, I see Shane making his way towards me with his typical scowl that he never use to use towards me, I look away and turn my back to him
“Have you calmed down since last night” I scoff looking up at him as he towered over me trying to scare me asserting his dominance
“Just leave me alone, you only act like I matter when someone else is giving me attention, tell me do you even love me anymore?” He paused for a moment before answering
“Of course you just gotta stop being selfish I’m trying to console a grieving widow”
“Yeah well he was my brother Shane, did you forget that, just get away from me” I brush past him going towards the trees for some peace and quiet but when I’m deeper in the woods I feel him behind me squeezing my shoulder and he pushes me against a tree
“Shane what are you doing let me go”
“You better watch your mouth don’t forget who saved you when all this started” now he’s trying to guilt trip me
“I could’ve made it on my own, I probably would’ve been happier alone” he raised his hand before a bow zipped between us landing on the tree next to us
“You touch her like that again don’t think I would beat your ass down” Daryl growled coming closer taking my hand and putting me behind him as he stared down Shane
“You think you could take me Dixon, you may be a filthy redneck but don’t think I won’t take YOU”
“Shane just go away, why don’t you go check on poor Lori” I say holding onto Daryl’s arm tighter out of fear, a fear I’ve never felt around Shane before
He huffed before tromping off back towards the camp, when he was far enough away I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I let all the emotions flood me
“God Daryl I’m so sorry to get you mixed in this, I don’t…..I don’t know why he’s like this, he never us to treat me like this and I’m…..I’m scared to be around him now” he takes both my shoulders in his hands and makes me face him gently
“It ain’t yer fault peach, I’ve been around my share of angry men and he’s a ticking time bomb, ya can’t be stay around him”
“If you can’t tell I don’t have no where else to go” my chest felt like it had a thousand bricks on it
“Ya can stay next ta me, we got an extra tent”
“Are you sure, what about Merle won’t he be mad”
“I can deal with that grump, come on let’s get ya settled” I’ve never heard Daryl speak so much but I can’t complain he’s like my saviour right now
•
We got the little tent sat up next to him that was a bit further away from the others but I didn’t care much, the further I am from Shane the better
“Thanks for all this Daryl” I say as we both finally settle down around the fire he sat up since night was falling
“Look at this, my lil bro got himself some tail” Daryl was cut of before he could speak by Merle’s grating voice as he plopped down across from us at the fire
“Merle give it up”
“She staying here now, good ta know we got some action right next door” he grins that sends unsettling chills down my spine
“I’m not doing that Merle for the thousandth time, I just needed some space”
“Finally figured out yer cop boyfriend is cheatin on ya?” My heart stopped, suddenly everything made sense, why he always stayed with Lori, why they’d both dissapear at the same time, why Lori could barely look me in the eyes
“Oh my god I feel so stupid how did I not notice I must look so pathetic to everyone” I groan as I drop my head in my hands
“He dont deserve ya, he’s the pathetic one” Daryl said softly as I heard Merle’s steps retreating into his tent, Daryl must’ve shooed him off
“You know why my brother first got shot I was a mess, couldn’t leave his side I was always so filled with anxiety I was basically wasting away but one day Shane convinced me to take a day to myself so I did, I went home and cleaned up and everything, the next thing I know Shane is busting in dragging me to the truck telling me everyone is dropping like flies and my brothers dead, then suddenly he treats me like a piece of trash, only Lori mattered, and…..he almost hit me today, that’s not the man I knew something’s wrong with him, sure he’s always been a bit hot tempered but this is different and all I can think about is……what is he comes after me again but no one’s there to help me” I sigh finally letting everything off my chest
“Ya ain’t goin no where alone anymore, I’ll protect ya” he said gently placing a hand on my back for a moment before it was gone again
“I can’t ask that of you, I’m not your problem”
“Believe it or not, yer the only person in this camp that doesn’t drive me up the wall, I’d like ta keep ya around a lil longer” he smiled as his words cheered me up a bit, I’ve never seen him genuinely smile and it’s making me feel all light headed
“Let’s head to bed……it’s been a long day” I stand up heading to my little tent as he did his next to mine
“Night D”
“Night Peach” his gaze stayed on me for a moment longer before he entered his tent, only making me think what life would be like if I had met Daryl first maybe I’d me happier
•
Part.2<-
#twd fanfiction#twd daryl#twd x reader#daryl dixion imagine#daryl dixon#twd fluff#daryl dixon x reader#twd negan#twd rick#daryl dixon twd#shane walsh#daryl x reader#daryl imagines#daryl fanfiction#shane walsh x reader#Rick grimes x sister#daryl dixion smut#daryl dixon smut#the walking dead daryl#twd
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Fury
Summary: When Bucky's jealous of Steve, there's only one way to calm the storm— and it involves taking you hard and fast.
Pairings : Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Note : rough sex, blowjob, jealousy
The tension was suffocating the second you walked back into the room. Bucky was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw clenched so tight you could almost hear the grinding. He didn’t even need to say anything. His eyes—stormy, dark, and fixed on you—were enough to tell you what kind of mood he was in.
You didn’t do anything wrong, at least not intentionally. Steve had been the one who came over, his usual friendly self, maybe standing a little too close, maybe cracking one too many jokes. But it wasn’t like you were encouraging him. Hell, you barely even noticed until you saw the way Bucky’s eyes tracked every single move Steve made around you, like a predator sizing up his prey. The moment Steve walked out of the room, Bucky’s whole demeanor shifted—dangerous, possessive.
And now, here you were, the air thick with the kind of jealousy that could either end in a fight or something way more explosive.
He finally spoke, his voice low and rough. “You looked real comfortable with Steve, huh?”
You froze. Bucky wasn’t one for idle jealousy—when he got possessive, it was something primal, something that burned hot and fast, a storm you either weathered or drowned in. And right now, you were treading water.
“It wasn’t like that,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. But you knew that wouldn’t fly. Not with him.
“Wasn’t it?” He pushed off the wall, taking slow, deliberate steps towards you, each one sending a wave of heat through your body. “Looked like he couldn’t keep his fuckin’ eyes off you. And you? You just let it happen.”
You opened your mouth to protest, but the look he gave you shut it right down. His hand was on you in an instant, his metal fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.
“You think you can let Steve get that close to you and I wouldn’t do something about it?” His breath was hot against your skin, his voice thick with that dangerous edge. “You’re mine.”
You shivered at the possessiveness in his tone, feeling that familiar pull low in your belly, the one that always came when Bucky got like this—jealous, furious, and desperate to remind you just who you belonged to.
“Bucky—” you tried, but his grip tightened just enough to stop you.
“Shut up.” His words were sharp, demanding, and your knees felt weak. He spun you around so fast you barely had time to catch your breath before you were pressed against the nearest wall, his body pinning you there, hard and unrelenting. “I’m gonna fuckin’ show you what happens when you let another man get close.”
His hand slid down your back, over the curve of your ass, gripping it roughly before he yanked your jeans down in one swift move. You gasped, your palms flat against the cold wall as he kicked your legs apart with his foot. His hand came down on your bare skin, a sharp slap that sent a shockwave of pleasure and pain shooting through you.
“Fuckin’ Steve...” he muttered darkly, another slap making you bite back a moan. “Think he can look at you like that?” His breath was hot on your neck. “Hear that, baby? You’re gonna scream for me, so loud, I want him to hear you.”
Before you could process the thought, he was pushing your face down against the wall, his fingers finding your heat, rough and fast, teasing you until you were a mess of whimpers and gasps. “Already so wet, huh?” he growled, pressing himself against you from behind, letting you feel just how hard he was.
You pushed back against him, needing more, needing him to just take what he wanted already, but he wasn’t giving in that easy. He always liked to make you wait, drag it out, make you beg for it. And you were close—so close to begging. But he didn’t give you the chance.
“Fuck this,” he growled, and then he was inside you, hard and fast, filling you completely in one brutal thrust. You cried out, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto, but there was nothing but the cold, unyielding wall in front of you.
“Bucky!” His name tore from your throat, a mix of pleasure and pain as he fucked you, each thrust harder than the last. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you back against him with every rough movement, your body jerking forward from the force of it.
“Yeah, that’s right, baby. Let Steve hear you. Let him know who fucks you like this.” His voice was dark, gravelly, and full of possessive fury.
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls. Bucky didn’t let up, didn’t slow down—he was relentless, driving into you with a raw, animalistic need. And fuck, you loved it. Loved the way he lost control when he got jealous, the way his hands gripped you so hard you were sure they’d leave bruises. Loved the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered.
You were close, so close, and Bucky knew it. He could always tell.
“You gonna come for me, baby?” His hand slipped down between your legs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles. “Gonna scream for me?”
You were already screaming, your body trembling, barely holding on as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. And when you finally fell, it was like a fucking explosion, your whole body shattering as you came hard around him, your cries echoing in the small space.
But Bucky wasn’t done.
He pulled out suddenly, flipping you over onto your back, and before you could catch your breath, he was pushing you down to your knees.
“Open your mouth,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. You did as you were told, your lips parting just in time as he pushed himself past them, rough and demanding. You gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, but he didn’t care. He was too far gone, too consumed by jealousy and lust.
He fucked your mouth with the same intensity he’d fucked you before, his hand gripping the back of your head, guiding your movements as you sucked him. You could feel him twitching, hear his breath coming out in harsh pants as he neared his release.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his hips jerking forward as he came, spilling himself down your throat. He held you there for a moment, making sure you swallowed every drop before finally letting go.
You collapsed against him, your legs weak, your body trembling, and Bucky pulled you up, his arms wrapping around you possessively.
“You’re mine,” he growled into your ear, his breath still ragged. “Don’t you ever forget that.”
#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes ceo non con#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes noncon#bucky barnes smut#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky fanfic#bucky series#bucky x female reader#bucky x reader#bucky x you#dark bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes x reader#dark bucky x reader#buck x bucky#winter soldier#james buchanan barnes#the winter soldier#sam wilson#captain america#the winter solider x reader#the winter solider fanfiction#the winter solider imagine#sebastian stan#thunderbolts#thunderbolts trailer#marvel mcu
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How would dirtbag!danny react to you sending him some risqué photos 😏
— that is a dangerous game, nonnie 👀 I’m imagining him miles away, where he can’t come over right away so he’ll have to make do with the photos you sent him, after degrading you on a call that is. 18+ content below
Your phone buzzed almost immediately after you sent the picture—a few sultry shots of you sprawled on your bed, wearing the tiniest scrap of lingerie you owned. The text was simple, just a playful “Thinking of you ;)”, but you knew exactly what you were doing.
Daniel’s reply came in fast.
Holy shit, sweetheart
Another buzz.
You really wanna do this to me right now?
And then your phone rang. You barely had time to speak before his voice came through the line, low and rough. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”
You smirked, twisting a strand of hair around your finger. “Am I?”
“Oh, you have no idea,” he said, a hint of a laugh in his voice. “Sitting there looking like that, knowing damn well I can’t touch you. You’re cruel, you know that?”
The sound of him shifting—the rustle of fabric—caught your attention, and your breath hitched.
“Bet you’re feeling real proud of yourself, huh?” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “Sending me photos like that and leaving me sitting here hard as a fucking rock. You’re lucky I’m not there, or I’d have you on your knees, choking on my cock until you’re begging for mercy.”
Your smirk deepened as his words poured through the line, every filthy syllable winding you tighter. You shifted on the bed, your thighs clenching instinctively, and you couldn’t help but tease him back.
“Oh, is that right?” you murmured, dragging your fingers along the edge of your lace panties. “All worked up just from a picture? Thought you could handle me better than this, Danny.”
He let out a low, mocking laugh, the sound rough and filled with promise. “Sweetheart, if I was there, you wouldn’t even have time to be a smartass. I’d already have my hand wrapped around that pretty little throat of yours, reminding you exactly who’s in charge.”
You let out a shaky breath, his words igniting something deep inside you. “Big talk for someone miles away. What are you gonna do about it?”
“Oh, you think distance is gonna stop me?” His voice dropped even lower, laced with that dangerous edge that always made your knees weak. “Sweetheart, I don’t need to be there to control you. You’re mine, remember? And you’re gonna do exactly what I say, no questions asked.”
Your breath caught, a mix of anticipation and defiance bubbling in your chest. “And if I don’t?”
“Oh, you will,” he shot back smoothly. “Because you know what happens when you don’t listen. And after these little photos, you’re already in trouble.”
The casual threat sent a shiver down your spine. “Trouble?” you repeated, feigning innocence.
“You think I wouldn’t notice the time? Sending me that when you know damn well I’m busy?” he asked. “That’s gonna cost you. Next time I see you, I’m gonna put you over my knee and spank you until that ass is covered with my fucking handprints. Then, maybe you’ll think twice before teasing me like this.”
You swallowed hard, the image vivid in your mind, and let out a shaky, “Danny…”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said smugly. “Now, here’s what you’re gonna do. Slide those panties off—slowly. I want you completely bare for me. Then, I want you to touch yourself, but don’t you dare cum. You’re gonna edge yourself for me, sweetheart, keep yourself nice and ready for when I get there.”
You hesitated for a second, the teasing smile on your face faltering. “And if I don’t?”
His laugh was dark, almost amused. “If you don’t? I’ll make you regret it. I’ll tie you up and make you watch me get myself off instead of giving you what you’re begging for.”
The thought sent a rush of heat through you, and you found yourself complying, your fingers sliding under the waistband of your panties. “Happy now?” you murmured, your voice breathless.
“Not yet,” he said, his tone sharp. “I want proof. Send me a video—of those pretty little fingers working. Let me hear you whine for me, say my name like you mean it. But don’t even think about cumming. That’s for me to decide, not you.”
You bit your lip, already feeling the ache building as your fingers brushed over your slick heat. “You’re impossible,” you muttered.
“And you love it,” he shot back. “Now be a good girl and show me exactly how much.”
He ended the call and with a shaky breath, you propped your phone up and hit record, knowing full well that this little game was far from over—and the consequences would be everything he promised and more.
want more dirtbag!danny? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days
#dirtbag!danny#di’s dirty drabbles#daniel ricciardo blurb#daniel ricciardo oneshot#daniel ricciardo fic#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo fanfic#daniel ricciardo smut#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo drabble#daniel ricciardo au#daniel ricciardo x you#f1 smut#f1 fanfiction#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 drabble#f1 blurb#f1 au#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 rpf
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thinkin bout lightly angsty sex post-kidnapping. some nefarious organization heard that there was some sweet number one of the boys had gotten attached too (you), and they wasted no time going scorched earth to get you back.
So. I’m gonna make this crazy ass. Fair warning. By the way, what do you guys think of as the sweetest number? I think it might be 3 or 4. Idk why.
cw: violence, trauma, Ghost not being a qualified therapist, dubcon
Anyways, imagine Ghost getting you back in his arms. While you’d always known he was in the armed forces, you never really knew any of the details. Now you’ve seen a little too much of that world. He burned the world to get you back, but it didn’t burn fast enough for you to escape unharmed.
You’re told it’s been six months. Six months you were kept in darkness most hours of the day, six months spent ducking in and out of cement rooms with ceilings barely tall enough to let you stand up straight.
Six months of being made to kill other prisoners if you wanted to live. Being attacked by others who’d been kept in darkness longer than you. Weaker, but angrier.
Ghost used to feel guilt over it— always needing you for comfort from the things he’d seen, while it seemed you never needed him for the same.
But now you need him more than you’ve ever needed anyone. He knows you, and he knows what it’s like to have blood on your hands that never washes away. He knows how the stench of rot can fill your nose all the way up to your brain, and how it can feel like the sun has the power to melt your eyes from your skull.
Half the time you cling to him so hard you break skin, the other half you claw and kick because you can’t bear to be touched.
He doesn’t have time to feel guilty over getting you into this. You need him.
Maybe it’s not the right thing to do, but it’s the only way he knows how to get you to settle. To relax. To go limp like a kitten caught by the scruff.
He holds you down and makes you cum until you can barely lift your head. He just wants you to feel good, to let him worry about all this shit going on, just unclench your teeth and give up. You don’t need to keep fighting, not when he’s here to do it for you.
You’ve spent years taking his mind away from all he’s seen and done. He’s intent on returning the favor.
#writing#cod fanfic#cod#simon ghost riley#cw dubcon#cw trauma#cw violence#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader
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YES WE WANT THE LONG ONE
bad game?
warnings: angst (tiny bit), smut, overstimulation, USC GAME MENTION
an: very sorry for bringing up this traumatic event🙏please forgive me. i've never wrote smut before so like that too. also i was gonna make it longer but y'all were BEGGING so here!
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azzi is sitting in her bed cuddled up with her brand new book like the princess she is. the door of the apartment dorm slams
shut as an angry blonde walks through. paige had insisted on going for a drive after their loss to usc.
"paige!" azzi calls out from her bed as paige walks in sitting in azzis desk chair with a huff.
"fucking bullshit. shoulda won. played like shit the first half. the fuck is wrong with us, with me this year az." paige goes on and on her anger becoming more and more noticeable with each word. azzi puts her book down and stares her in the eye.
"paige you gotta stop. you're too hard on yourself." paige just groans and rolls her eyes at her girlfriends words.
"i don't need you to fucking take care of me." she grits through her teeth causing azzi to be taken aback by her sudden wrath.
"baby." she whispers softly causing paige's gaze to soften. "c'mere imma cheer you up mama." this causes the blonde to grin as she practically falls on azzis body peppering kisses all over her face and neck.
"m'sorry ma, i love when you take care of me." she whispers making azzi smile and let paige take control. it was usually azzi in control but in times like these, paige needed to go full pussy eater mode.
"s'okay." azzi whispers, and now that paige knows she's not mad, she's full
menace.
"good." a sly grin spreads across her face as her knee digs into azzis clothed core. she sucks in a shaky breath before pulling paige's shirt latching their lips together. the kiss was harsh but still sweet. teeth clashing and tongues fighting but still a soft edge because paige always had a soft spot for her precious princess. she moved her thigh against azzi before she hears a soft moan escape the younger girls lips causing her back to arch off the bed.
"i gotchu princess." paige smirks as she pulls azzis shorts down with her panties.
"fuck p." azzi whispers as paige's head dips down to her bellybutton piercing sucking the skin around it leaving small bite marks.
"so fuckin sexy." she mumbles before she drags her fingers against her folds. already soaking for her. her lips attack azzis neck as she's turned into a moaning mess as paige's two fingers slip into her curling right into the spot she loves. her thumb rubbing her clit in just the right way. paige wasn't planning on dragging this one out. she had other ideas.
"p-paige y- too fast- i- i cant hold it." azzi hiccups past her moans as she's already squeezing her legs around paige's hand which has a big cocky grin spreading across paige's face.
"so soon mama? you sure you can't wait." she gives her a small pout as she fucks into giving her no mercy. azzis body shakes as she desperately tries to wait for paige to let her come apart.
"s'okay baby i've gotchu. come on let go for me." paige doesn't even finish her sentence before azzis clenching around her and gushing on her fingers but of course paige isnt done yet. she laps at her glistening skin and presses her mouth to her sensitive swollen clit.
"p- cant." azzi mumbles. but she knows it's no use. when paige even thinks about eating pussy you cant get the thought outta her head.
"nah, gotta gimmie this one i know you can." she whispers into her causing azzi to shake. her tongue dips into her as azzi practically screams a tear dropping from her face and her hand in her mouth trying to stop her from screaming. paige pushes down on her lower stomach which makes azzis band snap without her even knowing and soon enough paige's mouth is dripping.
"shit baby. knew you still had it in you." paige hadn't seen her do that in quite some time. she climbs up azzis fucked out frame and kisses her temple.
"one more for me?" she asks her breath hot against azzis sweaty skin.
"you've gotta be kidding me." azzi groans still panting from the last two.
"c'mon that was so sexy az. just one more
please. know you can. please mama." paige's soft pleas do nothing but make azzi give in.
"be-" before she can finish her sentence paige's mouth is on her again. this time softer less urgent.
"imma be gentle baby. don't worry." she whispers as she slides two fingers into her still dripping folds.
"i gotchu. just wanna get you right." she whispers against her clip which makes azzi let out borderline phonographic sounds.
"be quiet for me m'kay." paige whispers. at this point she's completely soaked through her boxers but she doesn't even care tonight's about her princess. azzi tried to keep quiet but the small whimpers aren't helping. she's about to let out a loud scream when paige's fingers push deeper but she quickly latches her mouth onto azzis swallowing the loud sounds.
"paige-" azzi starts but paige knows. she always knows.
"you got it ma. come on let go." and with that paige leans down so azzi an let go, on her face once again. this time paige is grabbing azzis shorts and slipping them back on her limp body.
"clean your face you goof." azzi mumbles as paige leans down to kiss her still covered with azzis juices. but of course she can't resist her beautiful girlfriend and pecks her lips but paige's tongue dives into azzis mouth letting her taste herself. which slips a moan out of her. paige pushes off her bed and goes to clean up and when she comes back she sits at the edge of the bed turning on the xbox azzi had in her room just for paige and loaded up fortnite.
"paige you've gotta be fucking joking." azzis mouth drops as paige scrambles back to the headboard controller in hand.
"what's wrong mama. c'mere." she opens her arms and azzi curls into her chest. "cant just fuckin give your girlfriend mind blowing head then turn on the xbox." she groans but secretly loves just being able to cuddle into paige's chest as she plays her game.
"you love it." she grins. she wasn't wrong. azzi did love it. but most of all azzi loved paige.
#azzi fudd#paige bueckers#pazzi#uconn wbb#wbb#paige buckets#ineedpaigebuckets#paige x azzi#pazzi fics
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luke first star of the game, you know what that means ?
sub!luke blurb 😈
it was cute, really. the shy grin on his face and the way the tip of his ears turned red after praising him drove you insane.
it started innocently with a peck on the lips that carried away into completely smothering his face with kisses. hands roaming his body to ease the tension on his muscles after such a good game.
but the way luke whimpered when you ran your fingers through his curls almost made you drop to your knees in the entryway, and you knew you had to show him how proud you were of him in a different way.
he wasn’t expecting it, he was content with laying on your chest and cuddling with you, but he didn’t fight at all when you led him to his room and told him to prop up against the headboard of his bed.
luke’s thoughts were completely clouded by your slow kisses against his mouth, tongues slow and passionate. his hands firmly gripping your thighs when yours ghosted over his lower stomach, teasing him by snapping the elastic band of his boxers.
“mh, you sound so sweet baby.” you whispered against his lips as a whine left his mouth, his cock hardening against your core through his pants.
so you pulled his shirt off before trailing down painfully slow and leaving kisses all over his body, nipping at his abs to mark your territory. and when you reached his sweatpants, you had to tease him through the fabric because the way he threw his head back against the headboard with a shy moan made you even more eager to pleasure him.
you wasted no time pulling his sweatpants and boxers down to his knees and kissing up his length, hand wrapping tightly at its base. you licked the bead of pre cum falling from his tip while your hand moved up and down his length to draw more.
and the please he cried made you moan around his tip, vibrations stimulating him in all the right places while you took him whole in your mouth. your lips were warm and your tongue lapped at the vein running on the underside of his cock.
when your tongue started leaving kitten licks on his slit, luke couldn’t hold back from whining too loudly.
“i love your pretty sounds but be a good boy and be quiet for me, you don’t want jack to see you like this, no?” with eyes closed he nodded his head quickly, urging you to keep going.
“i want you to look at me while i make you feel good.” you spoke softly, cock jumping at the cold air hitting his tip.
luke knew he had to oblige otherwise you wouldn’t let him come, but the sight of you smiling at him with your plump red lips was making it hard to hold back from cumming.
his hips bucked as you took him in your mouth again at a fast pace this time, tip touching the back of your throat and pleasure washing over him. one of his hands came to grip at your hair, trying to slow you down because he didn’t want to come too fast but you pushed his hand away.
“please, slow down i’m gonna—“ he didn’t even finish the sentence as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked on his tip, and when his cock twitched inside your mouth it wasn’t long before he started spilling down your throat.
with his back arching away from the headboard, luke tried his best to stay quiet but the way you were sucking him dry and tongue licking every drop of his release got him whimpering loudly against his will.
your wetness pooled in your panties ever more as you looked up at him, curls sticking to his forehead, chest heaving and lips red from biting them. he looked so cute all spent like this. it almost made you come back to his half hard cock.
“so good to me, lukey. such a good boy for me” you said while you propped yourself to his height again, eager to leave kisses on his neck and maybe suck on the skin to let everybody know how good he is to you.
one of your hands cupped his cheek to turn his head in your direction so you could kiss his untended lips, earning an ever so sweet whine from him as he tasted himself on your tongue. when you pulled away, his lopsided smile made your stomach flutter and your hand moved on its own accord back to his dick.
“think you can give me one more?”
#not my proudest work but we move on#i will provide with more because sub!luke is my favorite#maybe with a longer fic who knows 👀#luke hughes blurb#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes fic#luke hughes one shot#luke hughes x you#luke hughes#nhl x reader#nhl fic#nhl one shot#nhl x you#bewaryofpity writes
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Cheating Cockslut
Warnings: Cheating, Undisclosed Age Gap, Humiliation, Drinking, blow job, hair pulling
Your breath hitched when you heard Punk's pained groan when he looked at his busted lip. "Really man?" He looked at you "You busted cut my eyebrow so don't even." His eyes widened "I did?" you smiled at him before turning back to your locker. still you could feel his eyes on you, practically undressing you with his eyes. you heard a little sigh once you got your shirt on. when you looked back he was still in his short shorts. now it was your turn to stare as he bent over to look through his bag. you wonder what he's trying to find "hey man, have you seen my sweats?" "why would I have seen that?" You asked, slightly annoyed. his eyebrows furrowed slightly "damn." you heard him whisper as he went back to his searching his bag. "sorry." you sighed and walked out of the locker room. his sweats were on the table next to the 'hydration station'. you sighed again and walked to back to the locker room, his sweats in hand. "found this." you threw it at him "where'd you find it?" "next to the waters, on a random table." "weird.". you turned your back and left again.
later, he showed up next to you to watch the next matches. "hey!" you heard someone yell your name. when you looked over it was Randy Orton. "hey, man. what's up?" "me and a few other wrestlers are going to have an after party, a bit of a celebration for finally getting through Bad Blood. you two coming?". You chuckled a bit while nodding "What about you Punk?" "yeah, i'll be there." Orton smiled and walked away. "You know everyone's gonna get drunk." "I know." you hummed in acknowledgment. "I'll see you there I guess." you walked away.
You sat on the arm of the couch while sipping a beer. Before you knew it you had to piss. You walked up the stairs and into one of the master bedrooms, surprisingly none of them were being used. You walked into the bathroom in there and pissed. When you came out you saw Punk standing out there. "Hey, man." "Hey." He sounded nervous "The other bathrooms were taken?" his mouth opened like he wanted to say something but closed it. Next thing you know his lips are on yours. He moved so fast it felt like you blinked and he was kissing you. You weren't drunk but just tipsy enough to kiss back. Your eyes closed, your hands found his waist and you pulled him closer.
"Fuck." He whispered while pulling away. While your hands found his waist his were on your neck. "Kid, I need you to fuck me?" he said it so casually you felt like you were in a dream. "I-" you stuttered "Aren't you married?" "That doesn't matter." "Aren't I too young?" "Fuck-" He put his head on your shoulder as he began to grind his hips into yours. "You're into it. The age gap, the fact that your a cheating cockslut." He whimpered loudly, digging his face farther into your neck. "God, please fuck me." He begged as his grinding got faster and more desperate. "Strip and get on the bed, i'll lock the door." Punk smiled ecstatically and stripped in a flash. You walked over and locked the door. "You're desperate, this is hilarious." He whined, looking up at you. "Please, please." "Aw, come here baby." He went to stand up "Ah- on your knees." He stopped and immediately dropped to his knees. His eyes were already lidded with lust as he looked up at you. Your hand found his chin.
"Poor baby, why don't you show me how much you want my cock." He looked confused "Hey, baby. You okay?" He nodded. you wondered why he was so silent. "What's going on? Talk to me babes?" "I've never sucked someone off before." Your eyes widened slightly "Do you want to?" "Yes." He breathed out "Stick your tongue out, I'll do the work." He opened his mouth "Tap my thigh or waist if its too much." He nodded. "Good boy." You unzipped you pants and pulled your pants and boxers to your thighs. You placed your cock on his tongue. Punk closed his eyes, making sure to breath through his as your cock hit his throat. "God, you're a beautiful slut." The whine around your cock made you groan, your head lulling back. You started grinding your hips slightly, his teeth slightly grazing your cock "Fuck, careful with your teeth baby." He hummed in acknowledgment, opening his mouth a bit wider. Your hand threaded through his hair "I don't think you understand how much I've been wanting to yank your beautiful silver hair." He moaned loudly, his eyes opening again to look you in the eyes "God you're so fucking handsome." He moaned again "You really like praise, don't you baby." god, you felt like you sucked at dirty talk but Punk is loving it. He tried nodding but couldn't. You started thrusting a little harder then before. Punk's gags and muffled moans along with your pleasured groans filled the room. "God what would your wife think? Imagine she saw you desperately sucking my cock. Fuck, a filthy, cheating, cumslut." His moans somehow became more desperate as he was filled with shame. Punk tried to shake his head with tears welling up in his eyes. "Aw, pretty baby. Don't cry, I'm sure she'd love the sight of her loving husband choking down a cock." The cry ripped out of his throat was enough to make you come. "Fuck, baby. Coming-" You tried to pull your hips back but Punk was holding on to your hips, forcing you to come down his throat.
Once you were done, he let go of your hips allowing you to pull out. "Fuck, Punk. You okay?" Your hand found its way to his jaw again. He nodded "Yes, now will you please fuck me." You smiled "On the bed. Hands and knees." He smiled and basically ran to the bed. You laughed quietly "That's it baby." You smiled down at him while running a hand down his spine. You checked the drawer near the bed "Nice." they had flavored lube. The hand that was on his back grabbed his ass, spreading it to see his hole. "Fuck." You breathed out, absolutely floored at the sight before you. He was lubed, prepped, and had a small black buttplug. "You planned this. How long have you wanted me to fuck you?" He groaned, his chest welling up with shame and anxiety. "The moment I came back to the business, the first time I saw you in the locker room, and when I saw you pin Cody. I wanted to be him, I wanted you to fold me and fuck me." You were shocked at the outpour of words. "Fuck." You groaned again, grabbing the buttplug and thrusting it into him. He moaned quietly, his thighs were already shaking.
Slowly, you pulled the buttplug out and replaced it with your cock. "You okay?" He nodded quickly, "Yes, yes, I'm fucking great. Fuck!" "Might want to stay quiet, what if your wife comes looking for you? I bet she's heard your moans before. Will she be able to recognize them?" Punk moaned like normal but you could see him shaking his head slightly. "What? You two don't fuck?" "No, no, not like this." he looked back at you, there were tears running down his cheeks. "Not like this? How then?" You ran your hand up and down his back, the other hand gripping his hips roughly. "She-fuck- she usually just fuck! she lies there, on her back." you hummed, the hand on his back goes to his hair. You pulled his hair slightly, pulling him up so his back is flushed with your chest. "So you, the cock hungry slut, fucks her. How's that?" "I hate it-fuck-I hate it. It's boring, nothing like your thick cock!" You started thrusting into him deeper "Fuck!". You smirked to yourself "God, I hope she comes up here. I hope she sees how much better I can fuck you." He moaned out loudly. "I wonder, can you come untouched?" He shook his head quickly "No, no, please touch my cock. Please!" He cried out. You smiled down at him, it's his first time so you decided that you'll be nice. The hand in his hair went down his body, wrapping around his cock. The steady stream of pre working as lube. He came almost immediately, a loud cry ripping from his throat. His back arched sinfully and his hips stuttered to get away from yours. You thrusted a few more times to let him ride out his high before coming to a stop. You pulled out and maneuvered him to lay down on the bed next to you.
You two just laid together "You okay?" He nodded "Better than okay.". You opened your mouth to say something, guilt welling up in your chest. One of your hands went to his cheeks to wipe a tear falling down his face. "I'm gonna go.". Punk sat up quickly "What?" "I'm gonna go, this was wrong.". You were still fully clothed, so all it took was you zipping up your pants. "Hey! Wait! What if-what if I left my wife?" He got up to chase after you "For a fuck?". Punk to a step back "This was just a fuck?". "Dude, we're at a party and I'm kind of drunk. I mean I like you but I'm not going to be the reason you leave your wife. I don't want that controversy.". You turned your back and left the party.
The next day, Punk was limping around the locker room with no wedding ring. And there was a million texts on your phone. "Shit."
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Christmas Lights, Christmas Night
Joel Miller x Reader
Soft!Dark Joel Miller for sure.
Summary: You were out on Patrol with Joel. Despite your many protests, and warnings that you should turn back to Jasper due to the storm, Joel ignored you. The storm came in fast, and you find yourself stuck in an old cabin with him, close to Jasper but not close enough. Your stubbornness and sass always wore down on Joel, but being trapped in a cabin with you, he finally snaps.
Written and inspired by the December Daze Challenge prompt “Extreme Weather leads to forced proximity’
Warnings/Triggers: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. Dub-con, non-consensual bondage, non-consensual spanking. Inappropriate use of Christmas lights.
"Come on, Joel, we need to turn around," you called out over the growing wind, your voice tight with urgency as the first flakes of snow began to swirl around you. Joel grunted in response, his eyes focused on the trail ahead, the grip on his rifle unyielding.
You huffed out a sigh, your breath misting in the frigid air. The storm was rolling in fast, and Jasper's warm embrace felt like a distant memory. "We're not gonna make it," you tried again, your words barely audible over the wind's crescendo.
Ignoring your protests, Joel pushed ahead, his stubbornness etched into every furrowed line of his weathered face. You knew better than to argue further. The man was as stubborn as a mule, and the more you protested, the more he'd dig in his heels. Instead, you followed closely, keeping your eyes peeled for any signs of shelter.
As the storm grew worse, the wind howled like a pack of rabid infected, the snow stinging your cheeks like a thousand tiny knives. The cold seeped through your clothes, turning your bones to ice. You were about to voice your complaints again when the silhouette of a cabin emerged through the blizzard. Joel's eyes lit up, and without a word, he trudged towards it, breaking trail through the thickening snow.
The cabin was small and weather-beaten, but it looked solid enough to withstand the storm. You both stumbled inside, slamming the door shut behind you to keep the biting cold at bay. Joel immediately began searching for anything that could help them survive the night, his movements quick and efficient. You stomped the snow from your boots and tried to shake the chill from your body. He got a fire going in the fireplace, adding some warmth to the cabin.
"Damn it, Joel," you grumbled, rubbing your hands together. "You should've listened to me."
He shot you a glare, his eyes like embers in the firelight. "Spare me the 'I told you so's. We're here, and we're gonna make the best of it."
Joel's gruffness was like a familiar blanket, one that you both loved and hated to be wrapped in. It was a constant dance of pushing and pulling, a silent battle of wills that had become almost comforting in the harsh world of the apocalypse. You rolled your eyes and approached the fireplace, feeling the warmth from the crackling fire spread through you. You hadn't realized how much the cold had seeped into your bones until you felt the heat again.
The cabin was sparse, but it had the essentials: a bed, a table with a few chairs, a couch and coffee table in front of the fireplace, and a couple of cabinets that held some canned food and a bottle of whiskey. The sight of the alcohol made your eyes light up. Maybe it could warm you from the inside out and ease the tension between you two.
"Looks like we're in luck," Joel murmured, eyeing the whiskey. He unscrewed the cap and took a swig before passing it to you. The liquid burned a fiery path down your throat, but it was a welcome sensation against the cold that had settled deep within you.
You took a seat at the table, watching as Joel rummaged through the cabinets. His movements were deliberate, a stark contrast to the chaotic world outside. You leaned back in your chair, letting out a sigh. "What's the plan, then?" you asked, your voice echoing in the quiet space.
"We wait it out," Joel replied, his tone gruff as ever. "The storm'll pass eventually. At least this cabin is close to Jasper, probably even has electricity, and the fireplace works. Could be worse."
You couldn't help the eye roll that followed. "Great. Just what I wanted. A cozy night in with Mr. Sunshine." You took another swig of the whiskey and felt the warmth spread through your chest.
Joel ignored your sarcasm, his eyes scanning the cabin for any additional supplies. "We need to conserve food and water," he said, his voice serious. "We don't know how long we'll be stuck here."
You nodded, taking another swig of the whiskey. "Fine by me," you murmured, watching the flames dance. You pace restlessly, drinking the alcohol as Joel checked the cabin, taking stock of supplies, making sure the windows and doors were secure. You were frustrated, you should not have been here. If he had just listened to you and turned around, you could both be warm and safe in your home in Jasper. The warmth of the fire and the alcohol began to loosen the tension in your muscles. "Supplies are all well and good, but what about the lights?" You gestured to the shattered bulb on the floor. The clouds of the storm already made the cabin dark, and the sun was setting, bringing even more darkness. The fire only lit the cabin so much.
Joel's eyes followed your gaze, then darted back to you. "We'll manage," he grunted, his focus returning to the cabin's supplies.
The storm raged on outside, the wind howling like a chorus of lost souls. The only sound in the cabin was the crackling fire and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards. You took another sip of whiskey, the warmth spreading through you, loosening your tongue.
"You know, you can be a real asshole sometimes," you said, your voice a mix of annoyance and affection. Joel didn't look up from his task, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch.
"I've been told that," he replied dryly, his hands moving deftly as he checked the cabin's supplies.
You smirked, feeling the whiskey's warmth spreading to your cheeks. "Yeah, well, it's true. You're always so grumpy, and you ignore me when I'm obviously right."
Joel's head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours with a spark of irritation. "I don't ignore you, I just don't have time for your sass, especially when we're in a situation like this." He gestured to the raging storm outside.
You rolled your eyes, deciding to make the best of it. You began to search the cabin, moving to the bed and pulling out the dusty bin from underneath. It was filled with Christmas decorations, a stark reminder of happier times before the world had gone to hell. "Well, if it weren't for your stubbornness, we'd be back in Jasper, warm and dry."
Joel's sigh was like thunder in the quiet cabin. "You're like a broken record, you know that?" He didn't bother looking up from his task of reinforcing the cabin's windows with whatever he could find.
You pulled out a strand of Christmas lights, the plastic feeling surprisingly warm against your cold hands. "Maybe," you said, the whiskey making your words slur slightly, "but at least I'm not as boring as a brick wall."
Joel's eyes narrowed, the flames from the fire flickering in his irritated gaze. "You're pushing it."
You smirked, holding up the Christmas lights. "Kinda like you were pushing it to finish the patrol instead of returning to safety?" You watched the muscles in his jaw clench, his eyes darkening. You knew you were poking the bear, but the whiskey made you bold, and the thrill of his reaction was oddly enjoyable.
He stalked over to you, the floorboards groaning under his heavy boots. You held your ground, not quite sure if you were playing with fire or if it was just the warmth from the whiskey making you reckless. "Why don't you sit down and keep your mouth shut for a change?" he said, his voice a low growl.
You scoffed. "Make me."
The air in the cabin seemed to thicken as Joel's hand shot out, quicker than you anticipated. He snatched the whiskey bottle from your grasp, his grip firm and unyielding. You stared at him, your heart racing, not quite sure if you'd just crossed a line. But his expression was unreadable, his eyes still a stormy mix of frustration and something else you couldn't quite place.
Without a word, he set the bottle aside and reached for the Christmas lights, his movements deliberate and controlled. He began to untangle the knot, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the tension coiled in every muscle of his body, like a spring ready to snap. The air crackled with it, making your skin prickle with anticipation.
"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a little too high.
Joel didn't answer, his eyes locked on you as he unfurled the Christmas lights. They glinted in the firelight, a strange, almost menacing sight. The tension in the cabin was as thick as the falling snow outside.
"Remove your clothes," he said, his voice low and firm. You blinked, the words taking a moment to register.
"What?" You sputtered, the heat from the whiskey warring with the cold fear creeping into your belly.
Joel's gaze was unyielding, his voice a low rumble. "You heard me. Your clothes are soaked, since you couldn’t be bothered to wear a proper coat for patrol. If we don't dry them, you'll freeze to death."
You took a tentative step towards the fire, the heat beckoning you. The storm outside raged on, the wind howling like a pack of infected closing in. Stripping in front of him made your heart pound, but the alternative was hypothermia. You peeled off your wet layers, your skin pebbling with goosebumps as the warmth of the fire kissed your bare flesh. The flames cast an eerie glow across Joel's face, highlighting the shadows of his stubble. He remained focused on the lights, his jaw set in determination.
The crackling fire popped, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. You felt a shiver run down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. Joel's eyes remained on his task, yet you couldn't shake the feeling of his gaze on you, as if he could see every tremor of your naked body. The air grew thick with unspoken tension as you wrapped a blanket around your shoulders.
He looked up, his eyes lingering on your bare skin before snapping back to the Christmas lights. "Turn around," he ordered, his voice gruff and commanding. You hesitated for a moment before complying, the whiskey making your legs feel a bit wobblier than usual. He approached you, the lights clenched in his fist. "Arms out."
"What are you doing, Joel?" you protested, your voice laced with a mix of confusion and trepidation. But when you didn't move your arms, Joel took the initiative, his rough hands guiding them behind your back. The warmth from the fire was a stark contrast to his icy touch as he began to wrap the lights around your wrists.
The sudden realization of his intent made your heart hammer in your chest. "What the hell, Joel?!" You tried to pull away, but his grip was like a vise, unyielding and unforgiving. The lights dug into your skin, sending a sharp pain that pierced through the whiskey's warm embrace. You struggled, but his strength was overwhelming, and the cold steel of his determination was palpable.
"Hold still," he grunted, his voice low and tight. "This is for your own good."
You thrashed, trying to pull your arms free from his iron grip. The lights dug into your wrists, the plastic biting into your skin as he wrapped them around your arms. Your heart raced, the warmth from the whiskey now forgotten as cold panic set in. The blanket fell to the floor, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in front of the roaring fire.
"Joel, stop!" you yelled, your voice echoing off the cabin walls. But he was relentless, his eyes dark with a strange intensity as he worked to secure the lights around your neck. The plastic tightened, a choking pressure that sent a bolt of terror shooting through your veins.
You tried to twist away, but he was too strong. The lights bit into your skin as he wound them around your torso, his movements swift and deliberate. Above your breasts, the plastic was like a cold embrace, tightening as he pulled. You gasped, feeling the pressure increase as he wove the lights around you, creating a harsh contrast with the fire's warmth.
"Let me go, you sick fuck!" you spat, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. But Joel was unmoved, his eyes focused solely on the task at hand. He wound the lights around your stomach, pulling them taut, the plastic digging into your skin. You could feel your breath growing shorter, the panic rising like bile in your throat.
Above the sound of the storm, you could hear the thundering of your heart, a frantic rhythm that seemed to match the pulse of the fire. Joel's movements were swift and precise, as if he'd done this a hundred times before. The lights bit into the soft flesh of your belly, the cold plastic a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin. You struggled, twisting and fighting against the makeshift bonds, but his grip was unrelenting.
"Damn it, Joel! What the fuck is wrong with you?" you shouted, your voice hoarse from the cold and the fear. Your breath came in ragged gasps as the lights tightened around your thighs, the plastic digging into your skin. Your legs felt like they were on fire, but the rest of you was so cold you could barely feel the pain. You tried to kick him, to get away, but he was too quick.
With a grunt, Joel secured your legs together, the lights wrapping around your ankles like a serpent, leaving you immobilized on the cabin floor. The warmth from the fire taunted you, just out of reach. You glared at him, your eyes filled with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Why are you doing this?" you demanded, your voice shaking.
"I told you to sit down and shut up," Joel said, his voice devoid of any warmth as he plugged the Christmas lights into an outlet on the wall. "You said 'make me'. So I am."
The sudden flicker of the lights made you blink, the colorful glow casting strange shadows across the cabin. Joel stepped back, his gaze traveling over you, assessing his handiwork. The lights wrapped around your body like a garish cocoon, the cold plastic biting into your skin with every breath you took. You squirmed in your bondage, the panic rising like a tide.
With a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, Joel grabbed the large velvet red bow from the box of decorations. "This'll keep that mouth of yours quiet," he murmured, his voice low and dark. You struggled against the bonds, the fear in your eyes unmistakable as he approached.
"Joel, please," you mumbled, the lights tight around your neck, biting your skin. But his expression was resolute as he leaned down, the bow's long tail trailing in the air like a crimson snake. He carefully wrapped the velvet around your head, the soft material caressing your cheeks before he pressed it between your teeth. You bit down on the fabric, the taste of dust and age filling your mouth.
With a firm, practiced motion, he tied the bow at the back of your head, the knot tightening until you couldn't protest anymore. Your eyes watered from the pressure, and you blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. The room grew quieter, the storm outside a muted roar as the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the occasional drip of melted snow from your wet clothes.
Joel settled onto the couch, his legs spread out in front of him as he took in the sight of you, bound and gagged with the Christmas lights. The flames cast a flickering, macabre light over the scene, painting him in shades of orange and red. He took a deep breath, his chest expanding beneath his flannel shirt, the fabric stretching taut against the muscles he'd honed from years of survival. His eyes roamed over your body, the lights highlighting your curves in a way that made your skin crawl.
"There," he murmured, his voice thick with something that could've been amusement or something darker, "quiet, still, and dressed up like a fucking present for me. Couldn't ask for a better Christmas gift." His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and a strange, unwanted thrill. Despite the situation, you couldn't help but notice the way his gaze lingered on your exposed flesh, the hunger in his eyes.
Joel took a large swig from the whiskey bottle, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. He leaned back on the couch, his eyes never leaving you. The fire cast shadows across his face, making him look even more rugged and intimidating. "Maybe this is how I should keep you," he mused, his voice deep and gruff. "To stop that constant fucking chatter."
You glared at him, your eyes full of fire despite the fear. But your body was responding to his dominance in a way you couldn't control. The adrenaline coursed through your veins, making your heart race and your skin tingle. You tested the bonds, trying to ignore the way the lights dug into your skin, sending bolts of pain with every movement. But the pain only seemed to fuel the strange thrill growing within you.
Joel took another swig of whiskey, his eyes never leaving you. He sat and watched you for a long time, enjoying your little struggles and glares. You were acutely aware of the tightness in his jeans, which he palmed at shamelessly. He set the bottle down and stood up, his movements deliberate and predatory. You tugged at the lights again, the plastic cutting into your wrists, the cold biting into your bare skin. But the fight in you was fading, replaced by a weird anticipation. You watched as Joel approached, the fire's glow casting his shadow on the floor, stretching out like a demon's behind him.
When he was close enough, Joel reached out and caressed your cheek, his thumb brushing over the velvet bow. "You know, I don't think this is such a bad idea," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the cabin. "Keeping you tied up and quiet."
Your breath hitched, the fear in your chest morphing into something else entirely. You couldn't believe the way your body was responding to his touch, the way the cold plastic lights seemed to only heighten your sensitivity. Joel's calloused thumb traced the outline of your lower lip, his eyes dark with a hunger that made your stomach clench.
"You're so goddamn infuriating, but you know what?" His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. "I think I might enjoy having you all to myself like this."
With surprising gentleness, Joel lifted you off the floor, the lights cutting into your skin as he positioned you face down on the dusty coffee table. Your breasts cushioned the impact, the cool wood sending a shiver through you, but the lights around your torso and legs dug in unyieldingly. The way he looked at you was anything but gentle, his eyes a stormy sea of desire and frustration.
"Even so, I gotta teach that foul mouth of yours some manners," he murmured, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. His hand moved to your hip, tilting it slightly so that your bare ass was presented to him like a target. The muffle protest from the velvet bow in your mouth was lost in the roar of the storm outside.
Your eyes widened as you stared at him, the incredulity clear even with the bow obscuring your words. Being bound and gagged with Christmas lights in a freezing cabin wasn't lesson enough? Joel's smirk told you he wasn't finished. He stepped back, his hand lingering on your hip, the warmth of his touch leaving a brand against your cold skin.
He pulled the whiskey bottle to his lips again, the amber liquid glinting in the firelight. He took a deep drink, his eyes never leaving yours, and the heat in them was more intense than the flames licking the logs in the fireplace. He set the bottle down with a thud, the sound echoing in the tense silence.
You felt a strange thrill at the way he was looking at you, a mix of fear and excitement. The alcohol was playing tricks with your head, making the situation seem both terrifying and tantalizing. Joel stepped closer, his hand sliding down to caress your ass, the plastic lights digging into your skin with every movement.
"You've been asking for this, haven't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "All that sass and backtalk." His hand squeezed harder, the pain shooting through you, but it was laced with a strange thrill that made your core throb. You couldn't deny it; his dominance was intoxicating.
With a sudden smack, Joel's hand connected with your ass, the sound echoing through the cabin. The shock of it made you jolt, the Christmas lights biting deeper into your skin. A gasp muffled by the velvet bow escaped your lips. The sting grew, spreading like wildfire across your cheeks. It was a harsh contrast to the cold plastic that held you in place.
Joel's hand hovered over you, waiting for your response. You glared at him over your shoulder, the fury in your eyes unmistakable. But there was something else, a flicker of something you didn't dare admit. The whiskey had lowered your inhibitions, and the thrill of the situation was undeniable. You'd always had a rebellious streak, and Joel had just lit the fuse.
He raised his eyebrow, a silent challenge. You knew he wasn't going to stop until he'd made his point. And part of you—a part you didn't dare acknowledge—was eager to see how far he'd go. He brought his hand down again, the smack echoing through the cabin. The pain was sharp, but it sent a jolt of heat through your body, warming you from the inside out.
You struggled against the bonds, the lights cutting into your skin with every twitch. The pain was exquisite, a strange mix of agony and arousal. Joel's hand landed again, the sound of his palm against your flesh filling the room. You bit down harder on the bow, the fabric muffling the sounds of your protests.
"Keep it down," Joel warned, his voice a dark rumble. "Or I'll have to find something else to keep that mouth busy." The implication was clear, and a shiver ran down your spine. Despite the situation, you felt a thrill at the thought, the warmth from the fire and the whiskey mixing with the cold fear in your belly.
His hand fell again, the impact resonating through your body. You couldn't help the whimper that slipped past the bow, the sting of his hand on your skin igniting a fire within you.
The storm outside raged on, the wind howling a mournful tune that seemed to match the rhythm of Joel's smacks. He was relentless, each hit falling in a steady, punishing cadence that had you squirming against the unforgiving Christmas lights. They dug into your flesh with every movement, a bizarrely erotic counterpoint to the heat of his hand.
The pain grew, but so did your arousal. You felt the wetness between your legs, a betrayal that only served to enrage him further. The smacks grew harder, faster, as if he could beat the desire out of you. But it was futile; you were lost to the thrill of his dominance, the way he claimed your body as his own.
Joel's breath grew ragged, his eyes dark with lust as he stared down at your bound form. His hand stilled for a moment, and you felt the heat of his gaze on your skin. "You like this, don't you?" he murmured, his voice thick with need. The accusation in his tone made you want to scream in defiance, but the bow allowed only muffled sounds to escape.
Your body was a symphony of sensations—the cold bite of the lights, the burning ache in your ass, the warmth of your arousal pooling between your thighs. You tested the bonds again, a silent challenge to him. Joel's smirk grew wider, and he leaned down, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. "You want more, don't you?" he whispered, his breath sending a shiver through your body.
Before you could respond—or even think of a snarky remark—his hand fell again, harder than before. The pain was a shock, a beautiful, terrible symphony that made your eyes water. But you didn't fight it. You leaned into the sensation, the warmth spreading through your body like wildfire. The whiskey had done its job, blurring the lines between fear and desire until all you felt was a white-hot need that demanded to be sated.
Suddenly, Joel stopped. He stepped back, his eyes raking over your bound form. He took a deep breath, as if gathering his strength, and then he moved again. The lights dug into your skin as he lifted you off the table, the plastic cold and unforgiving against your bare skin. He carried you over to the bed, the mattress groaning under your weight as he dropped you face down onto it. Your knees bent under you, raising your ass in the air, an unspoken invitation that made your stomach flutter.
With a low growl, Joel straddled you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. The lights around your neck tightened, and you felt a strange sense of security despite the fear. His hand trailed down your back, the touch sending sparks across your skin. "You're going to learn to behave," he murmured, his voice a mix of promise and threat.
He grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back until you were looking up at him. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of true distress, but finding only a fiery challenge. His grip tightened, and you could feel his erection pressing against your thigh. The air in the cabin grew thick with tension, the fire casting flickering shadows across his face.
"You want this," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "You've been asking for it." His hand slid down to the small of your back, his thumb tracing the line of your spine until it rested on the top of your ass. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "You're going to take it, whether you like it or not."
The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you bit down on the bow harder, trying to ignore the heat that was spreading through your body. Joel's hand moved to your hip, his thumb brushing against the slickness of your folds. The shock of his touch made you gasp, the sound muffled by the velvet in your mouth. You felt his erection pressing against your thigh, and the reality of the situation crashed down on you like a wave.
"You're wet," he murmured, his voice a mix of disbelief and triumph. "Fuck, you're so wet for me." His hand moved away, and you felt the bed shift as he stood up. Your eyes searched the room, desperate for anything to break the tension.
The sound of his belt buckle was like a gunshot in the quiet cabin. You tensed, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Joel stepped out of his pants, the sound of his zipper echoing through the room. He removed his pants and boots, and discarded his shirt. You could see the clothing fall to the floor, but he stayed just out of your line of sight, a tortuous action you were sure he did on purpose. You felt the warmth of his body as he leaned over you, his hand reaching down to touch you again, this time slipping between your thighs.
He groaned, his hand sliding over your wetness. "Looks like someone's enjoying this," he said, his voice thick with desire. His fingers circled your clit, the pressure building until you moaned into the bow. You tried to buck your hips, to escape his touch, but the lights held you firmly in place. The plastic was unforgiving, digging into your skin with every movement.
With a grunt, he positioned himself behind you, his erection nudging against your entrance. You tensed, the reality of what was happening crashing down on you like the storm outside. But the whiskey and the thrill of the situation had your body betraying you, eager for his touch. He didn't ask for permission, didn't bother with foreplay. He just pushed inside you, the coldness of the Christmas lights making the heat of his body all the more intense.
You moaned around the bow, the sound muffled and desperate. The stretch was almost painful, but the way your body responded to his was anything but. Joel's thrusts grew deeper, harder, the bed creaking with every movement. The plastic lights bit into your skin as he pulled you back onto him, the pain mixing with the pleasure until it was impossible to tell them apart.
He was relentless, his hips pumping into you without mercy. The whiskey had made you sloppy, your body pliant under his dominance. You felt the warmth building low in your belly, the sensation of his roughness and the cold plastic against your skin driving you closer to the edge. It was a heady mix of fear and desire that had your eyes rolling back in your head.
The bed protested under the force of his thrusts, the old springs squeaking a rhythm that matched the storm outside. Each push sent a jolt of pain through your bound wrists and neck, but it only served to heighten your arousal. You couldn't help but rock back into him, your body moving of its own accord. The velvet bow grew wet with your saliva, but it remained firmly in place, a constant reminder of your lack of control.
Joel's hand moved from your hip to your neck, his grip tightening around the lights that held you in place. The pressure increased, cutting off your air supply just enough to make you panic. But instead of fighting, your body responded with a rush of pleasure, your pussy clenching around his cock. He grunted, the sound vibrating against your back, his strokes becoming more erratic.
With a swift movement, he untied the velvet bow, tossing it aside. It landed on the floor with a soft thud, forgotten in the haze of desire that had taken over the room. Your mouth was finally free, and you gasped for air, the cold air filling your lungs like a balm. Joel leaned down, his hot breath fanning your ear. "If I had known it only took my cock to shut you up," he murmured, his voice a mix of amusement and satisfaction, "I would have fucked you long ago."
The words were a slap in the face. But your body didn't care about the words, didn't care about the fear that still lurked in the corner of your mind. All it cared about was the delicious friction of him inside you, the way he filled you so completely that you felt like you might shatter at any moment.
You moaned, the sound raw and needy, your voice echoing through the cabin. Joel's grip tightened around your neck, his other hand sliding down to your clit. His thumb circled the sensitive nub, the pressure building until you thought you might scream. "That's it," he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp. "Take it."
Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, the waves of pleasure crashing over you, stealing your breath. Joel's thrusts grew more frantic, his grip on your neck unrelenting. You felt his cock swell inside you, his release imminent. And then it washed over him, his body going rigid as he emptied himself into you. The sensation was so overwhelming, your mind didn’t even panic at the possible consequences of his actions.
For a moment, you were both still, the only sound the ragged breathing that filled the cabin. The storm outside had lost none of its fury, but inside, the only tempest was the one raging within you. Joel's grip loosened, and he pulled out, his cock slipping from your wetness with a sound that seemed obscene in the silence.
He stepped away from the bed, and you heard him rummaging through the cabin. You lay there, bound and trembling, unsure of what to do next. The pain in your wrists and neck had faded to a dull throb, overshadowed by the aftershocks of your orgasm. You didn't dare move, didn't dare speak. The air was thick with the scent of sex and the lingering whiskey.
When he returned, it was with a soft, warm cloth. He approached you with a surprising gentleness, the cloth in his hand. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or fear. But all he found was a strange mix of satisfaction and exhaustion. He knelt beside the bed, the mattress groaning under his weight. With careful movements, he began to wipe the mess from between your legs, the cloth hot against your sensitive skin.
You couldn't help the shiver that ran through you as he worked, the sensation of his touch both soothing and arousing. Joel's expression was unreadable, his eyes on the task at hand. He didn't speak, didn't offer any apology or explanation for what had just happened. He simply took care of you, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Once he had finished, Joel stood up, his eyes lingering on your bound form. "Fuck," he murmured, almost to himself. "Wish I had a camera. You tied up in Christmas lights like this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." His words were soft, the awe in his voice making your heart race. It was a strange sentiment, considering the circumstances, but there was no denying the sincerity behind it.
With a sigh, Joel began the delicate process of untangling you from the lights. He was careful not to cause further pain, his movements methodical and precise as he worked. You winced with every inch of plastic that was removed, the cold air of the cabin hitting your skin like a slap. The marks from the lights stood out, red and angry against your pale flesh.
As he unraveled the lights, Joel's touch grew gentler, his thumbs brushing over the welts they had left behind. His eyes remained focused on the task, but his expression softened, the lines of his face smoothing out. The storm outside seemed to quiet as he worked, the only sounds the occasional pop of the fire and the rustle of plastic against fabric.
Finally, the last light was removed, and you could breathe a sigh of relief. Your skin was on fire, and your muscles protested as you moved, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache of need that still thrummed through your veins. Joel tossed the lights aside, his gaze lingering on you, almost as if he were seeing you for the first time.
"You okay?" he asked gruffly, his voice thick with something unreadable. You nodded, unsure of what to say. You weren't okay, but you weren't not okay either. The lines between fear and desire had blurred so completely that you weren't sure where one began and the other ended.
Joel pulled the blankets over you, tucking you in with a tenderness that was jarring after the harshness of what had just occurred. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting heavily on your thigh. His eyes searched your face, looking for any hint of what you were feeling. You met his gaze, the firelight playing across his features, highlighting the concern in his eyes.
"We need to get some sleep," he murmured. "The storm's not letting up." His voice was gruff, but the edge of dominance had faded, leaving only the weariness of a man who had just claimed what he wanted. You nodded, not trusting your voice to be steady. You were still trembling from the aftermath of your forced climax, your body humming with the remnants of pleasure and fear.
Joel stood, pulling the blankets tight around you. His eyes searched the room, lingering on the Christmas lights scattered across the floor. For a moment, you thought he might say something, might acknowledge the twisted game he had just played with your body. But he remained silent, his expression unreadable.
He moved to the fireplace, stoking the flames back to life with a few pieces of kindling. The fire crackled and spat, throwing shadows across the cabin. The warmth washed over you, soothing the last vestiges of cold from your skin. The whiskey had worn off, leaving a dull throb in your head, but the ache between your legs remained, a constant reminder of his dominance.
Joel grabbed a bottle of water from his bag, twisted the cap, and took a swig. He offered it to you, and you gratefully took a few sips, the cool liquid soothing your throat. You handed it back to him, your eyes never leaving his. The silence was deafening, the air thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions.
He sat on the couch, reclining back against the worn cushions. The flames from the fireplace danced in his eyes, casting a warm glow across his features. You remained on the bed, the blankets pulled tightly around you, trying to regain your composure. Despite the warmth, you couldn't shake the cold that had settled deep within your bones. You watched him for a moment, his chest rising and falling with each steady breath, his eyes on the flickering flames.
The silence grew heavier, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the howling wind outside. You couldn't help but feel a mix of anger, confusion, and a strange sense of vulnerability. The way he had taken you, claimed you, was not something you could easily dismiss. Yet, as the shock of the encounter began to wear off, the heat between your legs remained, a persistent throb that you couldn't ignore.
With a sigh, Joel stood and approached the bed. His eyes were softer now, the harshness of the situation seeming to have melted away with the breaking of the storm. He reached out, his hand brushing against the blanket that covered you. "You're shaking," he said, his voice gruff but tinged with concern. "You should come closer to the fire."
He didn't wait for your response, simply scooped you up and carried you over to the couch. You didn't resist, too overwhelmed by the events to argue. He placed you on the cushions, your body still trembling, and sat down beside you, pulling you into his side. The warmth from the fire and his body seeped into you, chasing away the last of the cold.
Joel's arm was a solid weight around your shoulders, his hand resting on your thigh. You felt his thumb move in small, comforting circles, the gesture at odds with the harshness of his earlier actions. His eyes never left the fire, as if he couldn't bear to look at you. The silence grew more uncomfortable with each passing moment, the tension in the room as thick as the snow outside the cabin walls.
He knew he had crossed a line. The way you trembled in his arms was a reminder that he had pushed you further than he ever had before. The question of whether it had been too far played on his mind, a persistent drumbeat that matched the rhythm of the storm outside. His own need for dominance had overruled his better judgment, leaving him unsure of what you were feeling.
Your body had responded to him, that much was clear. But Joel was aware that physical pleasure didn't always equate to mental or emotional consent. He had seen the fear in your eyes, the way you had struggled against the lights. Yet, he also knew that fear could be a powerful aphrodisiac, especially in the kind of world you had grown up in, a world where survival depended on the ability to find pleasure in the most unlikely of places.
He had always kept his darker urges in check around others. Tommy's disapproving glances and Tess's firm refusals had taught him to tuck that part of himself away. But with you, it was different. You didn't cower from his gruffness, you didn't shrink away from his intensity. Instead, you met it with a sass that only served to fuel his fire. It was that sass, that unrelenting spirit, that had brought this side of him to the surface. The storm had simply provided the perfect backdrop for it to unfold.
Joel had never admitted it, not even to himself, but the thought of your sweet, unblemished skin marked by his roughness had been a persistent fantasy. The way you had squirmed and struggled against the lights had brought it all to a boil. He had seen the fear in your eyes, but also something else. A spark of something primal that had called to his innermost desires. It was that spark that had driven him to claim you so fiercely, to push you to the brink of pleasure and pain.
Now, as he held you, feeling the tremors slowly ease from your body, he couldn't help but hope that you felt the same pull towards him that he did towards you. That the heat between your legs was not just a byproduct of his dominance, but a genuine longing that matched his own. He knew it was selfish, knew that he had taken something from you without asking. But in that moment, the storm had stripped away his inhibitions, leaving only the raw, animalistic need to possess you.
The fire crackled, the only sound in the cabin that wasn't the beating of your hearts. You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder, your breathing shallow and uneven. The warmth of his body seeped into you, chasing away the last remnants of the cold. It was as if the storm had passed, leaving behind only the quiet aftermath of what had been a tumultuous event. You felt both used and cherished, a contradiction that had your mind spinning.
The pain from your spanked ass had transformed into a dull throb, a constant reminder of his dominance. Yet, there was something oddly comforting about it, like a bruise from a hard-fought battle, a testament to your survival. You had never experienced anything like this before, the way fear and pleasure had twisted together until you weren't sure where one ended and the other began. The plastic lights had left their marks, but it was the invisible ropes of his will that had truly bound you.
You felt a strange mix of emotions: anger at his audacity, confusion at your own body's betrayal, and a surprising warmth that grew as you lay there, nestled in his arms. Your heart raced with the memory of your fiery protests that had turned into needy moans. It was as if a part of you had been waiting for this, craving the submission to someone strong enough to handle your fiery spirit.
The fire crackled, and you stared into the flames, the warmth of the cabin a stark contrast to the freezing wilderness outside. You had always prided yourself on your independence, your ability to stand on your own two feet in a world that had crumbled around you. Yet here you were, bound and claimed by a man who had the power to bring you to your knees with just a look. It was a humiliating realization, and your cheeks burned with the knowledge of it.
Joel's hand on your chin was firm but gentle, forcing you to meet his gaze. You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. "What's going through that head of yours?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through you. You felt a blush rise up your neck and flood your cheeks, a silent admission of your confusion.
"I'm not submissive," you whispered, your voice trembling. The words felt like a lie, a feeble attempt to reclaim the power he had so effortlessly taken from you. You had always been the one in charge, the one calling the shots, but in that cabin, under the watchful eye of the storm, it was as if you had been stripped bare, all your defenses rendered useless by his dominance. Since Joel Miller had entered your life you had felt that power slowly slip away.
Joel's eyes searched yours, a hint of surprise flickering in the depths of his gaze. "I know you're not," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble against your ear. "But you liked it." There was no room for denial in his tone, only a statement of fact. He knew it, and deep down, you knew it too. The way your body had responded to his rough touch, the way you had moaned and writhed under his control, betrayed the truth of your words.
You tried to sit up, to put some space between you, but his grip on your chin tightened ever so slightly. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice still low but with a firmness that brooked no argument. You met his eyes, the green depths of them holding you in place as surely as the lights had bound your body. "You liked it," he repeated, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "Don't lie to me."
You swallowed hard, the words sticking in your throat. "I'll never let you treat me like that in front of others," you finally managed, your voice a mere whisper. "I won't be some quiet submissive house wife."
Joel's eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. "I don't want a housewife," he said, his voice gruff. "And I sure as hell don't want a quiet one." His hand left your chin, instead sliding down to the small of your back, his thumb tracing small circles over your spine. "What I want," he continued, his voice dropping even lower, "is a partner who likes to be dominated when we are alone."
You stiffened at his words, trying to push away the thrill that shot through you. "I don't submit," you said, the defiance in your voice wavering. But even as the words left your mouth, you couldn't ignore the way your body responded to his touch, the way your pulse quickened and your stomach clenched with anticipation.
"Good," Joel murmured, his hand moving up to cup the back of your head, his thumb brushing against your neck. "Because submission does nothing for me. I don't want a doll that just lays there and takes it." His eyes bore into yours, a challenge in their depths that sent a shiver down your spine. "I love the fire, the fight, the feeling of you struggling under me." His voice grew gruffer, more intense with every word. "That's what I want. Run your mouth to me all day long," he continued, his thumb pressing a little harder, "just know that the more you push, the more you have to take when I get you alone."
The words hung in the air between you, a declaration of intent that had your heart racing. The idea of him seeking out your fight, craving the challenge of bringing you to heel, was both terrifying and exhilarating. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze as heavy as the arm that held you in place. "I don't want you to submit," he said, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to fuck the fight out of you."
Well, fuck. You should be terrified. But the heat pooling between your legs, the way his words made you shiver, told a different story. You had never felt so alive, so... wanted. Joel was a force of nature, a man who had survived in a world that had chewed up and spit out the weak. The idea that you could be the one to challenge him, to make him burn with the same intensity, was intoxicating.
You stared at him, the firelight playing across his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes. The storm outside had settled into a gentle patter against the cabin walls, but the tempest inside of you raged on. Your heart thudded in your chest, a mix of anger and desire that left you feeling dizzy. You had been so sure of your place in the world, so certain of your own strength, and yet here you were, craving the very thing you had fought against.
Joel's words hung in the air like a challenge, a promise that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You should be scared, you told yourself. You should be appalled by the thought of letting this man, this grumpy, overbearing, infuriating man, have that kind of power over you. But instead, all you felt was a strange thrill, a deep-seated need to push back against him, to test the limits of his control.
You looked at him, the firelight playing across his tan, weathered features. His eyes searched yours, as if looking for the answer to a question he hadn't yet asked. The storm outside had settled into a gentle patter, but the one inside of you had only just begun. You couldn't find the words to respond, so you simply nodded. It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible, but Joel's gaze didn't miss it.
His mouth crashed into yours, a kiss that was as rough and demanding as the storm had been. His hands framed your face, his thumbs pressing into your cheekbones as he tasted you, devoured you. It was a claiming, a branding, and you found yourself responding in kind. Your body melted into his, the anger and confusion giving way to a white-hot need that you hadn't even realized existed. That nod had been all the permission he needed, and now, he had you.
Joel's tongue traced the seam of your lips before he bit down gently, a silent demand for entry. You opened for him, the kiss growing more intense with each passing second. His beard was coarse against your skin, a reminder of his masculinity, of the power he held over you. His hands slid down to your waist, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer, your legs wrapping around his hips of their own accord.
With a grunt of effort, Joel shoved you back, your back hitting the couch cushions. He grabbed your hips, lifting your legs over his shoulders as he brought his mouth to your core. The suddenness of it took your breath away, your eyes going wide with surprise. "Joel," you gasped out, a weak protest that was more a moan than anything else.
"We have so much to talk about," you managed, though the words were barely coherent. But even as you spoke, your body was betraying you, arching into his touch, eager for the pleasure you knew he could give. The plushness of the couch cushioned your body, but the starkness of the cabin walls and the flickering firelight served as a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play.
"Do we?" Joel's question was a low rumble, his eyes dark with lust and something else, something that made your stomach clench. His beard was rough against your thighs, his breath hot against your center. "Or do we just need to make sure we understand each other?" He didn't wait for your response, instead dipping his head and pressing a kiss to the apex of your thighs, his teeth grazing the tender skin. You shivered, the anticipation building to an unbearable crescendo.
"What-what do we tell Ellie?" you panted out, trying to regain some semblance of control. The thought of the girl knowing what had transpired here was... mortifying. Joel's smirk was unmistakable, his eyes glinting with mischief as he looked up at you.
"Ellie has been asking me when I was gonna fuck you for months," he said casually, his mouth still dangerously close to your center. "Since almost the first week you joined us. Been yelling at her for using such language. She is gonna be fucking ecstatic."
The crude words had your cheeks burning, but the fact that Ellie had noticed, that she had talked to Joel about it, had a strange kind of thrill to it. It was like you were all connected in a way that went beyond the typical bonds of friendship or family. The thought of her knowing was embarrassing, but it also made you feel a part of something.
You swallowed hard, trying to form a coherent sentence. "What if she... what if she says something?" You couldn't imagine facing her, knowing she knew what had happened between you and Joel. But Joel just chuckled, his breath hot against your skin.
"Let her," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Let them all know. You're mine now, and that's all that matters." He claimed you with those words, with the possessive glint in his eye that sent a thrill through your body. The thought of being his, belonging to this gruff, fierce man, was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. It was a declaration that went against everything you had ever known, everything you had ever been. “They’ll know your mine. But what we do in private, that will stay between us.”
He lowered his mouth to your pussy, his tongue tracing a wet line up your slit, making you gasp. The pleasure was intense, a stark contrast to the pain in your ass that still lingered. Joel's eyes remained locked on yours, watching your reactions, gauging your limits. You tried to push him away, but his grip on your hips was unyielding. The struggle only served to turn you on more, your body a traitor to your own thoughts.
"I want to see how many times I can make you come," he murmured, his breath hot against your clit. "I want to hear you scream my name until your throat is raw." His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body already responding to his demanding tone. You had never been with someone so intense, so focused on your pleasure. It was overwhelming, and yet you couldn't help but crave more.
His tongue slid inside you, curling and stroking, as his fingers found your clit. He worked you with a single-minded determination that had your back arching off the couch. Each touch, each stroke, brought you closer to the edge, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Joel's eyes never left yours, the challenge in them growing with every passing second. It was as if he was daring you to break, to lose control completely.
You felt the first orgasm build, a tight coil of pleasure in your belly. You tried to fight it, to maintain some semblance of dignity, but Joel was relentless. His mouth and hands worked in tandem, driving you higher and higher until you couldn't hold back anymore. With a cry, you shattered, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over
you.
He pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "One," he said with a smug satisfaction, his voice thick with lust. He didn't give you a moment to recover, instead sliding two thick fingers inside you, his thumb pressing down on your clit. You bucked your hips, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation, but Joel held you in place, his gaze never wavering.
"Two," he murmured, his voice a low growl as you felt the second orgasm build. It was as if he had flipped a switch in you, one that you didn't even know existed. Your body responded to his every touch, your muscles tightening around his fingers as he worked you mercilessly. You bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep your moans to a minimum, but it was no use. The pleasure was too intense, too consuming.
Joel's eyes bore into yours, his gaze almost predatory. He could see the effect he was having on you, and it only spurred him on. He added a third finger, stretching you wider, his thumb circling your clit with increasing speed. "Come for me," he ordered, his voice a gravelly rumble. You could feel your body starting to shake, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. "Come on, I know you can do it."
You whimpered, the pleasure and pain blending together in a heady mix that made your head spin. "Joel," you gasped out, your nails digging into the couch cushions. "Please, I can't-"
"Yes, you can," he said firmly, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. "You're so much stronger than you think. Just let go." And with that, he pushed you over the edge once more, your body convulsing around his hand as the second orgasm ripped through you. "Two," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction.
He didn't stop there. Joel was a man on a mission, and his mission was to shatter every last one of your defenses. He slid his fingers out of you, replacing them with his mouth, his tongue flicking and teasing your sensitive bundle of nerves. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on you, his beard tickling your inner thighs.
You struggled in his hold, trying desperately to get free, to get away from the sensation of his mouth, but his grip was ironclad. Each time you tried to pull away, he only held you tighter, his teeth grazing your clit in a gentle bite that had you crying out. It was a dance of power and submission, one you had never experienced before.
As the third orgasm began to build, you realized that you had been fighting a losing battle from the start. Your body was his, and it responded to him in ways you had never felt before. You could feel his smile against your skin, feel his victory in the way his tongue lapped at you, eager to push you to the brink again.
"Three," Joel said smugly, pulling back to watch the aftershocks ripple through you. You lay there, panting and exposed, your body trembling. He leaned back on his haunches, his eyes traveling up the length of your body, lingering on the marks the Christmas lights had left on your skin. The sight of them sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, and you knew that you were lost to this man, to this moment.
Without warning, Joel stood, pulling you with him. You stumbled, your legs weak and unsteady. "Not done yet," he murmured, his voice a dark promise that sent a shiver down your spine. He led you to the bed, the mattress creaking under your combined weight as he pushed you down onto your stomach. Your cheek pressed into the cold fabric as he straddled your thighs, his weight pinning you in place.
"Gonna fuck you all night," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo through the cabin. "See how many orgasms I can draw from you before you pass out. And then," he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear, "how many more I can get from you after that." The anticipation was unbearable, your body already humming with the aftermath of the previous climaxes. You could feel his hardness pressing against you, a reminder of what was to come.
The fear was there, a cold knot in your stomach that made you want to scream and fight and run. But it was mixed with something else, something dark and thrilling. You had never felt so wanted, so desired. The idea that Joel, this powerful, intimidating man, was going to take you apart piece by piece, that he was going to leave you trembling and begging for more, was intoxicating. You had always prided yourself on your independence, your ability to take care of yourself in this harsh world. But now, faced with his dominance, you realized just how much you had been craving this all along.
The struggle was real, a visceral dance of fear and excitement that had your blood singing in your veins. The anticipation of what was to come was like a drug, making your skin prickle with goosebumps. Joel was going to claim you, over and over, until you couldn't think of anything but him, until his name was the only thing you could scream out into the cold, empty night. And the thought of it made you wet, made your body ache with need.
You knew then there was no coming back. No escaping Joel. No one else would ever be able to satisfy you the same way. His dominance had unlocked something within you, something primal and raw that craved his touch, his control. The way he looked at you, the way he talked to you, it was as if he saw right through your defenses, right to the core of who you were. And in that moment, as his weight pressed you into the bed, you realized that you didn't want to escape. You wanted to be his. To belong to him in a way that went beyond the confines of the cabin, beyond the bounds of what was considered proper or acceptable. And you relished the thought of it.
#dark romance#no minors#dub con#reader#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#the last of us#fan fiction#dark!joel miller
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Making Stritzø happen
Gonna be real; I have no idea what their ship name is
But YES. I am gonna make these two a couple!!!
These two meet the same as in canon, and at the Harvest Moon Festival, Blitzø and Striker have the same target, and as it turns out, this target is fast and quick-witted, so Striker and Blitzø have to team up to take their target down. And when they do, Blitzø offers Striker the opportunity to join I. M. P, which he ends up accepting
During Striker's time at I. M. P. He starts inevitably falling for Blitzø, he starts to admire Blitzø's questionable leadership abilities and finds the fact that he tricked Stolas into giving him his Grimoire
But Striker has also had time to realize just terrible Stolas truly is. Like, yeah, Striker knew that Goetia prince was bad luck, they all are! But the way he treats Blitzø just makes his blood boil, but he knows he can't do anything since the Grimoire is their only key to earth
Some other things happen but I don't want to spoil it so I'm just gonna go over how they are as boyfriends okay?
Striker in my mind is much more accustomed to his emotions than at least half of the cast, so I feel like he is rather the romantic once he finds someone who he adores romantically. He loves to plan dates and shit like that, he always has a romantic gesture up his sleeve
Meanwhile Blitzø is way more subtle in how he shows his love and appreciation. And he finds himself slipping back into old habits of pushing people away, especially with romantic partners. He's been through a lot and Striker understands that, but goddam is it frustrating when Striker finds himself being the only one trying to hold this relationship together
Despite Blitzø being illiterate, he has a great memory and is very observant. So if he notices Striker staring at something through a window to a store, he makes a mental note to buy it later. Striker makes an offhand comment about his favorite food? Blitzø is cooking it next thing in the morning. It's the little stuff like that, really
#anti spindlehorse#anti vivziepop#vivziepop critical#vivziepop criticism#vivziepop critique#spindlehorse criticism#helluva boss critical#helluva boss criticism#helluva boss critique#spindlehorse critique
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Finals Week or Final Week? | B.Z. x Reader
Pairing: bsf!Blaise Zabini x fem!Reader
Summary: Studying for your finals with your best friend takes an unexpected turn.
Warnings: Reader has anxiety about exams, swearing, mention of wanting to marry rich and murder your husband
Content: oblivious Reader to some extent, lots of fluff, Blaise is Italian, they're in love your honour, Blaise being an attentive king, not proofread or edited
WC: 3k
AN: My first time writing for Blaise and I low-key hate the end?? but oh well. Interaction of any kind is super appreciated <3
“That's it,” you declared firmly “I'm dropping out.”
“No.”
“Fuck you mean no?”
“You wanna hear it in Italian? No,” Blaise didn’t even bother looking up from his desk when he answered your question, having had this conversation 14 times and counting in the last three hours.
“But Blaise,” you whined, getting up from your desk and flopping on your bed dramatically. “I can't do this shit anymore! I'm too young to be suffering like this.”
At that, he finally gives you a silver of his attention, briefly looking up from his Arithmancy textbook to raise his eyebrows at your theatrics. “Relax, you're gonna be fine,” his words did absolutely nothing to comfort you, and you found yourself sighing in defeat. “What if I marry a rich old man and kill him for his money?” you mumbled, already imagining how you could pull it off. Pansy would surely help you hide the body, and Draco or Theodore could set you up with some rich, pureblood asshole in need of a wife. Lorenzo and Mattheo would probably be down to aid you in the murder plot, so really there wasn't much that could go wrong here.
Blaise finally put his book aside, his full attention on you as he turned your words around in his mind. “Really? You're gonna let the last seven years go to waste and marry rich instead?”
It was a rhetorical question, you knew that, but it was a welcome opening to procrastinate on your studies so you opted to engage in this silly argument with your best friend.
“Absolutely, it's less exhausting and sets me up for life,” you replied, your voice harbouring an edge of challenge, as if beckoning him to counter your statement.
Blaise wasn't one to entertain bullshit, not with his friends, not with his acquaintances. He found it to be a waste of time and energy, energy he could be using on far more efficient things like himself. But somehow, somewhere along his time here at Hogwarts by your side, he found that entertaining your bullshit wasn't quite as bad as he thought. The absurd thought of you going through with the marriage and murder scheme drew a chuckle out of him, the sound low and rich as it pleasantly echoed in your otherwise desolate room.
“What? Are you making fun of my future career Zabini?” you asked, clutching your chest dramatically as you sat up in your bed. He shook his head, the corners of his lips twitching with the hint of a smile. “No, never” he replied, sarcasm dripping so heavily from his voice it was basically a slipping hazard.
“I’m just surprised you think getting married, killing someone and hiding it is somehow less exhausting than studying for your finals,” the mention of your fast approaching finals exams immediately killed whatever inkling of joy you'd fostered with the light banter between you, your head falling against the headboard with a groan.
“Don't remind me,” you grumbled “’Mso fucked Blaise, ‘m gonna fail and repeat the year.” When he realized that there was some sort of conviction in your tone, he stood up from the desk, approaching you on the bed. You had closed your eyes, mumbling to yourself about how worried you were about the exams and all the things you had to finish until then.
You could feel the bed dipping under his weight as he sat down, and you instinctively moved to make place for him. It was a habit really, you were so used to make space for Blaise in your life that you never had to think about it. When you walked in the hallway, you always left enough space for him to walk beside you. At dinner, there was always enough space for him to sit, just like in the library or in classes or even the common room. You couldn't quite remember how life was before you started making space for Blaise Zabini in it, but you weren't about to change that. You liked the way he took up so much of your attention, even with his quiet demeanor and biting remarks, and there was nothing quite like watching him sprawl out on your bed on a Friday night when you were hanging out together, just the two of you.
And just like you had learned to make place for him, he had learned to make exceptions for you. He didn't tolerate bullshit unless it was you, he didn't bother entertaining people unless it was you and he most definitely didn't initiate physical touch, unless it was, of course, you. Just like that, you felt his warm hand capture your chin, tilting your head to the side so you were facing one another. “*Principessa*,” another exception he made for you; the petname he'd given you after you forced him to watch every single Barbie movie with you back in third year had stuck all the way until now. “Open your eyes and look at me,” his voice held no bite and no anger, yet you couldn't shake the anxiety that settled in your stomach as you cracked your eyes open to look at him.
The darkness in his eyes was all-consuming, like a black hole sucking you in and leaving you breathless, unable to think about anything but him. Any thoughts of school or exams were banished in the close proximity of him, the warmth of his body seeping beyond the thin layers of your clothing and settling deep into your bones.
“You're going to be okay,” he said after a few beats of silence. Each word came out slowly over his lips, yet he said it with so much trust and belief, as if it was a fact he knew wouldn't change. “You're going to pass, and you're not going to get bad grades in any subject,” his hand released your chin and settled atop your hand instead. He was perceptive, too perceptive for his own good, so of course he'd noticed you pulling at the flesh around your nails, a nervous habit you'd had ever since you were a child. He squeezed your hand reassuringly, his thumb tracing over your knuckles in a soothing motion that almost brought tears to your eyes.
“Really?” you asked, your voice shaking more than you'd like. You thought it was stupid to get upset about this, dramatic even, but you couldn't help yourself, not when he was looking at you with such warmth and affection. It was like all your defenses melted under his gaze, reducing you into a gooey, emotional mess that you couldn't control.
A small smile tugged on his lips, and briefly you wondered how it'd feel to have them moving against your own, but you quickly threw that thought away. Now wasn't the time to wonder how kissing your best friend would feel like, not when you've known said best friend for the last seven years of your life and had the best friendship at stake along side your sanity and your entire academic career.
“Yes, really,” he said, in that warm tone that made your heart stutter and your brain fuzzy in the best way possible.
You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, absentmindedly biting it as you tried to even out your breathing. You couldn't cry, not tonight when you already had a stressful day behind you. Crying would only fuel your misery -and the murderous headache building up behind your temples- and there was no way you'd try to make it any worse.
Blaise’s eyes focused on your lips, and as if possessed by something else, his free hand came up to your mouth to gently pull your lip free from the destruction of your teeth. “Don't do that,” he murmured, “Your lips are too pretty."
You stared at him wide eyed, unable to process what he just said. Did he mean it in a friendly way? Or was he thinking about you the same way you'd been thinking about him for months now, wondering what your lips felt on his?
The silence between you two was tension filled and heavy, not a word spoken as you relished the warmth and proximity. Schoolwork was the last of your worries when Blaise was eyeing your lips with such fixation and hunger. Perhaps it was your imagination, but you could swear that he leaned down just a bit, enough for the scent of citrus and musk to envelope your senses.
His hand cupped your cheek, the touch tender and uncharacteristically unsure, as if he was scared you'd pull away at any moment. Blaise was the most confident person you've ever known, his words carefully chosen, his actions well thought out and never faltering in the face of the unknown. But this? This was completely new to him, something he'd never thought he'd actually do, there wasn't an an ounce of his usual self assured demeanor behind the feather light touches. To his surprise however, you leaned into his hand, your eyes staring up at him with the same hunger he displayed. You'd never once shyed away from him, too entranced by the enegamyic allure he exuded, and you found yourself pulled into his orbit once more.
His face was closer now, so close you could see the gold specks in his eyes, pupils blown wide with desire and affection in a way that had your heart aching for him. His eyes flickered from your lips up to your eyes, searching for any hint of protest or dissatisfaction in your expression. When you managed to give him a light nod, answering the unspoken question for your consent, it was all he needed before he closed the gap between you, his lips tenderly pressing against yours.
The kiss was tentative and light, as if the both of you were in disbelief about this. It couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds, yet when he pulled away, you could swear hours had passed by, any sense for time malfunctioning from what you just experienced.
“Blaise, I-”
“I like you,” he cut off, not giving you any time to make excuses or apologies like he knew you would. “I like you so much more than I should like my best friend and it's driving me insane.”
Your throat went dry at that, your mouth falling open and closing again as if you were a fish on land. Could this be real? Or were you just hallucinating from the stress?
“Is this my finals week or my final week? Am I hallucinating?” you whispered suddenly, completely catching him off-guard. He blinked at you, once, twice, before throwing his head back with laughter.
Just then you realized that your response to his confession was completely ill fitting and the blood rushed to your face. “Don't laugh!” you exclaimed, hitting his shoulder with mortification “It's a reasonable deduction when you're suddenly confessing to me!”
To his credit, he tried to calm down from his sudden outburst quickly, his eyes staring at you with clear amusement. “It isn't sudden when you think about it,” he mused “I've always liked you, always gave you special treatment that no one else gets, principessa.”
Your mind cycled through all the instances Blaise had gone out of his way, and out of his comfort zone, to do something for you; too many to count you just realized. He was a well-mannered person overall, yet his words and action around you had always been just a bit kinder, a bit more vulnerable, reserved for you alone.
Your face burned brighter at the realization. God how could you have been so oblivious? You were sure everyone else had seen it, but you were too stuck in your head to see the way he looked at you, to notice the way his touch lingered just a bit too long.
“God I'm so stupid sometimes,” you mumbled in response, eliciting a chuckle from him. “That's okay,” he said with a teasing edge “I like it when you're stupid like that, makes it more fun to bully you about it.”
Any sort of protest or reply died in your throat when you felt him lean into you again, his lips brushing against yours gently. “May I?” his voice was low and quiet, as if speaking any louder would shatter the moment.
Instead of replying, you set your hands on his shoulder, pulling him closer to crash your lips against eachother, satisfied at the surprised noise you drew out of him.
The kiss this time was firmer, more steady with a simmering heat below the surface. The awkwardness of teeth and lips clashing against one another didn't bother you one bit, it only made it more exciting when you finally found a rhythm that you both followed as your lips moved in tandem against one another.
Both of his hands settled on your waist, his thumbs caressing your skin through your clothes in soothing circles that had you blanking out. He was everywhere; his scent, his warmth, his lips and his hands driving your mind into a maddening blank state with not a single coherent thought left in it.
It could've been a few seconds or an eternity, but when you pulled apart, you were both gasping for air, eyes wide open at what had just transpired.
“I like you too,” you suddenly said, realising you'd never replied to his statement. “So much that I don't know what to do with it,” the hint of vulnerability in your voice didn't go unnoticed by him, his expression immediately softening. This was uncharted territory for the both of you, the promise of what you could be staked against what you already had.
“It's okay,” he whispered, his voice nothing but warm and affection filled as he took your hand and held it to his mouth, pressing gentle kisses to your knuckles. “We can take it slow, do it our own way yeah?”
“Even if I wanna go out with you but ‘m too stressed to think about anything right now?” you asked, causing Blaise to shake his head in amusement. “Then don't think about it yet, I'm not going anywhere,” you couldn't help the smile that overtook your features, grinning at him with glowing happiness.
“You're so fucking sappy sometimes,” nudging his shoulder playfully, you half shoved him off the bed to get up, laughing at the dramatic protests as he faked a fall to the floor.
“Only for you, ungrateful wench,” he huffed, grabbing your hand and pulling you down to the floor with him. You landed on top of him, shrieking and thrashing in protest as you demanded he let you go.
You tried to escape his grasp, yet there was no use struggling against him, his arms wrapped too tightly around your waist, keeping you firmly against him.
“I need to get back to studying,” you mumbled once you ceased your protests, sighing contently when he bang rubbing your back gently. “Actually, you need a nap,” he chided. You eyed him suspiciously, wondering why he would suggest a nap when you had mountains of study material to get through. There was too much to do, and too little time, you couldn't afford slacking off now. “You have a headache, a really bad one at that,” he clarified, causing your eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.
“How the hell-”
“Your eyebrows,” he added with a smile, gently massaging the spot between them, “You always furrow them when you're having a headache and you've been doing that more and more for the last hour.”
No words left your mouth at that revelation, at the sheer amount of attention he paid to you. You didn't even know you did that, yet here he was, paying attention to every detail about you as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You expected the gesture to make butterflies flutter in your stomach, but instead you felt a sense of calm wash over you, secure in the knowledge that Blaise had always known you, always seem through you even when you tried to hide.
There was no use arguing with him about this, he allowed you to move away from him before tugging you on your feet and gently pushing you towards your bed.
“C’mon,” he said “I'll sleep with you if you want, that way we're both taking a break.” At that, you did settle into your bed with a little less grumbling, moving over to allow him to lay down beside you.
It wasn't the first time you both shared a bed; it had become a routine for you, sharing your space together no matter where. So the moment he settled into it behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him.
His warmth and scent, coupled with the quiet sound of his breathe, were the perfect way to lull you into sleep, the pounding in your head becoming nothing but a dull ache as your eyelids grew heavier.
The last you felt before slipping into a pleasant sleep was the press of his lips against the crown of your head,the chase kiss warming you from head to toe as you sighed blissfully.
Perhaps Blaise was right; you wouldn't fail your exams after all. When you woke up, you'd get back to studying and trying your best, and while you weren't sure if this was the last of your emotional outbursts surrounding the academic stress, you were sure Blaise would be there by your side. That thought was what accompanied you into your dreams, pleasant and warm sensations easing your mind.
#blaise zabini#blaise zabini x reader#blaise zabini x you#blaise zabini x y/n#slytherin#slytherin boys#slytherin x reader#slytherin drabbles#slytherin boys x reader#hp fandom#blaise zabini fic
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slow dancing
warnings, none!
note, this is a draft from 2022 omfg
There are many things Peter Parker is amazing at, fighting, acrobatics, being a good person, the list goes on and on. However the one thing he was not the best at was Slow Dancing. Today you were feeling spontaneous and suggested you two go dancing.
Now, you weren't going to pretend you were an expert at slow dancing. You knew a few moves and that was it, but it'd be enough to keep you two dancing the whole night. Peter on the other hand knew little to nothing.
You kept trying to show him the little bit of what you knew however, he couldn't quite catch on. Hence why the man was now tripping over his own feet on the hardwood floor that turned into a temporary dance floor. And there you were, laughing like hell at him.
"Peter, it's okay if you don't know how to slow dance." You said in a playful tone while still giggling at the way he moved his body.
"You know the movies make this stuff look so easy!" He replied looking at you with his signature smile that made you absolutely melt.
"We can always go somewhere else for a date, it was just something I randomly suggested." You reminded him.
"You know what, nope. I am gonna get this down right here right now for you." Peter squared his shoulders, determination lighting up his face as he held out his hand toward you. "Alright, show me again. Step by step this time. I’m not giving up that easily."
You grinned, taking his hand and moving closer. “Okay, okay. First, you don’t have to overthink it. Just follow my lead.”
You placed his hand on your waist, keeping your other hand in his. His fingers twitched nervously, and you could feel his body stiffen.
“Relax, Peter,” you said softly, your voice soothing. “You’re not fighting a supervillain. This is supposed to be fun.”
“Right, fun,” he muttered, a sheepish chuckle escaping his lips as his shoulders dropped slightly. “No pressure or anything.”
“Right, fun,” he muttered, a sheepish chuckle escaping his lips as his shoulders dropped slightly. “No pressure or anything.”
You started with a simple sway, gently guiding him. At first, he was a little stiff, his movements jerky and unsure, but as the minutes passed, he started to loosen up.
“There you go,” you encouraged, looking up at him. “See? You’re doing great.”
Peter glanced down at his feet, as if making sure they were obeying him for once. “Are you sure? I feel like I’m one wrong step away from disaster.”
You laughed, leaning closer to him. “You’re overthinking it again. Just look at me, not your feet.”
His brown eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur. The warmth in his gaze made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile.
“There,” you said, your voice quieter now. “Just like that.”
He chuckled softly, as his movements were finally starting to become as fluid as yours. "Think 'm getting the hang of it now."
"You were always a fast learner, no?" You teased kissing his cheek. Peter tightened his hold on you slightly, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “It’s easier when I’ve got you with me.”
“Cheesy,” you mumbled putting your head into his chest, though you couldn’t help but smile against him.
“Maybe,” he admitted with a playful grin and kissed the top of your head. “But it’s true.”
The music played on, and the two of you stayed close, moving together in a rhythm that felt entirely your own. It didn’t matter that the two of you weren't perfect at slow dancing. What mattered was that he was here, with you, giving it his all and making the moment unforgettable.
additional note ! i really wanna get back into writing more :( i hate dropping 2-3 fics then disappearing for months at a time, so my requests are open 🫶🏾
𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
#spirits works 🤍#x black reader#black!reader#black reader#fem!reader#spiderman x reader#tasm peter parker#tasm x reader#andrew garfield x reader#peter parker x reader#spiderman fanfiction#x reader
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Can you do like a background of Aurora and Joshua's relationship like a timeline and how did the members react to them being together, obviously 1 to 11 members from seungcheol to dino these men are all nosy like they would find out accidentally and tell others lol, btw love your writings please post more 🥰🥰 HAHAHA
“They Don’t Know That We Know”
⊱ timeline: march 2017
⊱ summary: aurora and joshua finally decided that it was time to tell their members about their relationship, but little did they know, all 12 members had secretly found out in their own.
⊱ a/n: hi anon! ty for the request! this writing is just how the members found out abt aurora and josh, but i’m planning to post one abt how they met and fell in love. stay tuned for that, and i hope this satisfied ur request!
ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ
it was the day after their one month anniversary, and the couple had been snuggling up to each other on the couch watching a movie. it was a good thing that aurora had her own apartment because they would’ve been easily caught by the other members if they were living in the dorms.
“when are we gonna tell the boys we’re dating?” aurora thought out loud.
“whenever you want to,” joshua answered nonchalantly, eyes still focused on the tv.
she turned her head to look at the boy, “well i think i want to. i mean we’ve been together for a month now, and we can’t keep it a secret forever.”
finally, joshua turned to make eye contact with areum. “how about we tell them tomorrow after practice? does that sound like a good idea?”
“it does,” she smiled.
so, the next day once practice was over, aurora stopped everyone from leaving to tell them their secret.
“guys wait don’t leave yet. i um need to tell you something.” areum said, glancing at joshua who was already staring at her.
the boys all stopped their actions, turning their attention to the girl, “hurry up and spit it out bro. i have places to be.” seungkwan urged.
“i- we are dating. joshua and i are dating,” aurora blurted.
“bitch, we know.” jeonghan bluntly confessed.
“wait what?” shua furrowed his eyebrows, looking between the group of boys and areum, who was equally confused.
“well…”
a couple weeks ago, aurora and joshua were in the middle of being all lovey dovey in the dorm kitchen, thinking they were slick (they weren’t). it had been 12 am in the morning, so all of the members must have been asleep. and they were, all 12 boys fast asleep in their room, all except hoshi. he had forgotten to eat dinner, so hoshi decided to go to the kitchen to make a late night snack.
just before entering the kitchen, he heard the voices of his shua hyung and areum. though soonyoung didn’t think much of it because the two had always been super close. but when he moved to actually enter the room, he was stunned by the scene in front of him. they were kissing. like on the lips. he had her leaning against the counter, hands tangled in her dark hair. he was shocked to say the least. hoshi covered his mouth to prevent any sound of disbelief from escaping and hurried back to his room.
the next day, soonyoung chose not to confront the couple, but instead chose to tell the 11 other boys. he didn’t even try to keep it to himself. so moving on from then, the members just kept to themselves the fact that two of their members were dating.
“wait. so you guys knew this entire time and didn’t say anything?” aurora stared at the boys in disbelief.
“um yea, we wanted to see how long it would take for you to tell us yourselves.” jun spoke as if it was already obvious.
“you guys weren’t exactly good at hiding it either. i mean we can see it in your eyes,” minghao added.
“it’s okay noona and hyung, we’re happy for you guys.” dino smiled at the two. the members all nodded in agreement, reassuring the couple that they were indeed not upset.
“we’ll just have to get used to you guys being so,” mingyu paused, “so in love.”
joshua stared into her eyes, face filled with joy as he grabbed ahold of her hand. “i love you,” he spoke causing her to blush. “i love you too.”
half of the boys made gagging noises, and the other half oohed and awwed. but in the end, none of their weird sounds mattered, because either way the couple knew that deep down their members fully supported their relationship.
#seventeen#seventeen 14th member#svt aurora#svt carat#svt scenarios#svt imagines#svt joshua#joshua seventeen
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Gonna toss a couple snippets from my current WIP, an as-yet-untitled AU fic featuring an arranged marriage between my Cadash and the Viscount of Kirkwall, one Varric Tethras. Putting two snippets in because well, they're short and the second one is drama.
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"You said there were other girls staying here before me?" she asked, undoing the lacing on her wet dress.
"Aye, a handful or so, showed up one after the other," Eliza replied. "All dolled up they were, painted and everything. Showed up one after the other and spent their time hanging off his Excellency when they weren't loitering about in their best clothes or wandering off to the market." She shook her head with a frown. "Rubbed all of us the wrong way. We couldn't have been gladder to see each of them go."
Darvia paused, her head still inside the dress she was putting on. "Go? Where did they go?"
"Nobody's quite sure, one day they were here, the next they were gone. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say."
A cold chill swept down Darvia's back. Gone, just like that. She'd wondered at first if they were live-in courtesans hired by the Viscount, from the descriptions the housekeeper had given. But if they were like her... had they been brides for the Viscount as well? In the back of her head she remembered hearing a story about some Orlesian noble who'd married wife after wife and murdered them in a secret room in his castle. Beard-someone or other, Orlesians had strange names. Slowly she took her braids down from where they were pinned on top of her head and began to undo them so they'd dry properly.
Was she in danger too? She'd have to be on her guard. Still behind the screen, she lifted her dress and double checked the daggers strapped to her thighs, making sure they were secure. Then, she resettled her skirts and walked over to the bed. "May I help you tidy up? I'm used to taking care of myself back home."
"Bed's just about made, but if you'd like to stash your clothes and belongings, the wardrobe's beside you," Eliza called. Darvia nodded and set about dragging her trunk over to unpack, taking extra care with the lacquered box. She gave it a gentle stroke before closing the wardrobe doors on it.
Beware, Serah No-Beard, this bride has claws.
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The Viscount of Kirkwall lay curled on the ground, surrounded by the remains of a tray of porcelain and an overturned chair.
All her years of carta work seemed to unfurl themselves, spurring her body to act even as her brain reeled at the sight. She dashed across the floor, grateful for the carpet that prevented her feet from sliding, and dropped down beside the man on the floor. His chest still rose and fell, albeit erratically, so she wasn’t looking for a cause of death. There was also no visible blood on the floor or his clothing, so she could put stabbing lower on the list.
Eyes still open, but barely-- good. He hadn’t lost consciousness. Yet. No chance of his clothes strangling him with that wide neckline. Darvia reminded herself to say a prayer later thanking the Maker for the man’s vanity. His fair skin was flushed across the cheeks, with wisps of red-gold hair plastered to his forehead by sweat. Her fingers slid to his neck, finding a fast heartbeat.
Dilated eyes, rapid pulse, flushed skin, whatever weakness or dizziness threw him to the floor… she knew it had to be poison. The remains of the tray said likely ingested. She longed to investigate more, but dared not leave his side.
“BRAN!” she shouted, gathering up all of her breath into a bellow. “SENESCHAL BRAN!” The sound echoed off the cold stone walls. Maker, let him hear me, she begged silently.
“Must you yell?” a raspy voice came from below her. Darvia stared down at the man before her, a burst of hope swelling in her chest. “Some of us happen to have a headache.” A rough cough burst from his lips, shaking through his whole body.
“Headache!” Darvia replied with enthusiasm. “Dizziness? Weakness?”
“Do you think I’d be on the floor if the room wasn’t spinning, Carta?”
A faint smile crossed Darvia’s face. His jokes were just whistling in the dark, to be sure, but at least he had the presence of mind to joke in the first place. “Good to know, I might have thought this was the Viscount of Kirkwall’s idea of a good time,” she teased, but the humor felt forced as it left her lips. If it could just keep him conscious and talking though…
Helllloooooo! I know people are maybe tired/busy/unavailable today, so no pressure or anything, but I thought we could all share WIPs today?
Writing, art, whatever you want! (I’m gonna tag DA bc most people are here for that, but feel free to share no matter what you’re working on!)
I’ll post mine in a bit! Rb + add !
No pressure of course— have a great day! ☀️
#dragon age#wip wednesday thursday#dragon age inquisition#inquisitor cadash#varric tethras#my writing#darvia cadash#varric x cadash#look she's not the inquisitor in this but i'm tagging it appropriately for my blog#she's very much a girl who's barely in the carta because her parents pissed people off and she's paying the price a bit#ever so slightly inspired by the My Happy Marriage anime#but also the initial spark came from a retelling of east of the sun west of the moon#it's me smashing my dolls together to make them kiss and i'm not ashamed
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i just remembered i never posted this edit i made at the end of limited life over here, so here it is! i still love this one a lot.
(apologies for the tik tok logo, i made this over a year ago now so i don’t have the original video, just the version i posted over there, so i had to download it from there in order to post it.)
#limited life smp#life series#traffic smp#trafficblr#martyn inthelittlewood#inthelittlewood#eyesandears#i could tag everyone but. i won’t do that to you. martyn is the focus of this so he gets special tagging privilege#you can tell how old this is because of 1. the spoiler warning#and 2. the fact that bdubs’ last words are the only ones not from his pov cause we didn’t have his yet#also when i say i made this over a year ago i mean i started it the moment martyn’s liml finale was out#and it was posted w/in two days#i knew i was gonna make this like. so fast
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This was all the way back from the end of 2.3.
Hey Sparkle what the fuck.
#So out of left field#she didn't even anything to do with 2.6! she didn't even make an appearance!#I wonder if she had anything to do with it all or if she just knew from Silverwolf's script and is fucking with us#it's hard to tell with her jfkdjsklajd#...by which I mean I wonder if she was like playing both sides the way Reca did#I don't think she'd fully side with Primitive or anything bc people turning into monkeys doesn't seem like it'd serve her.#how are they gonna appreciate her art form like that?!#also Acheron literally just impersonating a Galaxy Ranger was enough to get her a death sentence. Sparkle is wild but she's not stupid.#And aligning with Primitive seems like a fast track to a messy execution. no one wants the Galaxy Rangers on their ass.#fun side note about the current mr. cold feet's pop-up shop event going on:#I think this Sampo really IS our Sampo and not Sparkle in disguise or anything. just that some outside influence might be fucking with him.#he WOULD have been on Penacony right around the time all this happened. and he was closely in cahoots with Sparkle herself.#and memetic viruses- whether from Penacony memoria or say maybe a meme crate unearthed out of the snow-#are known to have the possible effect of making one horribly nihilistic. to the point of giving up on life. just saying.#(don't actually know that it's much of anything but GOSH is it a lovely thing to daydream about uwu)#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail sparkle#hsr sparkle#sparkle#hsr 2.3#hsr 2.6#penacony#hanabi#hsr hanabi#honkai star rail hanabi
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