#i was like okay she gone. who else can i WIFE TIME | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscurls · 1 year ago

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feel it in your bones

next part

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12.5k

summary: Two years ago, you finished your PhD and moved to Vermont. In the time since, you’ve gotten a job as a college professor, had your heart broken, and sworn off relationships entirely. Enter Joel, the father of one of your students, here for Homecoming Weekend – and too attractive to resist.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), alcohol consumption, fluff, smut, masturbation (f), mutual pining(?), sexual tension, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cumplay / cum eating, some light biting, use of pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, etc.), reader has an asshole ex, no use of y/n

a/n: my first Joel fic! This is honestly a bit self-indulgent but I love fall and academia and Joel Miller so sue me okay. ty to my bby @caffeinated-validation for reading through this and offering your insight -- get you a partner who will beta your filthy Joel Miller smut for you lmao <3

You’ve gotten used to being alone.

You don’t mind it as much as you had a few months ago, the breakup still fresh, every touch of your own fingers seering into your skin when you’d remembered the way he’d touched you, the sound of your voice almost unrecognizable as you’d convince yourself each day to get out of bed and go to work, where you’d inevitably run into him. It was painful then, having to come home to the quiet, always far too aware of the sound of your own thoughts drumming against the inside of your skull.

Now though, you revel in that quiet. Sip your coffee in silence each morning. You’ve learned how to stay lost in your work, bringing home stacks of papers to grade and eating through texts to support your research while your dinner gets cold on the table in front of you. You’re well aware that this isn’t the healthiest way to cope, to just avoid it all, but it’s better than feeling.

You’ve sworn off relationships entirely. It’s a silent promise to yourself – that you’ll remain married to your work. You will devote all of your energy to making sure your students excel and that your research is strong. That is your life’s purpose, to make use of the PhD you worked so hard to get – not to be someone’s girlfriend or wife. And you’re fine with that, really. You’ve become immune to loneliness – or numb, maybe.

Regardless, you welcome the independence. You don’t have to worry about anyone else’s thoughts or feelings when it comes to the way you spend your own time. You’re free to do whatever you want. You can draw yourself a bath, fill it with bubbles, sit in it while you drain a bottle of wine into your mouth until the water runs cold. You can eat an entire box of dry cereal in one sitting while you re-watch your favorite show for the twentieth time. You can make yourself cum at any hour of the night with your vibrator or your shower head or your hand – and then go to work the next morning without a semblance of guilt.

Really, you like being alone.

Until you don’t.

It’s Homecoming Weekend at Sarah’s school.

She had insisted that Joel didn’t have to come, that it was mostly an opportunity for the college to milk donations out of sentimental alumni. But he’d missed her for the month she’d been gone, the house far too quiet with just him in it. In previous years, Joel had busied himself following Sarah’s departure with home projects. Three years in, though, he’s updated just about every room in the house, re-done the floors, built a brand new back deck.

In other words, he’s fresh out of distractions.

So, he’d made the trek to Vermont, with the excuse that he’d always wanted to experience a New England fall. It’s a lie, one that Sarah can probably read right through, considering he vocalizes his discomfort whenever the temperature drops below 70 degrees in Texas, but she goes along with it.

Besides, he wants to see what his tuition money is paying for.

In truth, Joel had been nervous when Sarah announced what major she’d decided to pursue. She had just finished her freshman year, prerequisite courses all completed. When she’d said the word – anthropology – Joel hadn’t even been sure what it meant. Since then, she’s explained it to him many times and in truth, he’s still none the wiser. Really, he’s just happy that she’s happy. Her passion for it is evident on her face any time she talks to him about the courses she’s taking, how great her professors are.

Especially you – she talks about you all the time – her mentor.

You’re supervising her on her thesis project – a qualitative assessment on students’ views on feminism and gender politics in the classroom. This past summer, Joel swears Sarah had mentioned your name more than her own friends’. She’d told him what courses you teach, what research you’ve conducted, all the countries you’ve traveled to for fieldwork. And she gives the best advice – Sarah had said one night over dinner – she’s like, my lifeline at school.

Joel doesn’t know you, but he’s thankful for you – for the guidance you so clearly provide Sarah.

There’s an Open House today for the Social Sciences college, which Joel tags along with Sarah to. He’s hopeful that he’ll learn something, come to understand the field and why Sarah loves it.

A buffet table stocked with refreshments sits on one side of the lecture hall. Sarah grabs them both cups of water infused with cucumber while Joel saves them seats at the back. There’s a slideshow projected onto the white board at the front, the current slide reading: An Introduction to the Social Sciences College & Our Current Research Efforts. A group of professors gathers at the front, name tags stuck to their button-downs and blazers. Sarah spots you as she sits down, pointing you out as she hands Joel his water.

“There – that one’s my mentor – the one in the plaid pants.”

Joel’s eyes follow her finger to the group at the front, scanning down the line. There’s a man, short and stocky with noticeably small hands hooked by the thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. Next to him, is a woman, taller than him, wearing a bright turquoise silk shirt, gold bangles decorating both of her wrists. And next to her is you, in the plaid pants.

Sarah had told him a lot of things about you, but she’d never mentioned that you’re fucking gorgeous. You’re smiling at something Turquoise Shirt has just said to you, and it’s like your entire face is glowing. Joel has to take a sip of water to collect himself.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you for the entirety of the presentation.

The dean of the college starts by briefly covering each department and what research efforts they have planned for the semester. Joel should be listening, he came here to listen – but he can’t get himself to focus on anything other than you.

You’re mostly focused on the presenter. Every so often, though, you distractedly toy with the buttons on your cardigan or twirl a strand of your hair between delicate fingers. And Joel is suddenly realizing how touch-starved he is after years of refusing to date – because just watching you, your hands – is about to send him into orbit.

You’re well-spoken too, he learns, when you take the microphone to discuss your current research project.

“This semester, I’ll be delving into the presence of food deserts in Vermont, and the effects these are having on the overall health of youth in the state,” you say. “We have received a sizable grant for this research, and I am thrilled to get started in a matter of weeks. This project will span the better part of the academic year as I speak to locals and craft surveys that will provide qualitative data to support my findings from the field.”

You press down on the clicker in your hand. A new slide projects onto the whiteboard. It’s a photo of you against the backdrop of a jungle, lush, green trees stretching past the top of the frame. The wide-brimmed hat you’re wearing covers most of your face – but that damn smile radiates through the makeshift screen.

“This is me last summer, in Peru. My research here was much more self-indulgent – I studied the important role that food plays in the average family there – and ate wayyyy too many sweets.”

The crowd laughs. It’s the first reaction they’ve expressed this entire time.

It’s entrancing, the way you command the room. You have such a calm confidence about you as you speak, words never once faltering as you stride back and forth across the front of the lecture hall. Joel isn’t much of a talker – maybe that’s why he feels like he could listen to you for hours on end. He thinks that you could read the damn phone book and his focus would remain unwavering. That your voice, velvet-soft, could spellbind him without much effort.

When your portion of the presentation ends, he’s more than a bit disappointed.

Students and their families filter out of the lecture hall. You situate yourself in a corner of the room for the actual Open House portion of the event, at the ready to answer any questions or, more likely, offer directions to another part of campus.

You smile as familiar faces and strangers alike pass you, reach for your to-go mug on the table behind you, and take a sip. The coffee is pretty much ice-cold now, but you still gulp it down, only after the caffeine anyway.

You place the mug back down with a light thud against the tabletop. Suddenly, a voice you’ve come to know well rings in your ear.

“Professor!”

When you look up, Sarah Miller is bounding down the aisle, signature smile plastered across her face. And there’s a man behind her, you notice, moving much slower.

He’s tall, broad shoulders pulling taut against the green flannel he’s wearing. He cradles a beige workwear jacket in the crook of his bicep,corded muscle visibly bulging against fabric. His other hand rubs at the scruff along his jaw, pointedly sharp in the patches where hair doesn’t grow.

He has a distinguishable nose, you notice as he gets closer, strong – large and hooked at the center of his tan face. It’s complemented perfectly by his plush, pink lips that seem to be set in a permanent pout.

In other words, he’s handsome – almost distractingly so, as he stands next to Sarah in front of you.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she beams – turns to the man next to her.

“Dad, this is my mentor,” She says your name.

He nods. His eyes meet yours. They’re deep brown, almost black – and undeniably entrancing.

“‘‘ts nice to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Joel.”

Ma’am.

It’s not like the word is foreign to you, given your profession. There’s something about the way he says it, though, that makes your head spin, his southern drawl dripping in honey-butter and bourbon.

Joel outstretches a hand. You shake it – try to ignore the way it dwarfs yours.

“Joel,” you repeat, eyes locked firmly on the space between his eyes. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“That was a great presentation you gave up there. You’re a good, uh – talker.” His expression is unreadable. His hands fidget at his sides.

You offer him a smile. “Thank you – I think? My students probably wish I would shut up sometimes. Right, Sarah?”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, “as if you’ve never seen your rating on Rate My Professor.”

She’s not wrong – you pride yourself on having pretty stellar reviews – but you also try your hardest not to let them get to your head. Sarah isn’t helping that, right now.

“Anyways,” she exaggerates the word, “what are you up to tonight, Professor? They’re holding an exhibition at the art center later, all student work – d’you wanna come with us?”

Your reflex is to say no. After all, he’ll probably be there. Your ex, Quentin, works in the art history department. And even though you’re over him, you’re not exactly looking for an excuse to be in the same room as him. But you technically don’t have plans tonight, and you can’t even think of a good lie right now with Sarah staring you down.

And then there’s Joel, standing in front of you, all broad shoulders and chiseled jaw – and you think, what a great opportunity to get to know him, you know, as the parent of your student. Definitely not as anything else, anything more. It is Homecoming, after all.

So, you say yes.

“Cool!” Sarah smiles, “Meet you there at 7?”

You nod, tell Sarah that sounds perfect, and that you’ll see them tonight.

Sarah starts toward the door. But Joel stands there for a moment longer. His eyes linger on yours, his wordless stare threatening to burn a hole in your head. You can feel the heat of it, beads of sweat beginning to form at the base of your neck. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying your hardest to conceal them.

A beat passes. It looks like he might say something, his mouth opening then closing again.

He gives you a courteous nod, turns on his heels, and follows after Sarah.

Joel hadn’t remembered the food being this bad when he’d visited for orientation. He struggles to keep down a particularly rubbery bite of chicken and reaches for his water bottle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on not vomiting.

Sarah laughs next to him. “Hey man, at least you don’t have to eat this shit year-round.”

He grunts in agreement. “Gonna cancel your meal plan next semester and jus’ give you the money to buy groceries.”

She hums. Cocks her head. “That means I’m gonna have to learn how to cook – do you think Student Housing has fire insurance?”

Joel wants to roll his eyes, but it’s definitely his fault – after all, he can barely fry an egg without setting off the fire alarm. Their freezer has always been well-stocked with TV dinners and tater tots. So instead, he just shrugs.

“So what’s this art thing tonight?” He moves on to the salad on his plate, decidedly much safer.

“I don’t really know – my roommate asked me to go, she has some pieces in it, I guess.”

He nods. “And your professor – that was nice ‘a you to invite her.”

Sarah nods, smiles. “Yeah – you like her, right? I mean, you’re sure you’re cool with me asking her to come?” She asks, a mouthful of lettuce.

“‘Course,” he says, attempting to keep his voice level, nonchalant.

“I know you’re not really one for meeting new people,” she teases.

He mock-glares at her. It quickly softens into a smile. “Nah – she seems cool.” It’s an understatement, but Sarah doesn’t need to know that.

She doesn’t need to know that her dad is attracted to her professor.

Joel thinks that he might not have been so great at hiding it, though, when a few hours later, in the middle of watching an unarguably bad student production of Macbeth, Sarah turns to him and whispers that she’s not feeling well.

“Hm, is that right?,” he whispers back, unconvinced.

“Yeah, must’ve been the food.”

“We ate the same thing, Sarah.”

There’s a shout on stage. The actor’s voice cracks.

“Well I dunno,” she continues, “My stomach just doesn’t feel good.”

“Yeah, and what about that thing with your professor?”

He can see her smirk even in the dim lighting.

“Shit, you’re right. And I don’t have her phone number, so it’s not like I can text her...”

She groans. Joel thinks she should be on that stage right now.

“We can’t just ghost her.” Joel has no idea what that means. He doesn’t bother asking.

“Sarah-” he starts.

“Please. She’s such a nice lady, she doesn’t deserve to be stood up.”

He could say no. It’s not like he knows you, owes you anything. But in truth, Joel does want to see you again. And he’s well aware that Sarah might be trying to set the two of you up – ever-perceptive and hell-bent on her dad being happy – but he tries not to think about how embarrassing that feels, his daughter playing matchmaker for him. Because he wants to spend more time with you, get to know more about you, if you’ll let him.

He’s barred himself from forming any kind of real relationship with a woman since Sarah’s mother left. Not because she’d broken his heart, but because he’d needed all of his energy to go to Sarah. As a single father, he had always feared that he wouldn’t be enough for his daughter – wouldn’t give enough – that growing up in a broken home would leave her half of a person. That fear had fueled him to be the best dad possible – to work overtime so that he could provide for them, to never miss one of her soccer games or dance recitals. And so, he had never even considered dating, not seriously, anyway. It would take attention away from Sarah, and he couldn’t risk that.

He’s found it difficult to shake this principle, now that Sarah has grown up. He often grapples with the fact that Sarah doesn’t need him as much anymore – that she’s her own person living her own life. He knows he could date now, could meet someone new, open his heart to them. But he’s so used to fighting that human need for companionship, that it feels almost unnatural to let his guard down.

But now there’s you – your megawatt smile and your impressive intelligence and your care for his daughter – and suddenly he’s forgotten his own rules.

“Okay; I’ll go.” It comes out entirely too enthusiastic.

He can practically feel Sarah’s accomplished, shit-eating grin burning into the side of his head.

You leave campus around four pm, once the last of the Open House participants have gone.

You take a shower when you get home. Then you order sushi – stuff rolls of yellowfin and salmon into your mouth as you sit at the dining table still wrapped up in your towel, trying your best not to spill soy sauce on the half-graded essays that litter the tabletop. When you’re done, you retreat to your closet, treading on damp feet across the waxy hardwood floor.

And you definitely don’t think about Joel – not when you debate what to wear to the art exhibition, not when your fingers accidentally graze one of your nipples as you put your bra on, not when you get distracted while pulling your panties on by the pool of wetness that has formed between your thighs.

You definitely don’t think about him – because he’s Sarah’s dad, and that would be wrong.

So it’s accidental when his name falls from your mouth, fingers pressed against your clit, visions of large, calloused hands flashing behind your closed eyelids.

You cover your mouth with the curve of your palm to prevent it from slipping out again. Sink back into the mattress.

Then you press your fingers down harder.

Joel feels like a first-year student, wandering aimlessly across campus in search of the art center. Sarah’s directions had been, well, brief. She’d insisted he’d be able to find it no problem. Now though, in the limited light of dusk, all the structures look the same, bleeding together like watercolors against the evening sky.

He does find it, eventually, a three-story brick building tucked between the library and what looks to be a dormitory. Bright, artificial light seeps through the windows that line the bottom floor. The double doors at the front are propped open, people slipping in and out of them as he approaches.

He looks for you outside, searching for a familiar head of hair, the brown cardigan you’d been wearing earlier. When he doesn’t see you, he reluctantly makes his way up the stairs and into the building.

He spots you almost immediately affixed in front of a painting, studying it intently.

You’re wearing a different outfit than the one you had on this afternoon – a merlot-colored slip dress and a cropped leather jacket. He struggles to ignore the way the satin clings to you, the curves of your body excruciatingly accentuated. He has to remind himself that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, shouldn't expect you to stick around for long once he lets you know Sarah isn’t coming. You’ll probably make an excuse to leave shortly after, and he’ll be back on Sarah’s couch within the hour.

After all, why would you stick around just to talk to him?

You don’t see him when he sidles up next to you. He clears his throat and you startle.

“Sorry,” he brings a hand to the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to spook ya.”

You take a step back to face him and put a hand to your chest, your breath beginning to even. His eyes wander, for a moment, to where your fingers rest against your collarbone.

“Shit – it’s okay. Where’s Sarah?”

“She wasn’t feeling well, but she said I should still come. Is that – uh – is that okay?” He’s suddenly worried that this was dumb, that he shouldn’t have come, should’ve just let Sarah explain to you on Monday.

But your features soften then, a small smile forming between rosy cheeks.

“Joel, it’s fine; I appreciate you not ditching me.”

“‘Course,” he manages. He’s waiting for you to say something else – that you need to leave. But you don’t, and you both stand enveloped in the pregnant pause that lingers, bright overhead lighting and nerves giving Joel the start of a migraine he’ll have to ignore for the rest of the night.

He clears his throat. Turns to the painting in front of you. “So what’s this one, then?”

The painting in question is a mish-mash of shapes and colors. Joel can’t distinguish any one thing on the canvas. It’s all just a lot of…nothing. He knows it’s not for him when he thinks a preschooler with finger paints could’ve done this.

You bring your hand up to cradle your jaw, brows furrowed in contemplation. It looks like you’ll offer an actual, intellectual interpretation. So Joel isn’t prepared when instead, you say:

“Looks like a bad trip.”

A laugh bubbles out of him, the corners of his eyes creasing.

“Sorry,” you say, between giggles. “That was stupid.”

“No,” he says, swiping a hand over his jaw, trying to physically rub the embarrassing smile off his face. “You’re funny.”

He means it. He’s not sure how it’s possible that you’re funny, when you’re also so smart and interesting and gorgeous. It’s almost unfair. He thinks, fleetingly, that you’re way out of his league – a boring, old man like him.

You continue to the next piece, Joel following closely behind. It looks like it must be by the same artist. The same variation of shapes fill the canvas, just in different colors.

“Alright Cowboy, what’s your take on this one?”

Joel studies it for a moment – tries to find something he can pull out. Something tangible. Something funny, even.

He comes up empty.

“‘ts interesting f’sure. Lots of…colors,” he tries. He realizes how ridiculous he sounds. Laughs. “Shit…art ain’t really my thing,” he admits, arm stretched behind his head.

“So what is your thing?” Your voice is tinged with something – Joel tries his hardest not to let himself believe that it’s flirtation.

Your eyes are still fixed on the canvas in front of you. And Joel is thankful, because he thinks if you looked at him, let those eyes meet his, he’d break – tell you that right now, you’re his thing.

He doesn’t get a chance to answer either way, though, because he’s interrupted by a man’s voice behind the two of you.

“Wow. Didn’t expect to see you here!”

You whip around to face him. Joel turns too. The man is taller than you, but shorter than him. He’s wearing round, wire-frame glasses that sit like a suggestion on his nose, and a full suit, with a tie that has some god-awful, ugly pattern all over it. It looks like the art here, Joel thinks.

Joel’s eyes flit back to you, and he watches as your hackles go up. You back up, bumping into the canvas behind you. You curse under your breath.

“Quentin. Hey.”

“Glad you could make it,” the man, Quentin, says. He swirls a cup of what appears to be red wine in one hand. He leans in closer, brings the other hand up at the side of his mouth to conceal his words. “I know this isn’t really your scene.”

You shift uncomfortably. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m uh, venturing out, I guess. Trying new things.”

He laughs. It’s an asshole laugh, Joel notes. Everything about this guy screams asshole.

“About time!” The asshole puts a hand on your shoulder. You flinch. Joel’s hands instinctively bunch into fists at his side.

“So proud of you,” Quentin says. “Finally letting yourself be a little cultured.”

This guy can’t be serious.

You scoff. Grab his hand and flick it off your shoulder. He looks wounded. Good, Joel thinks.

“Yeah, because traveling the world has left me so very uncultured, Quentin.”

“Hey,” he puts his hands up. “Don’t take offense, baby. I know your little field trips are important, too.”

It’s the last straw.

In one movement, you’re pushing off the wall, shoving past Quentin, and making your way to the exit. Joel doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at the asshole, just follows after you out the door.

It’s gotten colder in the short time he’d been inside, he notices. A gust of wind nips at the exposed skin on his hands. He stuffs them haphazardly in the pockets of his jacket.

He finds you perched on the front steps, arms wrapped around your body protectively. He takes a few cautious strides forward. When you look up at him, you’re visibly distraught.

You groan as he sits down next to you. “Sorry. That was embarrassing.”

Joel wants to touch you, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but he knows he probably shouldn’t – not right now.

“‘ts not embarrassin’,” he says, instead. His warm breath materializes in the cold air. “Not for you, anyway. That guy was clearly an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That was my ex-boyfriend.” You’re both quiet, then. The two of you sit there, side by side on the stairs, in comfortable silence. A few minutes pass. Joel notices you chewing on your bottom lip, like you’re considering something. When you speak again, your voice wavers.

“Would you want to go for a drink or something? It’s just, I really don’t want to be here anymore.”

For a moment, he can’t believe what he’s hearing – you’re asking him out? He takes a second to respond. You start to backtrack. “It’s okay if you don’t wan-”

“Hey,” he stops you. Makes sure you’re looking at him.

“I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Great.” Your hand drops to your side, brushing against his. He expects you to move it. He’s thankful when you don’t.

“I know a place–” you continue – “one that won’t be full of drunk college kids.”

“Great,” Joel parrots you. He stands, extends a hand to help you up. You take it, letting your palm rest against his for a moment longer than necessary when you’re upright.

“Cool,” you say, clearing your throat. You pull up the Uber app on your phone. Joel watches you book a driver. Then you turn back to him with a smile. It’s different from the one he’s seen before. It’s smaller, shyer.

“Larry will be here in 4 minutes,” you say.

The bar is a twenty minutes’ drive from campus – fifteen with Larry’s lead foot.

It’s more of a lounge than a bar, really – leather armchairs accompanied by low cocktail tables arranged throughout the single large, open room. A brick fireplace sits on the back wall, currently roaring with warm orange flames.

On either side of the fireplace are floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with vintage books, their illegible titles etched in gold along weathered spines. You can imagine that their pages are yellowed and dusty, and it’s so tempting to swipe one off the shelf to see, to smell.

The light in here is warm, a stark contrast from the bright white of the art gallery. It’s comforting, and you feel your body immediately relax when you walk through the entrance next to Joel.

The bar at the front is busy (it is Saturday night, after all), so you and Joel stand at the back of the crowd for a few moments, waiting for the people in front of you to get their drinks. When a group of men start forcing their way through right next to you, Joel immediately puts a large hand on your shoulder, turning your body towards his. He’s just being chivalrous, making sure you don’t get shoved, but it still sends a shockwave up your spine.

When a spot clears in front of the bar, Joel steps forward, bringing you with him. He orders a whiskey neat, then turns to you, asking what you want.

It’s difficult to think with his hand still on you, so you go with the first words that come to mind.

“Same as you.”

He stares at you for a moment, amused, like he can see right through you and the fact that you’ve never had whiskey in your life. But you hold his gaze, challenging him with your eyes, and he drops it. “Make that two,” he tells the bartender.

Once you have your drinks, Joel slaps a few bills down on the bar. You can tell he won’t let you do so much as offer to pay him back, so you don’t. You lead him through the lounge to a couple of chairs tucked away in the back corner, partially hidden behind an antique wooden partition – far enough from the main seating area, but still close enough to the fireplace that you can feel its warmth.

This is where you always sit when you come, usually with coworkers, once or twice with him. Quentin had been pretty critical of this place, like he is with everything. He’d complained that the wine selection could be larger – that they could have more French options. When you’d explained that most of their wines come from local vineyards, he’d just rolled his eyes.

You’re still reeling a bit from your interaction with him at the gallery, even as you settle into soft leather and feel a burst of warmth against your cheek. He was such an asshole, you think, taking a cautious sip of whiskey. You’re immediately repulsed by the taste of it, and you do a poor job of hiding the grimace that automatically spreads across your face in the crook of your arm.

Joe laughs across from you. “Not your thing? I can go grab ya somethin’ else,” he offers.

“No,” you insist, “this is fine. Just need to get used to it.” It’s a lie – you both know it – but he doesn’t push it.

Instead he leans back, swirls his own glass – which looks comically tiny in his grip – and lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“So, your ex is a real dick, huh?”

“You can say that again,” you mumble.

He quirks a brow at you. “Why’d you even date him?”

It’s a fair question. Why had you dated him? Loneliness, maybe? You’d like to blame it on that, but it’s not the truth – not entirely. Quentin had been kind, at first. He had seemed so interested in you and where you came from and what you were passionate about. He was a relatively good boyfriend, all things considered – until he’d grown tired of hiding who he really was.

You’d gotten a substantial pay raise at the end of your second year at the university. When you’d told Quentin, he’d gone quiet – practically gave you the silent treatment for days on end. When you’d finally worn him down, gotten him to talk, the most he could utter was that he was happy for you; he just wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gotten a raise like that yet.

It’s not like you were in competition – you worked for two entirely different departments, in different colleges. But it had been a constant losing battle nevertheless, to get him to stop comparing your successes. And when he’d found out you actually made more money than him – that had pretty much been the nail in the coffin.

You tell Joel all of this. You’re not sure why you do – it’s not like you can blame the alcohol after one half-sip of whiskey. You feel comfortable with him though, here, like this. He’s a good listener, too, attentively nodding every so often as you ramble.

When you’re done, he’s quiet. He stares at his drink, pursing his lips.

After a beat, he looks up at you.

“You deserve better than that, darlin’.”

You almost crumble under his gaze. His eyes are at least two shades darker than they had been a moment ago – and there’s something lingering behind them that you can’t quite place. Whatever it is has you feeling weak.

“You barely know me,” you joke.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I know enough, though. Could do much better than him, I reckon.”

You want to ask him if he has anyone in mind, if he would be better for you, but you can’t – not yet – not this sober. You take another sip of your drink, breathing through your nose as it burns its way down your throat.

You talk for hours. He asks about your family; you tell him how you moved out here two years ago on your own after you finished your doctorate program. He’s impressed by that, says you’re brave. You tell him you’ve never felt very brave.

It’s all so easy, talking to Joel in the dimly-lit bar you’ve been to so many times before. Sipping on whiskey as if you actually enjoy it. It’s never felt so much like home — not the bar, not this town. The thought is dizzying.

He asks about Sarah, too, how she’s doing in school. He insists that she doesn’t tell him much, and if she does, it’s about you and how great your classes are.

“I had never even heard of anthropology before she decided to study it,” he admits. “But I’m glad she did. It’s her thing, f’sure.”

You smile, knowingly. “Yeah, it is. She’s a great kid, Joel. You raised her well.”

He shakes his head humbly, but you don’t relent. You want him to hear this, really hear this. Because you get the feeling he hasn’t been told enough.

“She’s not just smart, Joel. She’s good. She’s a good person. That’s kind of rare nowadays — especially among her generation.”

Joel chuckles, his head hanging between his shoulders.

“I mean, shit,” you continue, “she brings me pancakes from the diner just off campus whenever she knows I’m stuck in my office working late. My other students barely even ask how I’m doing most days.”

Joel hums in amusement. His eyes are locked on a wrinkle in the leather of the arm of his chair.

“Joel,” you say, pointedly. You wait for him to look at you. When he does, his gaze is uncertain. “She’s a good person —“ you repeat — “and that’s because you raised her to be.”

“‘ts just southern hospitality, is all,” he mumbles.

“No Joel – it’s you.”

He stares for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing. His jaw twitches. And then he breaks, finally, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Thank you.”

His voice is so soft suddenly. It throws you off. It also turns you on – like, a lot, the gravellyness of it scratching your brain and your loins. You dig your nails into leather in an attempt to steady your quickening heart rate.

“No problem,” you mutter sheepishly.

Suddenly, there’s a buzz on the table – Joel’s phone. He picks it up, squinting at the bright screen.

“Sarah?,” you ask.

“Nah, ‘ts just my brother, Tommy.”

He types out a quick response and re-locks the phone, placing it back down on the table.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, jus’ asking if I think hookin’ up with a client is a bad idea,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

You don’t know Tommy, but you like him already – seems like a fun guy. And clearly values his brother’s opinions. It’s telling, you think.

“That’s right – you’re a contractor. You and your brother work together?”

“Yeah, we got our own business back home.”

“And you like it?,” you ask.

“Used to,” he laughs, “when I was more limber.”

You laugh too. You can feel the heat of slight intoxication, and something else, in your chest, your inhibitions dissolving in your bloodstream. And suddenly that horrible idea you’d had earlier to flirt with Joel doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

“Still look plenty limber to me, Mr. Miller.” The words leave you before you have the chance to stop them.

Joel’s hands tense on either arm of his chair. Despite your buzz, you still have half a mind to worry that you’ve fucked up, that there’s a chance you’ve misread this whole thing.

But then he sinks back in the chair, the leather groaning under him. He rakes his dark eyes over you. And the way he’s looking at you is unmistakable. He looks hungry. You feel like your entire body has been set ablaze.

Without thinking, you stand up, take a couple of steps toward him. Scan the lounge. Most of the remaining patrons are huddled by the bar, talking boisterously among themselves. Tucked in your little corner, the two of you might as well be in a different zip code.

“Whatcha doin’, darlin’?” Joel smirks up at you as you stand unmoving in front of him. He takes one of your hands in his and traces gentle, reassuring shapes along the back of it with his index finger.

Without a word, you hike your dress up to your thighs and straddle him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his legs. He hums approvingly as you sink onto his lap and cup his face in your hands. He places his own on your lower back, just above your ass. “This okay?,” you ask. It comes out breathy and wrecked.

“C’mere,” he says in that syrupy drawl, and then one of his hands is on the back of your head, pushing you gently against him, your lips slotting to his.

It’s messy and all-encompassing. He kisses you with a fervency that confirms this hasn’t all been in your head –that he’s been wanting this too.

The voices of bar-goers and the clinking of glassware are suddenly muted. All you can focus on is Joel — the way he tastes like whiskey and cinnamon gum, the way one of his large hands comes to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers tangled in the hair there while the other remains on your back, steadying you. The way he licks into your mouth after a few seconds with a groan, causing you to reflexively bare down on his lap.

You feel his cock swell underneath you and you grind against it, laughing low and quiet against his lips when his entire body tenses. He pulls back, blinking up at you with glazed-over eyes. Joel, all six feet of him, looks wrecked.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants. He looks down at where you’re hovering over his now fully-hard cock. “Gotta stop. Otherwise you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like a damn teenager.”

You pout at him, lifting your lower half off of his. You don’t stand up, though – not immediately, anyway. Instead, you take his head back in both of your hands. He lets you, blinking up at you wordlessly.

You’d known when you’d first seen him earlier today that he was handsome, but right now, his face so close to yours – you’re seeing all of the little details – the scar indented in his forehead, just above his right eyebrow; the flush that stains his cheeks, which you can guess is partly from the alcohol, but maybe also from you. He’s biblically gorgeous, which makes it difficult to pry yourself off of him.

You do though, after a minute, smoothing down your dress once you’re back on two feet. You feel a bit breathless, suddenly. And exhausted.

What time is it?

You retrieve your phone from where it’s been lodged in the cushion of your chair.

You tap on the screen, waking it up.

12:47?! When had it gotten so late?

Joel stands, adjusting himself in his pants. You can’t help but giggle at him — big, tough man looking positively ruined after just a few minutes of being under you. You feel pretty accomplished. He rolls his eyes at you.

“Shut up — just get us an Uber.” You don’t miss the smile that sprouts between his cheeks when he thinks you aren’t looking.

You wait outside for your driver — John M.

The cold Vermont air is sobering. You feel almost normal by the time the car pulls up, save for the dull, throbbing ache between your legs. You will it away as you crouch into the back of the silver Nissan behind Joel. The sound of the radio playing soft rock hits is a poor distraction on the drive home.

“Wanna come in?,” you ask Joel when the car comes to a halt in front of your building. You watch him ponder it, eyes glued to the roof of the sedan. But ultimately, he shakes his head. “Can’t,” he says. “Gotta check on Sarah.”

You nod, try to hide your disappointment. “Right.”

You open the door. Just as you’re about to get out, Joel stops you.

“Wait,” he says. “Can I see your phone?” You’re confused, but you hand it over. You watch as he pulls up your contacts and clicks the ‘plus’ button in the corner, an understanding smile pulling at your lips.

When he hands the phone back, his contact now in it, you grab his from off the seat next to him and do the same.

“I’ll text you,” he promises as you step out.

You turn back to him. “You better.”

He’s smiling when you shut the door.

You’re smiling when the car pulls away.

It’s only when you’re tucked into bed, phone charging securely on the nightstand that the thought crosses your mind: you’re catching feelings for someone again.

And then you feel sick.

Joel wakes up the next morning feeling giddy. It’s like he’s a teenager all over again – waiting by the phone for a pretty girl to call him back. Only this time, he’s waiting for a text.

He had messaged you almost as soon as he’d gotten back to Sarah’s apartment last night, asking if he could see you again before he goes back to Texas. He has no shame about it, he can’t – not when his entire mind and body are consumed by his overwhelming attraction to you.

He’d found it difficult to sleep last night, and not because the springs in Sarah’s cheap couch were digging into his already-damaged back. It was thoughts of you, and the borderline-painful erection they caused, that had kept him up.

Now, with the sun seeping through the living room windows directly into his eyes, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to be awake. He checks his phone immediately, and tries to ignore the way his heart sinks when he sees you haven’t responded yet. You’re probably still asleep, he tells himself.

He tosses his phone aimlessly back onto the couch and stands with a groan. His legs feel worse than his back, if that’s even possible.

Sarah still isn’t awake, so Joel meanders into her kitchen, in search of something to eat for breakfast. It’s pretty much what you would expect from a college student’s kitchen – bare bones. There are a few suspicious containers of leftovers in the fridge along with a Brita water pitcher and a package of cookie dough. In the freezer, several cartons of ice cream (all chocolate) and half a loaf of bread. And finally, in the cabinets, a few boxes of mac & cheese and an unopened jar of peanut butter.

Toast it is, then.

Sarah appears just as he’s raiding her drawers for a butter knife. “Morning,” she announces sleepily behind him.

“Hey, Kiddo,” he says, turning to face her. “Hungry?”

“Yeah. There’s a diner down the street. Thought we could get pancakes.” She yawns.

Joel grins. That must be the place you’d told him about – the one Sarah brings you leftovers from when you’re working late.

“You buyin’?,” he jokes.

“Only in exchange for the juicy deets from last night.” She pauses. “Okay, maybe not all the deets. There’s some things I don’t need to know – like why you got home so late.”

“Sarah,” Joel warns, but she’s undeterred, smiling like a Cheshire Cat with every one of her unbrushed teeth on display.

“Just get changed,” she says, and skips out of the room.

You’ve been staring at the text for twenty minutes now.

Had a lot of fun tonight. Can I see you again before I leave? Let me know if you’re free tomorrow (today I guess). - Joel

You should say yes – you want to say yes – so why can’t you get your fingers to move?

It’s a stupid question. You know why – it’s Quentin and your inability to shake the fear that someone else will hurt you like he did. If you keep Joel at arm’s length – continue to ignore his message – he can’t do that. You can just take last night for what it was – a fun time, a hookup – and stop this before it goes too far, before feelings get involved.

Because it never ends well, once they do.

You get out of bed without responding, but you leave the text open on your phone. You attempt to busy yourself with housework and grading. Again and again though, you find your fingers hovering over the screen, your mind wandering to the way Joel’s lips had felt on yours, the way the bulge in his jeans had felt against your clothed heat, the sound of his southern drawl when he’d called you darlin’.

Then you snap yourself out of it and place the phone face-down on the table.

This goes on for hours, a vicious cycle. You feel your resolve slipping more and more each time you pick the phone up.

The sun is high in the sky by the time you break, light bathing your kitchen and revealing all of the spots you’d missed when you’d dusted earlier. Your phone is heavy in the palm of your hand like a bomb – like if you don’t hit send right now, you’ll lose the motivation and it’ll detonate, taking any chance of you seeing Joel tonight and not self-sabotaging with it.

You close your eyes when you press the button and toss your phone somewhere across the room.

Well – you think – no going back now.

Joel is sitting on cold, hard bleachers at the Homecoming football game when he sees you’ve responded, the shouts of people in the stands around him not enough to avert his attention.

Hey, yeah, that would be great! Do you want to come to my apartment later? I have a bottle of wine we can crack into if you’d like. And I can order pizza.

The announcer is saying something about player #72 over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t tune in.

Joel types his reply and sends it:

Sounds perfect. I’ll come over around 7?

Sarah groans next to him. “You wanted to come to this game, dad. If you’re bored already, can we leave?”

His eyes shoot up. “No, uh – sorry. Just had to answer one text.”

Sarah narrows her eyes at him. They dart to the phone just as another message rolls in, your name flashing across the screen before Joel can hide it.

“Is that my professor?”

Joel doesn’t answer. His silence confirms enough.

“I knew you guys hit it off last night! See, dad, even though you didn’t wanna tell me at breakfast, I still found out. I always find out. Because Sarah knows all.” She attempts a maniacal, Disney villain-esque laugh.

Joel raises an eyebrow at her.

“You done?”

“So you going out again later? Do I need to make your bed on the couch, or should I just not bother?”

He ignores her. Someone gets a touchdown and half the crowd goes wild. He doesn’t bother to check what team scored.

He opens your latest message, instead.

Perfect. See you then, Cowboy ;)

His breath hitches at the nickname, at the thought of you calling him that again in person. The thought of kissing you again, if you’ll let him.

He doesn’t catch who wins the game.

Joel arrives at your apartment at seven o’clock on the dot.

Punctual, you note.

He’s holding a bottle of wine, gripping the neck with long, calloused fingers.

“Know you said you had some already,” he says as he steps over the threshold. “Just didn’t wanna come empty handed.”

The sentiment takes you aback. You’re not exactly used to dates bringing you gifts, especially ones this expensive, if the minimalist yet fancy label is any indicator.

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, taking the bottle from him. You can’t quite make out the name – something foreign, etched in cursive.

“‘ts Italian, I think,” he mumbles, as if he can read your mind.

Your eyes shift from the bottle to Joel, standing in front of you in his Carhartt jacket, brows furrowed, gaze trained on the floor at his feet.

“Thank you,” you say more genuinely this time.

Joel smiles appreciatively. You motion to the space behind you.

“Come in.”

You lead Joel to the kitchen, just off the entranceway, and place the bottle down on the counter, gently. You tuck yourself in the corner, leaning back to rest your arms on cool granite. Joel mirrors you against the adjacent island.

“How’s Sarah?” you ask. “Feeling any better?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing at his scruff. “She was askin’ about you. Saw me textin’ you.”

“Yeah – guess you couldn’t exactly hide this from her, staying at her apartment and all.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Guess not.”

You pop open the bottle of wine. Pour glasses for both of you. Then you order pizza: one cheese, one sausage and pepper. The person on the other end of the line tells you it’ll be thirty to forty minutes.

“Gonna be a bit of a wait,” you tell Joel when you hang up. “Busy night, I guess.”

He nods, takes a sip of wine, and then places the glass down, his eyes unmoving from yours.

You realize then that he’d been staring at you the entire time you were on the phone. The way he’s looking at you – gaze the same as the one from the bar last night when you’d straddled him – has you feeling suddenly nervous.

“What?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks.

Oh.

You breathe out a laugh. It’s not funny – really, the opposite – but you hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. “Joel-” you’re going to say yes – fuck yes – but he interrupts you.

“Been dyin’ to since last night.” He’s so open, so earnest. It’s fucking hot.

“Joel,” you say again, louder this time. He freezes. His eyes widen, like he’s anticipating your answer.

“Please.”

It’s all he needs to hear. In an instant, he crosses the distance between you. He places his hands on the counter behind you, framing your body with his. You peer up at him and, fuck – he looks ravenous.

He kisses you – hard. His teeth crash against yours. It’s messy and hurried, but you don’t care – you want him closer, need him closer.

Your head swims with memories of the feeling of his bulge against your clothed core. The need to feel it again is all-consuming. You’re greedy for it. And with the time constraint, you don’t want to wait another second.

You pull back abruptly. Joel furrows his eyebrows where he looms over you, concerned.

“Joel,” you pant, “I need you.”

It takes him a second to compute what you’re asking. And then he’s nodding furiously.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay, darlin’.”

You pull him back in with a hand at the back of his neck, digging your nails into the skin there. His tongue slips into your mouth with a groan. You’re minutely aware of him shrugging his jacket off, hearing the light thump it makes when it hits the linoleum. And then his hands are on you, wandering up and down your body like he needs to feel every inch of you. He tugs at the base of your t-shirt impatiently.

“Off,” he mumbles against your lips. You pull back only to do as he’s asked, and then you’re right back on him, sucking a bruise into the skin below his ear, your body claiming him subconsciously. His head falls back momentarily, revealing his bobbing throat. You scrape your teeth lightly along the skin there, eliciting a groan from Joel.

Your mouth continues exploring his neck as his fingers find the clasps of your bra, unhooking them quickly and tossing it aside. You don’t see where. You don’t really care – you’ll find it later.

He grabs your now-naked sides and steps back, pulling you with him. Then he turns you and pushes you back against the island.

He slaps the countertop behind you. “Up,” he breathes against your neck. You don’t argue. You don’t want to argue. You’re so used to being the one in charge, the one in control — right now you’re happy to bend to Joel’s will.

You grip the edge of the island with both hands and hoist yourself up so that you’re perched there, legs dangling.

Joel’s fingers immediately go to the button of your jeans, popping it open before moving to tug the zipper down. And then he’s helping you lift your hips so that he can pull them down and off. He adds them to the pile at his feet.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear splayed out on your kitchen counter in front of him. You feel like you should be self conscious, maybe even embarrassed by your depravity. But you can’t find it in you to be either, not when Joel is slotted between your legs, his dark eyes scanning over you hungrily. Showing you he needs you just as bad as you need him.

He rubs his hands over your thighs and up the sides of your body, mapping your curves with great concentration. “God damn,” he whispers, what seems to be, mostly to himself. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You whine pathetically. Your patience is growing thin.

He smirks up at you, likely seeing in your face how desperate you are for him right now.

“‘ts okay baby, I got you,” he coos, suddenly sinking to his knees in front of you. His hands move closer to your clothed pussy, but not quite there, tracing light circles along your inner thighs. Then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, sending your hips bucking off the counter, chasing him.

The coarse hair of his mustache scratches the skin surrounding where he sucks and bites. You don’t care. You just want to feel it lower, against your dripping folds.

“Please,” you breathe, shakily. Through hooded eyes, you catch Joel’s satisfied grin. You realize then that he loves this — making you beg for it, for him. It’s a dizzying contradiction to the way he was practically begging to kiss you just moments ago.

He presses a chaste kiss against your skin, his lips infuriatingly close to where you need them most.

“Whatcha need, darlin’?” he purrs. The vibration of his voice just next to your core has you spiraling.

“Need your mouth,” you cry. “Please.”

“Where?” He nips at you, half an inch closer to your swollen clit. You can feel his breath. Your cunt reactively clenches around nothing.

“On my pussy, Joel” you plead.

He pulls away from you completely, looks up at you with devilish eyes.

“Good girl.”

He dips one finger into the side of your underwear, pulling them aside to reveal your glistening core. “Damn baby, you’re soaked,” he drawls. You catch the hint of pride that tinges his voice.

“Please,” you beg again, your voice wanton and broken.

Joel gently pets your throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb. The pressure he applies is feather-light, barely there. But still, after all the teasing, you can’t help the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes you.

He chuckles darkly. “Alright sweetheart, I know – enough teasin’.”

He hooks both index fingers in the top of your panties, pulling them down and off in one swift movement. And then his tongue is on you, exactly where you need it.

He holds you open with fingers digging deliciously into the meat of your thighs as he licks long, languid stripes from your leaking cunt up to your clit, over and over again until you’re a whimpering mess underneath him. You struggle to hold your weight up on your elbows, watching him as he works you with his mouth.

He’s so good at this – too good at this. You tell him as much, between broken moans.

“Sofuckinggood Joel – holy shit.”

You swear you can feel him smirk against your heat.

He buries his face into your cunt then, nose pressed against your clit, and swivels his head back and forth, coating his mustache and beard in your arousal. He groans against you, like this is getting him off just as much as you. It’s all so obscene, so filthy.

You’ve never had a man go down on you like this – like they actually enjoy it. But then again, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise, not when it’s Joel. You’ve quickly come to learn that he’s attentive in every sense of the word. Knows just what you want, what you need – evident by the way his lips latch back onto your clit when you keen for him.

He keeps his attention there, switching between suckling on it – which is enough to make you see stars on its own – and lapping at it with short, shallow flicks of his tongue. He experiments with different angles, licking at different spots on the bundle of nerves until he finds the one that makes you cry out, your babbles of there Joel, yes, right fucking there, don’t stop, letting him know exactly where to focus.

You feel yourself quickly hurtling toward the edge. You just need a little bit more to get you there.

“Fingers,” you pant. “Need your fingers in me.”

Two of his fingers are at your entrance before you can even blink. You’re so wet that he slides them in easily, curling them against your walls. He expertly finds your G-spot, massaging it as his tongue continues to lap at your clit.

You gasp at the combination. It’s so good – so much. “Oh my god Joel, I’m so close,” you cry.

He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even look at you. His eyes are closed in concentration, fingers and tongue unrelenting. He’s lost in your pussy. You can tell he’s not going to come up for air until he’s given you an orgasm.

And it doesn’t take much longer – one, two, three more strokes of his fingers and you’re cumming hard.

Your vision blurs and your ears ring in your head. You’re vaguely aware that Joel is pinning one of your thighs down with his free hand to hold you in place as you thrash against the countertop.

He fucks you through it, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continues to curl them against that spot, your clit throbbing against his tongue.

It is – without a doubt – the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.

He doesn’t stop when you’ve come down, eager to milk every last drop from your weeping cunt. The overstimulation is too much. Your grip tightens in his hair, weakly attempting to pull him off of you as you whimper nonsense above him. You manage to exhale his name, or something close to it, and he finally lifts his face.

His eyes meet yours, dark and hooded. He looks absolutely pussydrunk.

The entire lower half of his face is soaked with your slick. His shiny, pink lips pepper kisses along your inner thighs, smoothing over the spots he’d marked with his teeth just minutes ago. You feel so sensitive – you shiver under his touch.

His smile curves into your skin. He leaves one last light peck and stands up, grunting at the ache in his knees. You laugh, but you can tell by the darkness still looming in his gaze that he’s not done with you yet.

He helps you off the counter, steadying you with hands gripping your sides as you find your footing. Your legs feel like Jell-O, a welcomed side-effect of the earth-shattering orgasm you’ve just had. You lead Joel to your bedroom, leaving your clothes scattered across the kitchen floor.

He backs you toward the bed as soon as you’re in your room, lips latched to the side of your neck. The backs of your legs hit the mattress, and then he’s lowering both of your bodies onto it, cradling your head in his hand as you settle underneath him.

He sits back on his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head to reveal his broad, tan torso. You’re pretty sure you’re salivating, lost in the slope of his shoulders and the wide expanse of his chest. Your eyes trail lower as he undoes his belt, followed by the button of his jeans. He shimmies them off along with his boxers, his large cock springing free, tip shiny with pre-cum, and hovers back over your eager body.

He dips down and presses his lips to yours, prying your mouth open with his tongue. He’s remarkably patient for how hard he is, his erection pressing into your thigh as he kisses you, slow and wet.

One of his hands grips your jaw, the other pressed firmly against the mattress next to you. Minutes pass like that, you and Joel losing yourselves in each other. Then you remember that you don’t have all the time in the world – that your delivery driver could get here any minute. In truth, you’re not even fucking hungry anymore – not for pizza, anyway.

You snake your hand up to the back of Joel’s head, pulling at his roots lightly. “Joel,” you breathe when he lifts off of you, “please fuck me.”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice.

“How do you want it, baby?” he purrs in your ear, his warm breath skating over your skin. “How do you like it?”

You breathe out a moan. No man has ever asked you how you like it. They usually just give you a few sloppy, ill-timed thrusts, whatever they can muster before cumming and leaving you unsatisfied.

But Joel isn’t just any man.

“Hard,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

He growls, low and dark. “‘ts right, sweetheart.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, rutting against your folds a few times to gather some of your wetness with the tip of his cock.

Then he sinks into you, slowly, stretching your walls as he notches further and further in. There’s a sweet, stinging pain, one you hope, fleetingly, that you’ll be able to feel tomorrow – like a keepsake from him.

You sigh when he reaches the hilt, his tip nudging your cervix. He stills, letting you get used to his girth and you have to dig your nails into his back to keep from writhing under him. You don’t mind if it hurts – you just need him to move.

“Please,” you whine, unable to stop your hips from bucking any longer. “I can take it, Joel.”

“Know you can, baby,” he coos, beginning to rock slowly inside of you. The pleasure is immediate, washing over your body like a warm wave.

He picks up the pace when he’s sure it feels good for you, dragging his cock halfway out of you and thrusting back in, over and over again.

He grabs both of your legs, bending them so that you’re spread wide open for him, and grips the backs of your knees tightly as he slams into you. He can get so much deeper like this, his cock hitting a spot you didn’t even know you had. You let out a labored moan, fingers anchored into his delts.

“Talk to me darlin — tell me how it feels,” he pants.

“So – fuck, Joel – so fucking good.”

Joel drops his mouth to your shoulder, nips at the skin there.

His voice is in your ear, a low snarl.

“‘Better than that fuckin ex, I bet.”

You’d be annoyed by his cockiness – if he wasn’t so right.

But he is, and so you parrot, “So much better.” And then, because it’s the truth, you add, “the best.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hips stuttering at your words. “Can’t say that angel, you’ll make me cum.”

He pulls out and slams back into you again, setting a new, devastating pace. He fills you up just to leave you empty, over and over again. You’re a babbling mess underneath him, couldn’t string two more words together if you tried. Luckily, Joel is happy to take over and do the talking.

“So fuckin’ pretty, babygirl. Make the most gorgeous noises, too.”

You’re so fucking close, you can only whimper in response. You feel your walls tighten around him.

He presses your foreheads together, his sweaty curls sticking to your skin. His eyes bore into yours.

“C’mon baby, show me – show me how pretty ya are when ya cum on this cock.”

He brings one hand down to your clit, rubbing sloppy circles over it as he continues spearing into you. You hike your newly-freed leg up over his lower back. A white heat licks at your spine. You barely have time to tell Joel you’re about to cum, your warning coming out a single cry of his name. He gets it, though, bringing you over the edge with his words.

“I got you, baby, I got you; you can let go.”

Your orgasm barrels through you, from the tips of your toes all the way up to your ears. Joel doesn’t let up his ministrations, talking you through it as you writhe under him.

“Thaaaats it. Good – ahh – good fuckin’ girl.”

The only word you can think of in your state of euphoria is his name, chants of Joel, Joel, Joel spilling from the back of your throat as you cum.

You’re squeezing his cock through your aftershocks, and you can tell he’s close by the way his thrusts become more and more uneven.

“Fuck – where do you want it?” he braces both palms against the mattress on either side of you.

“Inside – please, Joel,” you beg. “I’m on the pill.”

He curses in ecstasy, cumming seconds later with a series of low grunts. His hips stall as he spills inside of you. There’s so much of it – he’s nearly drowning your cervix, coating your walls with rope after rope of his spend.

He softens inside you, staying there for a long moment as you both come down from your highs. You’re sweaty, panting messes, and you can’t help but giggle at how spent you both sound.

“Good?” he asks, nosing at the space just below your jaw. It’s so soft, so gentle. Your stomach does a backflip.

“Yeah,” you say. “Really fucking good.”

He pulls out of you with a low, guttural noise. You sigh at the loss of him, your hand coming down reflexively to feel where he’s leaking out of you. His fingers graze yours, and he bumps them aside to scoop up some of your combined fluids.

He brings his wet, sticky fingers to your lips, humming when you immediately take them into your mouth and suck them clean, eyes unmoving from his the entire time. You bat your eyelashes at him, innocently as he pulls them out with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” he curses, “gonna get me hard again, angel.”

He lays down next to you, letting his head thump against the pillow, and flexes his biceps behind his head. You kind of hope he does get hard again, despite the fact that your whole body feels like liquid. Like if you were to try and stand, your legs would most definitely give out on you. They’re trembling right now, where you have them half-bent, heels dug into the mattress.

Your phone rings, then, snapping you out of your post-coital bliss. Fuck – the pizza.

You answer, trying your best to hide the undeniably fucked-out lilt of your voice as you tell the delivery person that someone will be right down.

Joel laughs next to you when you hang up. “I’ll get it – hold on.”

He jumps out of bed and dresses quickly. You’re gawking at him as he does. You can’t help it. This man – probably the hottest man you’ve ever seen – was just inside of you. You want to pat yourself on the back. He notices you staring as he’s zipping up his jeans and shoots you a wink.

Joel deadbolts your front door and disappears into the hallway. He returns moments later, shutting and re-locking the door, and strides back into your bedroom with both boxes. You can see the steam coming off of them through the cardboard.

He sets them down by your feet.

“In bed?” you ask, sitting up against the headboard.

“Well I’m not sure you can walk to the kitchen, darlin’.”

Your face heats. He has a point. But he doesn’t have to be so smug about it. You roll your eyes at him and mumble something nonsensical under your breath as you tuck yourself in under your duvet.

“What was that?” He quirks an eyebrow.

Long gone is the shy Joel from earlier this evening. He knows your body now, knows how hard he makes you cum. He’s a whole different man post-coitus – bolder. It makes you damn near melt.

And maybe you’re different now too. Because you’re pretty sure you’d give up your vow of solitude for him, if he asked.

It’s crazy, probably. You’ve only known Joel for two days, after all. But you can’t help the way that he ( and his dick) makes you feel. Like maybe there’s a promise of something down the line, however serious that something may be. You just know you want to give yourself the opportunity to experience it, no matter how it ends.

“Nothing.” You break, grin pulling tight at the corners of your mouth. “Just get me a slice of cheese.”

He lets his gaze linger for a second longer, the faux-threat of it heating you from the inside out. And then he’s vanishing into the kitchen, returning with two plates and a stack of paper towels.

He dishes up slices for the both of you, climbing into bed next to you and handing over yours.

He settles in with a content sigh.

You both eat in happy silence for a few minutes, Joel giving you a satisfied nod when he finishes up his first slice. “‘ts good,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Right?” you retort. “It’s my favorite pizza around here.”

He hums in agreement. Pulls the box of sausage and pepper onto his lap to grab another slice.

“So,” you start, “you’re heading home tomorrow?” It’s more of a statement than a question. You know he is. But still, part of you wants Joel to say no, tell you that he’s canceled his flight, that he’s decided to stick around for a bit longer.

“Yeah,” he says. You feel your heart sink. You silently curse yourself for being delusional.

“Are you excited?” you try. “To be home?”

He doesn’t respond right away – his forehead wrinkling and his lips falling into a small frown. You watch as he thinks on it.

“Not really,” he admits after a few seconds.

“I know you’ll miss Sarah,” you say, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.

He peers down at you with a heavy sigh. “So much…” His voice trails off, like there’s something else he wants to add, but can’t.

The air feels thick, suddenly – heavy. You try your best to lighten it.

“Can’t stay a bit longer? Let Tommy run things for a while?”

“No,” he laughs. “Pretty sure he’ll just end up screwin’ every client we got.”

“And you’d end up screwing every one of Sarah’s professors,” you tease.

His mouth falls open in mock-offense. He grabs at both your sides, suddenly, letting the open box of pizza slide off of his lap and onto the bed. He tickles relentlessly just under your ribs, causing you to squeal and squirm under his grip.

“Joel,” you cry in between fits of laughter. “Stop!”

“I don’t think so, darlin’,” he tuts. He removes one of hands momentarily, to toss your plate aside, and then he’s hooking one of his legs over your body, straddling you. He looks so big like this, his body hanging over yours. You feel content – safe. His hands release you, finally, coming to settle on either side of your head on your pillow. You blink up at him. He’s staring down at you with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

“Nothin,” he mumbles. “‘ts just, I wouldn’t, ya know. Sleep with anyone else, I mean. If you didn’t want me to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You know that if you respond, it’ll come out way too eager. So you just blink at him again.

“Would you want to keep talkin’ after I get home?”

Yes, you want to say. Please. I don’t think I could go on without knowing if I’ll get to see you again – fuck you again.

You swallow. Collect yourself.

“Yeah. I would.”

You shimmy under Joel so that you can sit up. He straightens out, shifting his weight onto his knees. Takes both of your hands in his and pulls you up.

His eyes are still locked on yours. “I know we just met this weekend,” he says. “But I had a lot’a fun with you. I like you.”

Your cheeks warm. “I like you too, Joel.”

He smiles. “‘m glad.”

“Doesn’t have to be anythin’ serious,” he continues. Lets his fingers trace aimlessly along the inside of your arm. “We can jus’ see where it goes.”

“Yeah,” you nod, your heart squeezing in your chest. “See where it goes. I like that.”

And it’s the truth. You do. In the stillness, your legs tucked under the covers, Joel caressing you, you feel, for the first time in a long time, happy to not be alone. And you know you will be again, very soon, when Joel leaves to go back home. But then again, you won’t – not really. His voice will be there, a phone call away, and his body will be there, in the divot he’s left in your mattress. And you’ll have the promise of taking this slow, seeing where it goes.

You’ve never been so excited for the future.

end notes: tysm for reading! I may turn this into a series if people want more of these two <3 lmk hehe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel x reader #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #fiiyb

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aklaustaleteller · 1 month ago

Note

hey can you do one where the reader kind off changed klaus for the better he quit most of the killing shit a ultimately became a better person over all, and the news was all over that klaus mikealson had gone soft, so one of his (many) enemies decides to kidnap or hurt the reader as they think he had gone soft and he goes all hybrid on everyone to remind them of what he is capable off

Vontade

Y/n and Klaus had settled in the English Countryside, living in an isolated mansion that was settled under thick mist on most days. But what happens when Klaus leaves for a little, and things take a sinister turn for Y/n?

Warnings - I'm not joking when I say I have a list (right here). I'm begging on you on my knees -- please read the list before diving into the fic!!

Word Count - 10.2k (don't ask me about it)

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

EVERYONE CALM DOWN THE OCTOBER FIC IS FINALLY HERE!!! Wait let me calm down first. It's been so very long but I hope you guys will find the wait worth it!! This is the longest fic I've ever written, and probably the darkest too! The amount of research that went into this is mind boggling but anyways, I really really really hope you enjoy your time reading!! (the fic is divided into 2 parts, both of which are in this post itself!)

Thank you, anon, for requesting this and waiting so long! I might've taken a completely different route than what you asked for but I hope you won't mind too much <3

And I'm so sorry if I raised anyone's expectations too much!! If there one thing you should know about me, it's that I'm a disappointment. So expect the worst, thank you!

And please, please, please share your thoughts with me -- give feedback and reblog! It'll genuinely increase my life span ajshfjjakgds. (If you hate this fic, don't tell me I'm faint hearted, okay? okay.)

Holding the curtains to the side, Klaus gazed out of the window, the ghosts of the past not so visible anymore in the heavy mist that sat upon the empty acres of land that held nothing but dead grass as well as the dead, gone and buried.

It was so early in the morning that it felt like early winter, and the moon was still visible, looking so soft that its sight took all the weight of grief off the watcher's heart.

The collar of his cotton shirt ruffled as a gust of wind passed him by and touched the cold skin of his wife who lay in bed, gazing at him with the tired eyes that didn't catch a blink of sleep in the centuries that they have shown her the terrors and the romanticised of the world.

He smiled, already turning to walk over to her side of the bed. He knelt on the hardwood floor, ignoring it's creaking as he leaned in to press a kiss to her ear lobe, one that chased her mouth.

More of the wind rushed inside the room but neither of them paid much mind to it, for the cold didn't bother them much. Y/n kissed him back, giggling because it seemed that his mouth was eager to wander to places that might be more sinful than the true existence of their kind.

"When do you have to leave?" Y/n asked, breathless as Klaus intertwined his fingers with hers, and saddened because of the inevitable.

"In a few hours," Klaus suggested as he raised the skirt of her night gown while he himself slipped lower and lower until Y/n had to raise the sheets with her hand to look into his eyes as he bit into her thigh close enough to her heat to make her eyes to roll into the back of her skull.

Her palm traced the valleys of his face, feeling the highs and the lows to keep herself from transcending somewhere else while his mouth traced and lapped at her sweetness that was mentioned instead as poison in one of the books that she'd read in some of her earlier days.

"Klaus," she heaved his name as he quickened his pace, his eyes boring into hers, putting on a veil of innocence that they had lost even before they'd been first witness to the world.

Y/n believed that she'd lost her innocence the moment her mother had died while giving birth to her.

Air escaped her lungs all at once as she felt herself release and her hands clutched the unruly curls on the top of Klaus' head. Her hips lifted off the bed, meeting and escaping his mouth at the same time while a certain kind of dizziness took over her, making her feel like a leaf drifting slowly and slowly, off the tree, towards the earth.

Her mouth instinctively kissed back his lips, and she turned the two of them, so she was sitting on top of him. A grin took over her mouth, her eyes crinkling on the corners as she kissed up his chest and wandered off with her trail sideways.

Y/n inhaled softly and deeply upon his neck, sinking her cunning teeth into his hardened skin until she felt some warmth gush into her mouth. His blood coated her tongue like a thick syrup, sweet and addictive.

She sucked and more of it came flowing. In fact, so much of it came that she felt some slipping down the corners of her mouth. So, she backed away, licking the edges of her mouth with her head thrown back, letting the air fill her lungs and kick back in her senses.

The soft caress of Klaus' hand on the back of her head made her look down again, at his face that had her saying she knew what an angel looks like.

The black oblivion in his eyes that promised her a soulmate to spend the rest of eternity with sucked her in. Soon she was turning into corner after corner in a labyrinth, beginning to race in the fear that she was being chased until she found herself leaning against a wall while Klaus pulled on the laces of her corset, pulling hard enough to make Y/n suspicious that he just intended to pull her into him.

She looked into the mirror and caught a glimpse of his smirk, squinting at him when he met her gaze in their reflection.

"I really wish you could accompany me on the ride to the masquerade," she whispered, closing her eyes when she felt his fingers tap their way to the clasp of her necklace and lock it properly.

"I am your escort at the ball, love," he sighed, kissing the back of her head. "Have trust in me, you'll be fine," he murmured against her hair, smelling the faint scent of white Lilies and apples.

Far from the smell of the decaying bodies that he'd have to pass on his way to the city of New Orleans in a short while, though.

Y/n shut her eyes, wanting to protest that nothing when she's left behind, all on her own, stays fine. Instead, she gave a tight nod and turned to cup his face in her palms.

"Miss me," she grinned against the deep maroon of his lips, her laugh echoing when he kissed her passionately. And then she sighed, feeling the silage, her hand tracing the impression made in space where Klaus was once standing; now gone.

Sighing, she trailed down the stairs noiselessly -- it was an art she'd perfected during her time in the isolated estate.

She lit a lantern because despite it being daytime, not even a ray of light fell to the dead ground through the heavy fog that seemed to have settled on their property overnight.

Y/n shook her head, forcing herself to get out of her head and to fix the ragged rhythm of her breathing. While at that, she noticed a cobweb in the corner of the ceiling, instantly making a mental note to get Klaus to clean it up. She'd never felt an attachment to the spiders, though she respected their talent of weaving so masterfully and passionately.

Not enough to not ruin their work, though.

With faintly trembling hands, she picked the lantern off the dining table that could host an entire committee. She turned to walk back over to the main door, eyes settled on the minute details carved into the mansion's main door frame.

Forgetting the keys on the hook screwed to the wall, she looked closely, like she did every single day in the hopes of finding something new. Something tugged at the corner of her mouth when she caught a rose with a dagger stabbed through its middle, designed intricately into the door’s handle.

Smiling in satisfaction, she backed away and – the keys were gone. Y/n had seen them hung on the corner-most hook out the five, but now all of them were empty.

"The house spirits don't want you to leave," whispered her grandmother.

Y/n's head snapped to her side, the door was closed, the air still.

"Leave out some honey for them, perhaps, you can negotiate," she chuckled dryly, and Y/n scrambled to do as told before something more precious was taken from her; even though her grandmother has been dead for centuries and only talks to her when she's alone.

Almost dropping the plate in her hurry, Y/n slid the honey filled utensil in the middle of the table before rushing out of the door.

She exhaled sharply, almost choking on her own saliva as she raced away from the mansion, unable to calm herself down as the image of the keys hung on the hook right before she shut the door with her eyes widened in fear, flashed across her mind.

Klaus had only been away for a half an hour and already things were beginning to take a sinister turn. She took a shuddering breath, forcing her mind to focus on Klaus so that the stone inside her chest doesn't burst into a million tiny shards and she ends up dead because of a thousand cuts.

She brought up the lantern to her eyesight and sighed -- the flame had gone out somewhere amidst her rush.

But she had been in the woods before, she knew her way like the patterns in Klaus' hair. Smiling to manipulate herself, she strolled forward, eyes settled on the trees.

The acres of land on which the mansion stood like a ship on ocean waves, was tucked away under the thick fog when Y/n turned around to see it. But even in the dark blurriness, Y/n saw the tiny flowers dotted throughout the open fields. They were going to die soon, she sighed and walked on.

Then she began to run to catch a leaf that the wind plucked off of a tree.

Some dead, some changing colours, some still green while others had already transitioned into shades of orange or brown. All of the trees would all be lifeless soon, with no leaves or flowers on them, and Y/n will once again find comfort in the death that will encapsulate everything around her.

Maybe eat some of the pomegranates off the trees that will still be bearing some happiness in order to taunt her existence.

Far away in the distant, Y/n could see more huge estates. They seemed abandoned, worn, lived in by ghouls and frustrated spirits. She wondered if sprites and pixies ever giggled away nights in the unkempt properties, but she stole her gaze from the architectures before they could lure her in.

To spend her time alone feeling as normal as she could, she began to think of the love of her life, of Klaus and of how they came to be. And it began something like this...

It was the year 1047 in Russia, and the colour in Y/n's face had settled so deep that there was no life left in her skin.

She traced her cheeks, eyes widely aghast as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. There was nothing under her skin, except for an unsettling silence. There was no rush of blood, or thrumming of her anxious heart so loud in her ears that she felt like she was going to die, instead of smiling at the reminder that she was still alive.

She wished now though, that she had celebrated when her heartbeats came to stutters because she couldn't breathe. Because now, as she tried to find a pulse, she slipped her hand from her neck to the skirts of her gown.

There was nothing in her to prove that she wasn't a living corpse. Her skin was cold, hardened and ridden of all colours.

This couldn't have been. She wasn't a human anymore, and the more she saw of herself, the more rumours about Vampires echoed in her mind. If she was a vampire, then she quickly needed to find another one to survive. And she needed to flee town in order to escape her father, who would probably not even realise her absence in the misery of remembering her late mother.

So, with erratic breathing, she'd rushed back to her room and pulled out the one big handbag she had. She threw in as much as she could, including a large shawl, her night clothes, her warm woollen as well as her silk hood. She rolled two of her dresses somehow to fit, and ran to steal a bottle of her father's brandy and some camphor. He wouldn't know until he would run out of his current bottle, and Y/n won't be there to blame or to conspire with then.

Chanting under her breath for God's mercy, she ran into her bathroom and gathered all of her essentials such as tooth and nail brushes, soap, hairbrush, hairpins, her handy mirror and a towel off the hook.

Hungry because of her state of extreme breathlessness and panic, she packed some crackers and the sandwiches she had made earlier in her lunch and closed the chain of the bag. It was going to be hard to run with it on her arm, but she knew that what would be more hard was death.

She was going to be seen as the thing at the feast or at the sacrifice, and then, she wasn't even going to be seen because people would either burn her or bury her alive. And there was a possibility that she could take one wrong step, and the rumour that was a vampire's existence, would become more of a reality – which would lead to mass murder, of the hiding vampires and likely some innocents who had done no wrong in life but suffer at the hands of it.

She ran through the streets in the middle of the day, where everyone was too busy or too ignorant to be concerned about her. Her house was fairly close to the state of Kievan Rus' and she cried tears of joy for God's blessing as she ran, surprisingly not out of breath.

She ran with the wind throughout the day and night, as silently as she could, not wanting to draw any attention until she reached her destination. And it was on the third morning that she finally came to a stop on the land of Kyiv Koenugarr, the capital of the state that stood on the Dnieper River, the one that flowed to the Black Sea.

For the first time in three days, she smiled. Her breaths came to a faint pace as she stopped by in one of the guest houses to clean up. She knew that she needed to look good enough to convince the one person she had hoped in her heart would help her escape.

She didn't need to rest to get even a blink of sleep, but just out of old habit, she lay down on the soft bedding and shut her eyes to stop the racing of her mind. She could think when she wasn't so much on the edge regarding the fact that she didn't even feel burnt out after so much.

The corners of her eyes moistened as she realised that she wouldn't be missed back home. Maybe the little boy who lived next door would be saddened, but he would forget her too. He was too small to remember disappearance, Y/n hoped. She should have said goodbye to him at least, but maybe that was supposed to be her life's regret.

When the sun came back up, Y/n pulled out the one dress she had laid under the mattress during the night in hopes of getting it a bit decent and dressed herself. She put colour on her mouth and on her cheeks, and kohl on her eyelashes while hinting some of it on the line above.

She needed to look good for this, in case she had to do some convincing or begging. She hoped that she could just threaten, but she wouldn't do that to him who she essentially considered her brother.

She rubbed the one herbal mixture that she had on herself in some places and the fragrance of Saffron, Rosemary and Musk hit her senses all at once. Centering herself, she packed her bag again and began her stroll to find a cart, to where she knew he would be.

"I need to go to the docks!" She shouted over the harsh wind at the man, and he urged her to climb into the cart. "Thank you," she said now that she was behind him.

He nodded and began to move forward, going faster with the help of the forceful wind. It didn't seem like the man minded silence too much, so she kept quiet much to her liking and began an inner monologue to decide how she was going to ask him.

The time passed quicker than she could come to a conclusion though, so she stepped off and handed the man a kuna with a gentle nod for a thank you. She hoped she could find a mirror to maybe fix her hair a bit but she was found too soon for that convenience.

"And what in the world are you doing here?"

He asked, a frown and a smile adorning his features at the same time.

Happiness surged through her body like a gust of wind at seeing his face. It felt like he'd almost lifted her spirits.

"Nikolai!"

She rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could. She giggled when he began to swerve the two of them from side to side.

"You're clearly here for a reason so how about you tell me before I set off?" He said, nodding his head towards the awaiting ship.

A worry settled deep in her stomach. She began fidgeting.

"Will you take me with you?" She asked in a whisper because she knew how absurd this might sound to him.

He gripped her shoulders a little tighter.

"The ships are full of Vikings, Y/n. Don't be a fool," he gritted, his fingers leaving a wrinkle on the puff of her dress' sleave.

"But you are going to be with me, so I'll be fine!" She insisted.

Nikolai pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

Sighing, he began, "why do you want to go to Europe all of a sudden?"

She swallowed. "To start over, you know? And it sounds nice over there, a change would be good," she shrugged.

Y/n knew that he could sense her lying but when he didn't press her about it, she took a breath of relief.

Nikolai turned to walk, but just because of her nature, she gripped his arm from behind.

When he turned with intrigue, and saw worry settled in her big eyes, he hugged her again.

"I'll take care of you like my little sister, Solnishko (sunshine)," he whispered against her hair, and Y/n shut her eyes to force herself calm down. She had known him since her childhood, and she knew deep down that she trusted him more than she trusted her own father.

Backing away a couple steps, she let him take her bag from her hand. Squaring her shoulders, Y/n nodded, which Nikolai copied.

They shared a glint of excitement and nervousness in their gazes and passed each other a wide grin before making a run for the ship that was going to leave any minute now.

Y/n hadn't realised that while deep in her memory, she had come to a halt in front of the frozen lake. So when she heard the crunch of leaves, while she stood alone and completely still, her head whipped to scan her surroundings.

No one, in sight. Y/n knew better than to not trust her intuition so she focused in on all of her senses, there was no smell of blood, no sound of a beating heart, no sight of anyone, no feeling other than of being watched and nothing to touch but her own cold skin.

It had to be a vampire, if anyone.

With an unease, she started on her walk back home. She knew she could face whoever it was and get it over within seconds. But when she reached home unharmed, she felt like she might've just been going insane since she was alone.

She felt insane a lot of the time that she was alone, so with frustration settling deep in her belly, she went over to the room that she had locked the entire oblivion in. The library room.

Most of the books were read there, but when Klaus returned from his entrepreneurial ventures, he always brought back with him some new ones that he just had an instinct she was going to love. And she did mostly end up loving the stories so much that it felt as if they’d claimed a part of her – she'd never tell that to Klaus though, since he might just destroy all literature in the mansion in order to keep her all to himself.

Her eyes glanced at the two stopped clocks in the room and she shook her head because of the reminder that they might as well be haunted since she can't get them to work right for more than two sunsets.

As she sank in the deep green sofa with a worn hardback in her lap, a deep melancholy took over her. Her body felt so weak to the bones that it could've decomposed right there on the expensive furniture.

Suddenly, her grandmother, dressed in all black appeared at the doorway of the room. Y/n thought she had closed the door behind her.

The old woman walked in like she was silently praying on a child in a game to catch her, and stopped right in front of Y/n whose eyes felt hooded and a little too heavy. She took her hand and dropped something from her fist into her open palm.

Y/n brought it back to see for herself, and a gurgling sound escaped from her throat. She choked back on her saliva as the word 'MONSTER' was beginning to slowly be engraved in her palm, the inscription cutting her skin so deep that she fell off the sofa in pain, gripping her hand tightly as she tried to escape, and ended up falling on her bed.

With heavy breaths wreaking havoc inside her lungs, Y/n wiped the cold sweat on her skin on the bed sheets as she turned to lie on Klaus' side of bed. Inhaling deeply, she kept her eyes shut while her entire body shook in tremors and her mind began to show her the flashes of her sweet, well cherished moments spent with her head tucked away in Klaus' chest.

She really wished she could have a drop of his blood, then. Saliva pooled on her tongue, but she swallowed thickly, not allowing herself even the thought of taking a sip from the bottle that he always left behind for her.

—--

It was the 18th century, and Y/n didn't know quite know how to feel when the Pope declared her species as fallacious fictions of humankind. She had sighed deeply, breathing out the tension in her frame as she prepared herself to live a life without chewing her fingers ever again – not because people had potentially known of Vampire's existence, but because she was too paranoid to not fear somehow getting wound up in the theories and be burned on the stake only for her ashes to be fed to some sick family man considered bitten by a vampire.

But she'd also felt her lifeless heart be struck by sadness upon the realisation that she might not ever be accepted by anyone apart from her own species -- who had the foul habit of keeping itself so secretive that Y/n began feeling lonely even in a room full of people.

Then the 19th century rolled around, arguably the worst time period for a human to be alive according to Y/n. She seemed to have a realisation that if this century was going to be associated with one thing, it would be diseases and deaths.

Everyone in the town was always sick and someone was dying each hour. The ones who weren't actively dying, were so obsessed with the notion of death they essentially manifested it in their fate.

Tired of the ongoing death streak, Y/n ran away to the English Countryside. But because she was too lonely and had too much of the torturous time on her hands, she began to despise the fact that she was never going to have the peace that came with death, with the end – ever.

Feeling like she was going to kill herself if she spent another fleeting second in her own company, she found herself back in the main city, preoccupying herself among the aristocrats.

Then years later, the last Vampire Scare occurred in the late 19th century. While people weren't quick to put labels, the town affairs spread in whispers sounding similar to the fluttering wings of a Goldfinch.

But then, when the horrors of Vampires finally bit the dust, being declared as nothing but a myth blew out the one final flicker of hope inside Y/n's chest that longed for connections where the humans would tell her about their history and their folklores themselves instead of her having to read their biassed books in which they painted a portrait using their best colours.

No matter how much she hated being a myth, Y/n loved reading stories about the blood-sucking Roman vampires, and the German Nachzehrer, who harmed the living through "sympathetic magic" from afar.

Y/n loved to debate with Klaus just like humans did with each other, upon who were the English Vampires most like -- The Romanians or The Germans. All because it seemed to be a hot topic among the historians, folklorists, theologists and who not, that like Romanians, New Englanders "were looking for liquid blood in the vital organs, not evidence of shroud chewing." The anti-vampire remedy of "cutting the heart out, burning it to ashes and feeding the ashes to the sick ones" was also something that was practiced in Romania.

But what quite disgusted Y/n was the fact that the sole reason humans even knew of Vampires was because they were brainless and attracted diseases like flowers honey bees during springtime; and also because they feared the said diseases and desired to have control over it in some way, or at least to feel like they did.

Since then, whenever a new resurgence of ‘Vampires are real’ rumours flowed, Y/n chose to ignore it. Because in the current day and age, the resurfacing of the supernatural was simply because of its glorification and romanticisation in the literature; and of course, just an human’s itch to dig into the past.

—--

The music echoed throughout the mansion as Y/n's fingers danced across the keys of the grand piano. There weren't any notes sitting on top for Y/n to read from, she was simply playing what she'd known and what was coming to her as she played.

Moonlight poured in through barred windows that stood on the grounds and touched the ceilings. Something in the back of her mind was telling her that someone was watching her, but she ignored the warning sign, tired of her hallucinations and tired of trying to decipher between what was real and what wasn't.

Her own mind playing tricks on her wasn't something she dealt with very well. It felt like a betrayal, by whom, she couldn't tell. But it was unfair, that not everyone had to constantly decipher their experiences as real or not.

In the moment, all she knew was that as long as the music was flowing and she was hitting the notes remarkably well, she and everything surrounding her was real. Though she'd been told that her playing could bring the dead back, she tried not to think about it.

Frustrated because of the nagging thought of having a watcher, Y/n wondered if the pressing of her fingers on the keys will ever not be soothing for her. Gradually, she felt something rushing within her, something taking over her senses as the sounds hit the tall walls and reverberated back into her ears with violent vibrations that she hated to feel – she felt overcome.

Her fingers started to move on their own, quickening the pace when she reached the beat drop and realised, the answer was yes.

She pulled herself back from the grand piano like it had electrocuted her. Wild eyes and frantic breathing, Y/n waited for the silence to settle and encapsulate her.

Standing up, she took hold of the candelabra that had been sitting on the top of the piano, and climbed up the stairs in the candle's unreliable, flickering light. There was no light in this part of the mansion, the moonlight didn't reach in the back and Y/n felt a breath down her spine as she opened the library room's door.

She didn't walk in right away though. She spared a wry glance to her right, at the other room’s door that was locked. It was night time and she didn't want to be flooded with the horrifying memories of her past that was withheld in that room. But still, the images of Klaus draining bodies in that very room flashed in front of her eyes – causing her to clench them shut and skip inside the library without a second thought.

Picking up the book she'd dropped on the floor earlier, she shut the door quietly and held the skirts of her dress in order to make a run towards the master bedroom. She felt safe in the company of the candle's flame that hadn't gone out in her hurry and she sat in her bed, no longer scared and no longer around; transported into a realm where she was a little human girl skidding through the forest wearing a red cloak, on the way to her grandmother's home when she comes across a sly wolf!

—--

Y/n was standing just outside the door, hiding behind the wall with a cloth to her mouth. Sobs threatened to leave her mouth similarly to how the tears were escaping her eyes, sliding down her cheeks and falling into pools on the ancient flooring.

Sounds of mouths biting into necks, tearing through skin and splintering bones echoed through the chambers. The halls of the mansion were built like those of Cathedrals, tall in order to make a sound boom and echo.

She clenched her eyes shut when another body fell to the ground, lifeless. Daring to peek inside despite her fragile heart, Y/n's mouth fell open as the scene unfolded in front of her.

Klaus was sitting on the one and only chair in the room, looking nothing less than a king sitting on his throne. In front of him, the rest of the hall was full of vampires – sucking on each other.

Some had bitten into another's wrist while they were being fed upon at their neck. Every single soulless body standing in the room had its teeth bared, looking for a life to take whilst theirs was already being drained away by one of their own.

"Faster!" Klaus roared and everyone began to draw blood from one another as if their life depended on it.

Which it did according to what Y/n heard next.

"Remember puppies, if you wish to live, you'll have to drain as many bodies as you can!" He spoke loudly, a wide malicious grin on his mouth.

Y/n sank low upon the grounds, frozen until her eyes met with one of the vampires.

A blood-curdling scream escaped her throat and Y/n felt like all of the blood was rushing to her head. She clutched it, lowering further into the ground in hopes of diminishing the pain but her vision began to fade instead.

She saw Klaus watching her, held for ransom by fate as Y/n fell to the ground, her last sight being of the vampires still feeding like they were at a feast.

When she woke up, Klaus was sitting at the foot of the bed. A book in his hands but not a word was he able to utter when she asked him what the book was about.

He shut it and tossed it across the bed, holding the bridge of his nose as Y/n looked at him through hooded eyes.

"I asked you of one thing," he began. "I asked you not to walk by the room until dusk."

His teeth were clenched, and Y/n could tell by the waver in his voice that he was trying with all of his might to not smash the furniture in the room.

She hoped that he would keep trying, that she wouldn't have to see the black in his eyes represent the devil rather than the peaceful oblivion she saw in them because she wanted to spend it with him.

"Then why, tell me love, were you there?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child," Y/n croaked out, stealing her gaze from him to look away.

"But what you did was childish!"

"And you were a monster!" Y/n shouted, now sitting up in the bed with her fists clenching the mattress.

Klaus stood still for a moment, then scoffed.

"I'm the monster?" He asked, his voice so light it sent a wave of regret through Y/n's chest.

"Klaus --"

"No, Y/n," Klaus swallowed, now pacing across the room. "They tried to steal you from me and I'm the one being called the monster for doing to them little of what they deserve for the horror they put you through."

"Klaus, you didn't need to take the blood on your hands. I would've taken my revenge, and you know that," Y/n said.

"Alright then. Fair enough," nodding, Klaus came to a halt. "Let's put it this way – I took my revenge because I love you and I thought I lost you. That thought pained me to the point of no comparison so I took my revenge," he shrugged.

"If you desire, you can take your revenge. I'm sure they are still alive with the speed that they seemed to have lost," Klaus gestured back towards the room.

Y/n clenched her eyes shut. "Lock the room, Klaus," she asked him.

With a faint nod of acceptance, Klaus locked the door to the room where most of the vampires had fallen to the floor, dead. The last ones sucking raced when they saw Klaus and fell to the floor with a thump once the last drop of blood was drunk from their bodies.

Drawing the doors shut, Klaus put a humongous lock on the door and took a step back. He knew what Y/n was going to ask of him when he 'd return, so with a final breath, Klaus decided that among those vampires, Klaus had also locked his own demons inside.

Y/n's head rose when she saw him stroll back into the master bedroom.

"Promise me that you'll never take a life ever again," she whispered.

Klaus nodded, looking into her eyes with honesty so bright it could've blinded her.

"And if you do, do it after you take mine," Y/n spoke stiffly. "Or I'll take yours."

Klaus dropped to his knees beside her side of the bed to hold her hand.

"You have my word," he spoke hoarsely, leaning in just enough that Y/n had to come the rest of the way to meet his mouth.

"I love you," she whispered against his mouth. "I cannot lose you to your demons."

"I love you, too,” Klaus said, stopping when his voice wavered. “And you know that you are my only reason," he smiled, letting her push him back on the bed.

—--

Y/n woke up with excitement fluttering through her entire being. It was brighter than the previous day, she noticed. But all of the mist was still sitting around so Y/n drew her curtains apart and opened the windows.

The cold wind carried with it the smell of pomegranate flowers, making Y/n smile.

Squaring her shoulders, she looked into the void outside, wishing Klaus was beside her to experience the beauty of dragonflies dancing around on top of the flowers sprinkled throughout the fields.

Orange and red scenery was not unmet by her eyes when she squinted. A lot of the trees had turned now, and Y/n wondered why they decided to turn just a little earlier than usual.

She wrapped herself in her robe and walked throughout the house, opening all the windows and drawing curtains to let the light pour in. She felt calm, especially since the past couple of days had been extraordinarily troublesome for her.

Back in her library room, Y/n picked up the neat letter that had been sitting on her desk. It was the letter of the ball invitation sent via the Salvatore Sons, and Y/n was more than giddy to finally meet Klaus there.

Most humble citizens of the realm, You are hereby requested to attend a masquerade ball in honour of the thirtieth marriage anniversary of our dearest Lilian Salvatore and Guiseppe Salvatore, the radiant couple -- also respected members of the founder's council of Mystic Falls. Costumes and masks will be strictly required for entry, and each couple must bring a gift. This sophisticated affair will be a tantalising and stylish celebration with a feast, dancing and competitions. You all will delight in the wondrous, safe atmosphere of Castle Harrowgate. The gates of Castle Harrowgate shall be opened at first dusk in two days' time, and you are expected to be punctual. Dictated but not read Damon and Stefan Salvatore.

While Y/n wasn't one for gatherings, she could appreciate a ball every once in a while. She felt a bit of dread pooling inside of her at the thought of meeting the Salvatores, who had known of her and Klaus while she hadn't known of their mere existence.

Still, she walked across the mansion and picked some flowers the whole morning. In the afternoon, she wrote a poem and read some chapters of her current read that was of her beloved genre, gothic horror.

Once the sun had begun getting tired, though, Y/n slipped into her room and sat in front of her vanity. It still felt a little foreign to her, she wouldn't lie. That doesn't mean she didn't find it infinitely convenient.

She applied rose water on her face first and then rubbed some cream on the skin in order to make her skin look just a little more alive than a corpse's. It brought a certain shine to her face, she thought.

Then she dabbed some light coloured starch on her face in order to even out her complexion, though she didn't quite need to. She was simply following a makeup routine she had learnt from a lady while she had been out in the towns a few months ago, when the sun was overhead and blinding.

She smiled a little tightly as she put some maroon powder on the top of her cheeks, making her look like she had a heart and blood circulation under her skin. Smiling genuinely at her reflection in the mirror, she looked away just before she could begin to point out her flaws.

Lastly, she dabbed some lip tint on her mouth in a way that made her lips look bitten rather than painted.

Tying her own corset for her dress was troublesome enough that she had broken a sweat whilst she'd been at it. Patting cotton all over her face in annoyance, she fixed the ruffles of her dress for the last time.

The colour of the dress was similar to that of the darkest emerald out there, and upon it were drawn complex patterns in all shades of green that went best with the gown's colour.

She had her hair in a low bun sitting on the nape of her neck, the lowest of her hair strands falling out into coils just a couple inches lower. A flowery crown sat on top of her bun like a crown made out of golden oak leaves, the crystals reflecting the sunlight all over the room.

Anxious that she was likely forgetting something, she took hold of her purse and carried in her other hand the gift she had chosen to give – a thick and rich blanket, along with other trinklets and fruits and nuts. She'd also added a tobacco pouch or two in there.

She rushed out of the mansion and sped to the main street, where she accepted herself in a carriage. Once she was sat, she took a deep breath.

Although gradually she realised that the cold sweat she'd broken earlier wasn't because she had been racing around.

It was because subconsciously, she felt like there was a stone sitting inside her chest, one other than her heart. It was heavy, and sharp too. Something was going to go wrong, her guts screamed. She had an instinct that she was going to die that evening, but she ignored all and focused on the dying scenery around her as the carriage raced further.

It was a masquerade ball, surely she'd be able to fool death if it happened to be there as well.

When the carriage turned into a lane, and Y/n saw the mansion; a shiver ran down her spine. It was eerily quiet there, no one in sight and no sounds of a gathering filling the atmosphere.

The castle’s walls stood tall, with tinted windows. It looked like a secretive fortress, with its additional dark towers and iron gates.The sun light didn’t reach the estate very well, and it was all shades of dark – with not even a barren tree in its circumference.

Had she come too early, she wondered and checked her pocket watch. She was just a few minutes late, actually. Maybe people weren't so punctual anymore, she shouted back at her alarmed instincts.

She looked up at the sky which was darkening as the sun was setting. But it was full of heavy clouds drifting slowly, waiting for the right time to bring hell on land.

In the time that she came face to face with the castle, she tried to focus on her hearing. But she couldn't hear any heartbeats, nor any quietened gossip floating around. It was more silent than Y/n had noticed it was underwater during the summer.

Clutching her shawl in clenched fists, she stepped off the carriage. Handing the man a couple pennies and thanking him, she waited as he backed away until out of the sight.

Then she finally turned her gaze onto the Castle Harrowgate, and as she began to feel like it was all a trap, she realised that might as well already be in one.

Klaus had told her that he would meet her by the time the ball would start, to accompany her for the dance since he couldn't imagine sharing with another man the pleasure of dancing with his wife. And upon checking the watch once again, Y/n remembered that the gates must have been opened about half an hour ago.

So, to see no footprints outside the muddy path covered with cobblestones stood out to her. She squinted her eyes, unsure if she'd be able to make a run for it now.

Y/n was better than that though, she could fight an army of vampires if she wanted to with her original strength. But to be wearing a gown and heels, with a gift bag in one hand and a purse in the other, Y/n wasn't sure if she wanted to get blood sprayed all over herself.

Sensing eyes on her, she searched the windows to see even a shadow. But there was none. It was the same feeling as the one she'd gotten when she'd been in the forest a couple days prior, feeling like she was being preyed upon.

She gulped dryly, praying to a god she didn't believe existed that the cowards behind this plan would be willing to talk this through. She didn't wish to be anyone's death, nor did she wish to die herself. She did, occasionally, but now as she felt like death was breathing down her neck, she felt like taking another sip of life before going to bed.

As she walked further and crossed the threshold of the castle, she felt wind move behind her before she could've seen past the open gates.

She screamed but a hand was covering her mouth and as she tried to remind herself that she was a vampire and didn't need to be frightened, her vision began to fade inwards until she could see nothing but the death's cousin – that is sleep.

When she gained back her senses again, she knew that she was in a lot of trouble. She still couldn't see, but she could smell the vampires who had probably noticed her consciousness by now. She could hear them bickering that had come to a sudden halt. She could feel someone standing right beside her in a second and she could touch the chains that she'd been tied up with.

It was raining heavily outside, probably so angrily that it would feel like there were millions of needles being dropped on your skin, all at once, if one happened to be out in it.

Her arms were stinging since they'd been tied up on the two sides. She was on her knees, bent over because of weakness. At least she hoped that's what they thought she felt. Her hair was falling on her face and over her shoulder – how had it slipped out of a tight bun, she wondered and came to the conclusion that it must have happened when she'd struggled against the man's chest while he'd had her in a chokehold with vervain held right over her nose.

Had she been in his place, she'd have burned the skin off the captive's face. She smiled at the kindness these people had shown her.

"Glad you'll finally be put out of the misery of living your immortal life?" Someone spoke from across the room, a man. Likely middle aged, she assumed.

"Glad to finally meet you, Guiseppe," Y/n smirked when the man's breathing stuttered just a bit. "Though I wish it hadn't been this way."

"A lovely mouth you've got with a lovely face," said a younger voice. "Too bad that all the fortune would go to waste."

Y/n chuckled, then choked because of the dryness in her throat. "Mark my words when I say that this will be the very mouth that'll rip your throat out, Salvatore" she shrugged, unsure whether it was Stefan or Damon that she was talking to.

"C'mon, you can't possibly be delusional enough to hope you're going to get out of this one!" Said the same voice, quietened by a clearing of the throat.

The window shutters were rattling, and a couple of animals were howling outside.

"Damon, bring a chair for me, will you?" Said Guiseppe.

Y/n laughed at that; her head was thrown back. "Since when do you care so much that your child might witness a murder?"

"Oh, trust me hon, death doesn't even bother me no more," Damon joked and Y/n grinned. It would be a petty to shut that humourous mouth forever six feet deep into the ground.

"Damon, go," said a handsome voice.

It was silent for a moment and all of Y/n's senses were working relentlessly. But the most she could hear was the ongoing storm outside, thunder rolling like death was on its own carriage, coming down to take Y/n with it.

The thought of whether she had served her purpose in her life was fleeting. But then she began to ponder, if only humans were allowed to deal with existentialism, and whether it was satirical for her to even be thinking that she might just have a meaning to her life.

But then she drifted off to think of her immortality. All her life, she'd never dared to ponder over it – afraid she might begin to have the urge to kill herself. Had she made anything out of having a life that'd never end?

Did she need to do that? Did she really need a reason or a purpose to live? Or since being an immortal, she had to pay the loan by giving this world her all?

But before she could start to lose her mind, she was snapped back to reality.

“I only saw you from the back, in the forest and from outside your mansion,” said the same handsome voice before he chuckled. Y/n’s breathing came to halt – she had been right.

“But sweetheart, you seem like the devil carved you himself – so dangerously beautiful,” he whispered under his breath.

When Y/n didn’t say anything, wanting for him to continue admitting all that he’d done, the young one laughed.

"We aren't going to kill you, by the way,” said he who Y/n was beginning to assume was Stefan.

"Too bad that I will, once I'm out of these shackles."

Y/n genuinely was disappointed. She wanted to cry because she hadn't even thought about this possibly being a trap, and she hated herself for it. And she also hated the fact that these people found it so entertaining, the way they'd played her.

Feeling pathetic, she manipulated herself to turn her sadness into ferocious rage. She couldn't let these men take advantage of her.

Someone laughed, and Y/n smiled. She wanted them to believe that she couldn't help herself out of the chains.

"We just want Klaus," Damon said as if he was bored out of his wits. "You see, he loves you. Surely, he'll trace you here. Then we'll capture him, toy with him, kill him and ponder what to do with your beauty."

Y/n wasn't feeling too sarcastic anymore. She wanted to skin these men alive and hang them upside down to be eaten alive by the crows. But she contained herself with a deep breath.

"You've seen so much of my beauty, it'll only be fair if I got to see yours," she proposed and waited in silence as someone walked over and removed the blindfold from her face.

Squinting, she saw Guiseppe, who looked like he wanted to kill himself. Then she saw Damon, who looked exactly like he talked and Stefan, who was as handsome as his smooth voice.

"Handsome, you two," she nodded at the younger men. "Surely you've got your looks from your stunning mother," she added.

Damon snickered and Stefan glared at him.

"You know, since Klaus met you, his heart has clearly grown quite faint. And we have been sitting, bored, for too long now. It would be nice to have somethings stirred up, yea?"

Y/n shivered as the dark room lit up when lightning stroked the sky.

"Oh, you don't play games with the wily devil," she cautioned, lowering her voice just to exaggerate although everyone in the room was on edge, knowing she'd spoken nothing if not the utter truth.

"Too late to back out now, though," a glowering voice came from right outside the locked doors of what Y/n could only assume was a dungeon or a chamber of some sort.

She grinned, quickly scanning the three men's faces to relish in their fear. Damon's sharp eyes were now wide open, waiting for his death to come any second now. Stefan was standing in a stance, ready to fight although he knew he didn't stand a chance.

And Guiseppe had broken cold sweat, his breathing was so heavy Y/n almost missed the erratic beating of his heart.

Klaus was here, she could imagine him standing behind the door solely for the suspense, fully capable of breaking down the door into shambles.

He kicked once, and the doors came falling inwards, Damon stepping back just in time for the wood to splinter on the floor in front of him.

When Y/n's eyes met with Klaus', she urged him to turn around. But then she flinched when Klaus missed her indication and was hit by a vase on the nape of his neck.

He fell to the ground. crouching for only a second before he'd disappeared.

The three men searched frantically, turning and twisting in distress.

Y/n saw him racing towards her and she opened her arms, letting him carry her. He situated her on the floor above, behind the railings.

“Are you alright?” He asked frantically, searching her over for any signs of injuries. But Y/n cupped his face and kissed him, reassuring him that she wasn’t wounded.

"Don't look," he asked of her earnestly, knowing the effect it could potentially have on her later on. "For me," he breathed.

Y/n pecked his mouth, then. Resting her lips on his until there was only Klaus' scent in front of her instead of him. She stumbled back and slid down a wall, sitting down and burrowing her head in her knees.

"Prepare your riffles!" Guiseppe shouted at the group of men filling the room urgently.

Guns were cocked and sat on men's shoulders, their fingers on the triggers, ready to shoot to kill.

"Where's --" Albert was cut off by a gust of air, during which he disappeared. He was one of the men, the most determined of them all and still the one with the most thirst for life.

Damon turned and saw for himself the chains to which he had tied Y/n, now lying on the grounds, wrapped around Albert's throat. His eyes were wide open, not a sparkle of life left in them.

Swallowing, Damon knocked his elbow into Stefan's ribs. When he hissed in response, Damon shut him up by pointing towards the dead body.

Both of the boys were now looking towards their father with the same hatred they glared at him with every day. He was going to be the reason behind their deaths. They thought of fleeing at the same point, unaware of each other's notions but both were too full of pride to die a coward.

They knew that if they ran, they had a higher chance of dying.

It was silent again, the only sounds in the room being rapidly beating hearts being interrupted by the rolling thunder outside.

Someone pulled the trigger, and when everyone saw, the bullet had passed through the middle of his own forehead. It was Frank, the one who had come to fight quite reluctantly.

Many men were thinking of fleeing now.

"You didn't tell us that the vampires could do this!" Bert gritted near Guiseppe's ear. He was now hopeless for he was never going to get to take walks near his favourite lake ever again.

"You'll be more responsible for our deaths than these goddamn monsters," shouted young James from across the room. He has just gotten married and wanted to have children, raise them up to be as strong as their mother.

Guiseppe was getting more and more frantic now, he could see his death waiting around the corner for him. The sweat rolling down his back was too cold, and his heart felt like it was going to burst inside of his chest.

Nothing was going how he had planned it.

James also disappeared then, and upon noise, everyone saw that his body was hanging off the humongous chandelier, the blood from the open wound on his neck dripping down on men's faces and on the floor. The sound of the blood pooling was ringing in everyone's ears and they all moved out of the way quickly, wiping off the blood on them with the cuffs of their shirts.

Metallic scent of the blood was beginning to suffocate everyone. Choking sounds were heard before William was thrown to a wall, also dead. He was a master at playing cards.

"Run everyone and set the room on fire!" Shouted Bert, but then his head was smashed off his shoulders and his body was swaying around, before it fell to the ground, writhing a little more before going still.

Now only Damon, Stefan and Guiseppe were left alive in the room. The two younger ones looked at each of the lifeless bodies, then at each other.

"God, I want to kill you two before they get a chance!" Guiseppe roared and bent to steal the gun from Bert's hands.,

But before he could pull the trigger, his head was pulled back and a knife sliced his throat.

The two boys howled in agony and covered their faces when Guiseppe's blood sprayed all over them.

When nothing more happened, they opened their eyes and saw Y/n still holding onto their father, the knife still in her bloodied hands.

Dropping the body then, Y/n looked at them regretfully.

She had to come out since Klaus had to take a second to keep his wolf at bay and the old twat was going to shoot his sons. She didn't mind witnessing the three men's deaths at all though. Surely, they must've prepared themselves for it when they'd been planning the entire betrayal.

"Sorry you had to see that," she muttered, stealing her gaze from their horrified ones. Or maybe from Klaus' eyes that shone golden from where he was standing right behind their backs.

She knew the two brothers' fates before they could've even battled whether to try and negotiate a deal or not.

One of the chains which she had been tied to earlier, was wrapped around Klaus' fist.

In the blink of her eyes, both of the brothers had begun choking. The same chain wrapped around their throats; their backs pressed together. If one tried to pull the chain away from their neck, the other brother would choke to death.

Damon was coughing out his spare breaths, panic widening his eyes so much that Y/n feared they might pop out of their sockets. His mouth was beginning to lose colour just like his skin. Still, there was the beg for another chance reddening his eyes, but Y/n switched her gaze onto Stefan.

He was wheezing heavily, his throat making loud creaky noises that Y/n, unfortunately, could recognise anywhere, at any time. He was dying faster than Damon, and his eyes were set on hers when they stopped moving.

As his body began to fall forward, the chain around Damon's neck tightened so tightly that his tongue protruded out of his mouth, eyes staring into the void, lifeless.

Y/n took a shuddering breath, then looked at Klaus.

"I'm sorry you had to do this," she whispered, crossing over the two dead bodies to cup his face.

It had been hard to have him feel solace with his existence without having the urge to kill. Almost like trying to get him clean off of a drug addiction.

This had been a relapse, then. And Y/n's stone-cold heart was trembling inside her chest in fear of losing him to the coping addiction again.

But then the golden rim of an eclipse melted like honey into the moss of his eyes, and they crinkled at the corners. He leaned in and rested his forehead on hers.

"This did not happen because of you, remember that," he whispered. "I needed to do this, or I wouldn't have been able to live with myself."

Y/n nodded solemnly. A tear rolled down her cheek.

"I love you," she sobbed, her body shaking as she pushed herself further into Klaus' chest, wanting to hide away from all that was surrounding her. "You are the remedy of all things."

"Always and forever, my love," Klaus smiled, wrapping his arms around her.

"Let's go home," he muttered into her hair and bent down to pick her up like he had on their wedding day.

"No carriages, since the driver will surely take us to the authorities upon seeing us doused in blood and have not a single wound at the same time," he grinned, laughing when she hit his chest.

"I was really excited for this ball," Y/n sighed. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"Me too, love," Klaus said, preparing to race through the small town along with the clear wind.

"But it was evanescent, wasn't it? This rage, this murderous urge – it was fleeting?" Y/n asked nervously, hopefully.

Klaus nodded faintly. "I'm offended you'd think I have such low control," he teased, and Y/n breathed a sigh of relief. “My love, this thirst has gone as quickly as it’d come,” he reassured her.

"Didn't want to kill again but I'm guessing it was for the better, since no one would dare to forget about what the hybrid is capable of for a long time now," smirking, Klaus looked around at the mess he'd made.

“Now let’s go back home,” he smiled and Y/n’s eyes watered as she nodded.

When Klaus had suspected foul play, he'd felt vontade; a strong desire to do something. So powerful had been his inner drive to remind everyone of his terror that he couldn't have helped himself. The thought of losing Y/n had been petrifying enough.

So, he kicked someone's decapitated head out of his way and strolled outside, already annoyed upon the realisation that in the morning, he’d have to hear about the harrowing news of the horrors found inside the Castle Harrowgate.

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 9 months ago

Text

My Favorite Pet

Touch Me (1)

BDSM Preformer!Fem!Reader! X subby! Wanda

Summary: You've hit your limit when you can't find a partner to click with at work until a new plaything comes along.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!, obviously BDSM themes at play, collar leash play, exhibitionism and voyeurism, pet play, pet names (R is referred by W as Mommy, W is referred by R as pet and plaything along with amor) degradation, praise, R uses strap on W, rope play, vibrator use, edge play, aftercare

Word count: 4.5K

A/N: I loved writing this, and I still have more I want to do with this, so if you like it, there could be a part 2 in the future

Having all eyes on you was something you normally dreaded. You hated knowing that people were looking or staring at you. Normally you’d want to be invisible, but not now; not on stage. Fuck did it feel good to have people watching you get degraded or degrade someone else. To toy and tease, bending to your pleasure.

You stood above him, cold as you played through your scene; distant. As soon as it ended, you were gone, far away from him and everyone else. Of course, though, he yells after you are trying to get you to stop. You hate it when anyone yells at you, but more specifically, men.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Y/N!?” He asked as you stopped. Everyone around had their eyes on you, and you shook in place. “Well? What the hell was that? There was nothing behind that! No feeling. No emotion! How are we supposed to give them a good show when it’s all fake?”

You kept walking, ignoring him and his words. It didn’t matter to you anymore. They’re all the same, and none of them are satisfying to you.

“Fuck this I’m done. Find yourself a new stage partner!” you started running until you went out the back door, out of breath as you fall down.

How are you supposed to keep this job when you can’t work with anyone here? You can’t do anything else. This is all you're good at. You are not going to go back to being a teacher again. You loved that, but this was on a whole other level of making you happy and paying the bills that’s for sure.

“Y/N/N?” You hear the familiar voice of your best friend, Kate, call out to you. You look up at her, and she realizes the tears in your eyes. “Oh Y/N, what happened?” She sits down next to you, the warm summer night air feeling good on your skin.

“I can’t work with any of them. There’s no feeling behind it and none of them want to work with me if I can’t do that, but I haven’t been able to do that since…” you shake your head trying not to think of bad thoughts, back to your last partner, well your last partner before Kate. You feel her arms wrap around you, pulling you close.

“Listen to me. She’s nothing. Got it? She’s a shit person, and she doesn’t control you.” You nod slowly, choosing to think of the better times with Kate. You sniffled a bit, and Kate held you tighter. You and Kate had dated for a bit, but you two realized you were better as friends.

“You’ll be okay, let’s go home.” She got up, pulling you up with her.

You hadn’t been to the club in a week even though the manager keeps calling you to ask if you want to do a performance. You can’t though…nobody wants you as their partner. You can’t put emotions into something that you have no emotion towards.

You're lying on Kate’s couch with a blanket pulled up to your chin and scrolling on your social media. You've been staying here instead of your house because you didn’t want to be alone. Kate’s wife, Yelena, is pretty amazing, too. The three of you get along really well. She’s at the end of the couch with your feet on her lap as she watches something on TV. Your phone buzzes again, and it’s your manager, Natasha, who is Yelena’s older sister; you sigh and get Yelena’s attention before answering it.

“Yes Tasha?” you asked, sounding exhausted even to yourself. You shifted onto your back and looked at Lena, who raised an eyebrow. Mouthing ‘Sestra?’ Which you nod to her.

“Can you come tonight? I need you to help out with a new girl. She’s going to be starting tonight. She’s a year younger than you and I think it’d be good for both of you.” You sigh again, not really wanting to go out tonight, especially not there where you have to dress up and put on a show.

“Domme or sub?” you ask, noticing Yelena’s smirking.

“Sub it seems.” Submissive boys are fun to play with, but girls are always a lot more fun to play with.

“Alright…what time?” you could hear her perk up.

“The usual time. Five to close.” You sigh again. After not being there for a week, you were not looking forward to a nine hour shift.

“I’ll be there, no promises on how good I’ll be.” You let her know and hung up. You closed your eyes, and Lena spoke,

“We going to the club tonight?” Lena wiggled her eyebrows at you. As if doesn’t visit her sister every night or work on the back end of the business with Kate.

“Yeah there’s a new girl they want me to show her the ropes, literally.” you both laugh at the pun as Kate comes in the front door.

“What’s so funny?” She asks setting her keys down in the bowl they keep by the entry way.

“Y/N’s gotta show a new girl the ropes.” Kate’s expression falls.

“You two are idiots.”

“We’re your idiots though~” you say and get up with a smile. “This could end up being a fun evening.”

You had Kate and Yelena take you back home so you could go choose an outfit. It was simple enough, just a red silk button-up with a black tie and a black button-up vest and some black dress pants as well as a pair of black loafers. You checked yourself over in the mirror and slicked your Y/H/C hair back.

Your phone vibrates multiple times in a row, and you know it’s Kate. You smile and roll your eyes as you grab your phone. Five new text messages from her.

≈≈≈

The club was always so quiet before hours as the three of you made your way inside past Bucky the bouncer who always loved to see you. Familiar faces on you, some happy and others not so much as you made my way to Tasha letting her know to send the new girl to your room and then headed there. Kate and Yelena stayed behind, grabbing a drink from the bartender, Scott.

You were putting the finishing touches on your make-up when there was a knock at your door. “Come in.” you called, when the door opened you looked through your mirror to see probably the most beautiful woman you had ever met, auburn hair, piercing emerald green eyes that you could see from across the room, she wore a short black dress with a red leather crop jacket, she wore knee high ripped stockings, and ankle cuff boots, the make-up around her green eyes was dark and smoky in a way that reminded me of high school.

“Hi you’re Y/N, right?” She asked and fuck she has an accent which is your biggest weakness. You love accents of all kinds and most of them turn you on.

“Yes that is me. I unfortunately wasn’t told your name, just that you’re new and would be my new partner.” She smiled at you.

“Wanda. Wanda Maximoff.” She told me.

“Wanda...” You tested the name on your lips. “Beautiful.” You smiled and noticed her blush. “Come here.” You beckoned, and she finally stepped in, sauntering over to you. “Spin around.” She does as told, spinning slowly as I looked her over, drinking up every inch of her. “Stop.” you commanded as she faced you again. “Kneel.” She got down without a word of protest, “Such a good girl.” You smirk. “Now tell me, is there anything I should know about you, Wanda?” you ask and she pulls out the forms that everyone has to fill out of their kinks, hard limits, soft limits, and some personal questions mainly about health issues that your play partner should be aware of, allergies, and if you have any STDs. The last question is about safe sex which Wanda takes birth control much like myself. Not that you ever actually do it with the guys.

As far as tastes go, Wanda and you are pretty much on the same page with your likes and dislikes, which makes you smile. “I can work with this.” You tilt her chin up using your fingers. She had been looking at the floor this whole time, “Now for my own personal questions for you, Wanda. Which name do you like better, pet, puppy, kitten, baby, or something else entirely?” You ask her.

“Pet is always a good one for me. I tend to have Doms that tell me what I am, why does it matter which I like best?” She tilts her head to the side so innocently.

“I want to get the best reaction out of you. The whole performance is you. All eyes on your reactions, and they need to be genuine. No form of play is good if you don’t follow one simple rule.” You tell her, and she tilts her head the opposite way. You lean down slightly, so you're eye level with her. “I may be the Domme, but you are in control of the whole scene. You’re the one who holds control over all of it.” You tell her, and she looks so confused.

“What are you talking about? I’m not in control at all. You control me. You tie me up, you degrade me, you turn me into a dumb slut because you’ve fucked me until I can’t even think how am I in control?” you bite your lip at the idea of everything she just said to you, soaking it in and remembering it for your performance.

“Safe word.” You start, “You hold all of the control because you hold the safe word. The thing that will end everything. Make me stop dead in my tracks and make sure you’re okay. Make sure you are safe.” You're looking into the deep emerald eyes, and she’s staring back into my own Y/E/C ones. “You really never had a good Dom who took care of you, did you?” You tilt your head.

“They took care of me in the way that mattered.” She tried defending, but I knew she didn't have a leg to stand on in this aspect.

“Aftercare.” You state simply, and she looks at you with her face contorting in confusion.

“What?”

“Have you ever had aftercare?”

“I...what is that?” Your heart sinks at her response.

“How many Dom/sub relationships have you been in?”

“Seven.” She swallows hard. Seven BDSM relationships and not one of them took care of this girl?

“Aftercare is what you do when the scene ends. This is where the Dom makes sure that you come back from subspace in a safe way and not crashing back; it can have bad effects on your mental and physical health. I always have my subs tell me what they like best, for me personally when I’m the sub I tend to ask for cuddles and I can just scroll on my phone watching tiktok and YouTube shorts that I can share with my partner. I’ve had subs that ask for cuddles and words of affirmation, I’ve had baths after a scene is done, surprisingly I even had one that just wanted to always go for a walk in the park after.” ypu shrug, “Everyone is different. What is something you think you’d like to do?” You ask, and she thinks for a moment.

“I really enjoy cooking, and I’m always hungry after sex. I’ve always just cooked by myself, making a meal for my Dom.” She confesses.

“Well then, after we finish our performance, you and I can go back to my place, it’s only a few blocks away, and we can cook dinner. Does that sound good?” She blushes and nods. You cup her cheeks, brushing the pads of your thumbs across her cheeks, loving the feeling of her smooth skin beneath your tips. “I’m going to take care of you, Wanda. We have a long night ahead of us. While others perform until it’s our turn, luckily they saved us for last, we’ll be going around the club and introducing you to our clientele. I’ll introduce you as my pet or plaything. You have no name to them, at least as a sub. Well, even as a Domme, I shouldn’t have a name, but they all know me out there, so they call me by my name.” You let her know, and she’s listening intently.

“Yes...uh...”

“Miss, Mistress, Master, Sir, Mommy. Whichever you prefer. I love all of them.”

“Yes...Mommy.” you smiled at her, running your fingers through her hair.

“My good baby.” I haven’t felt like this since her. It's been so long since you thought you'd never feel like this with a partner again. “How about we get you all dressed up, pretty girl. As much as I love this outfit you’ve chosen. I’d like you in something a little different.” You smirk, and she nods happily, ready and willing to follow.

You get her dressed in a red lace lingerie set with black accents and roses over it, along with garter belts and a pair of black thigh highs. You get her all fixed up and dolled up. “There’s a pretty girl.” You put your thumb and middle finger on either side of her chin. “I can’t wait to have you screaming later.” You tease as you grab a little lacey red and black collar for her to match that you put on her, a little tag hanging from it that says ‘Property of Y/N/N’

“Y/N/N?” Wanda questions.

“My nickname. It feels more personal than one that has my Domme title. Besides, I have like six that I rotate through. My nickname is always permanent.” You explain, and her biting her lip and blushing doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

≈≈≈

“Y/N, Miss. Romanoff wants you on stage for a solo.” MJ, Natasha’s ‘assistant’ tells me, you internally and externally groan, rolling your neck. You're about to throw a tantrum when Tasha rounds the corner, giving you her signature look.

“Yeah, no. I’m having none of your attitude after ghosting us for a week. You’ll go up there, and you WILL have a good time. You’ll show your pet just how much fun solos can be. Do I make myself clear? Unless you want a punishment tonight?” Tasha asks, and it just makes you want to groan more. She grabs your face tightly, nails digging in, making you hiss. You aren't in the head space for that as you pull away.

“Okay Tasha I get it. I’m not in a sub state of mind, so can you lay off.” You bite at her. Tasha was your oldest friend. Older than Kate and who you met in high school. Tasha and you go back to diapers, which is why she puts up with your bullshit at times and other times knowing when you need to be put in your place. Tasha and you have fucked around, you have for years, it was always a good time when you needed to not think for six or more hours.

“Then act like it. I set up your Playlist.”

“Okay fine. Let’s go, pet.” You tug on the leash that is attached to the collar around her neck. When you get in front of the stage, you turn to Wanda. “Sit.” She sits front and center on the floor. “Good girl. Watch me.”

“Who’s ready for some good entertainment!?” You call out, you're back to the crowd as they roar back as ‘Hey Look Ma, I Made it’ starts playing, and you're taking over the stage. Suddenly, you're a whole other person. Captivating everyone, locking eyes, you dance and sing around. Next plays ‘Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off’ and you smirk, looking at Wanda as you crawl over to her. So long as you don’t pull her up on the stage it’s still a solo performance. Tasha doesn’t have rules about involving audience members so long as they don’t come on the stage.

You fuck with her almost the whole song as you move around, touching yourself, moaning out as the crowd roars, money finding it’s way to the stage as you practically get yourself off in front of them. As the song crescendos, you feel an orgasm rack through your body as you lock eyes with Wanda, watching her squirm, thighs so tightly pressed against each other, and you smirk at her as your performance ends. Collecting your earnings and bowing as you get off the stage, grabbing Wanda’s leash and pulling her.

“Let’s go. Now.” You pull her back to your dressing room, locking the door behind you. “Strip. Now.” She seems taken aback by it as you start taking off the little clothes you had left after your performance. She starts doing the same, and once you're both undressed, you push her back onto the bed in your dressing room. Moving yourself between her thighs, which are covered in her juices, you can smell her, and you feel hazy from how good she smells. Without asking you dive right in, letting your tongue swipe over her folds as she moans out, you moan out at how good she tastes, so fucking sweet,

“Ah! M-Mommy!” You flick both your tongue and your eyes up at her. Watching as her face twists in pleasure, expertly working your tongue over her and sucking on her clit. “Please...”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.” you smirk at her words.

“Oh you can do better than that pet. Go on, beg for it.”

“Please Mommy fuck me with your fingers! Please fill me up with your fingers and make me cum until I can’t think!” you do as asked and push two fingers inside making her moan out as she grabs your hair, rutting against your face as you lay your tongue out flat for her to ride against as you pump your fingers in her. “F-Faster..Harder...” She’s whimpering and so you add a third finger making it a little harder to move as her walls clench around your slender digits.

“Oh good girl, so tight for Mommy. Are you going to cum from Mommy’s fingers?”

“Yes Mommy!”

“Did you enjoy my performance pet?”

“Yes Mommy!”

“Did you want to touch yourself when you saw me like that?”

“Yes Mommy! I wanted to touch myself. I wanted to crawl on stage and eat you and please you and...ah...Mommy.” Her words sent fire to your core.

“Cum.” you tell her and moments later she’s unraveling in front of you. A moaning, whimpering, mewling mess. “Good girl...so good for Mommy.” you lick up what you can off your face, moaning once more at the taste as you move up, brushing your thumb across her bottom lip, “Open.” She opens her mouth allowing your fingers inside as she looks you in the eye, cleaning them. “Mmmm fuck...” you felt that familiar feeling in your chest as your eyes bore into each other, the feelings she was sending through you. You knew what this was and you don’t think you've ever fallen faster.

“More?” you laugh a bit at her request.

“Oh you’ll get plenty during our performance, pretty girl. Don’t worry Mommy’s going to take good care of you.”

≈≈≈

When Wanda stood, she was taller than you, which meant on stage she'd be kept on her knees. You made sure she had on knee pads since we'd be performing for over an hour.

“Hello out there to all you lovely people! Welcome to the last performance of the night here at The Red Room!” Of course, there were some people making disheartening noises. “Don't you worry my pet and I will make sure that this is a performance you can go home later and think about while you fuck yourselves!” you call out as you get things ready. “Now my pet is new. It is her first performance tonight. Shall I go easy on her?” A roar of no's came from the crowd. “Well I'm glad it's not up to you. I'm going to give her everything she wants and needs. When I'm done with her she's going to be a dumb slut with no thoughts.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth, signaling Wanda to come out, crawling as she makes her way to me. Before your performance you told her to keep her eyes on you unless you told her otherwise. Mostly to help with her nerves. When she got to your legs she nuzzled into them. Yoi ran your fingers through her hair.

“I'd like everyone to meet my new pet to those who didn't get the opportunity earlier. She's a sweet little plaything, and I'm going to break her so good before your eyes tonight.” You look down at Wanda and smile as you grip her hair, pulling as she mewls. You loved hearing her sounds. She looked up at you, eyes already blown with lust just from the eyes on her.

You get her up on the bed we have up on the stage. It has this amazing bathroom blanket for any messes that are made, which is amazing.

“Strip.” She does as told, taking off her lingerie set you put her in, leaving her in only your collar, you smiled down at her. “Tão bonita.(So beautiful)” You speak in Portuguese, which throws her off momentarily, not knowing what you've said to her.

You grab the ropes and start tying her up expertly. Doing your signature pentagram harness, whispering as you tighten the ropes down her arms, “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes Mommy.” You smile and kiss her neck, nibbling and making sure you mark her up. She's yours. No one else is taking her from you.

You have her kneeling for you, back arched perfectly as the vibrator sits against her clit and you pound into her with your 8 inch strap. “Who are you?” you ask, grabbing her hair, pulling her against your chest.

“Mommy’s dumb little cock slut!” She cries out. You’ve been edging her for just about an hour. Every time she's come close you stop everything and whisper sweet nothings in her ears. All the makeup she's put on is ruined and staining her cheeks from the tears in her eyes. “You look so cute when you cry, amor.”

“M-Mommy please…can't take n’more. Cum Mommy?” She was begging and mewling as you left marks over her back. You push all 8 inches back inside, bottoming out as you push her face down into the mattress.

“My fucking slut wants to cum?” you ask.

“Yes! Yes, Mommy! Please! Please, Mommy! Wan’cum on Mommy's cock!”

“Go on slut. Cum all over my cock.” Wanda cums on your command, shaking intensely as she squeezes so tight it's hard to move, but the friction is enough to get you off. “F-fuck!” you moan out as you bottom out inside her and rutt against her as she collapses beneath you. Completely engulfed in subspace as I slowly pull out of her.

“Thank you, everyone. I hope you enjoyed my pet's first performance and any further tips are always appreciated.” You say with a bow as various customers and clients leave us tips on the stage. You leave Steve, who cleans up the stage between performances to clean it up as you untie Wanda, the rope marks deep in her skin, more marks from me. You toss aside the strap after the curtain has closed and pick Wanda up. She's taller than you, but you're strong enough to do this much as you take her back to your dressing room. Laying her down on your bed as you grab comfy clothes of sweatpants and a baggy shirt for her. Throwing leggings and a sweatshirt on yourself, not bothering with anything else for us besides shoes. “Let's go to my house, amor. Can you walk?” You ask, and she nods, but almost falls when she tries to stand on her own. “I've got you. Come on, let's go get you that aftercare.” You have your arm around her waist as you walk out.

You set Wanda up on your countertop as she figured out a recipe to make and you counted out your tips dividing it in half.

“Here you go, amor. Your half.” You hand it to her,

“How much is it?” She asks, eyes coming off the screen as she looks at the wad I'm handing her.

“$750. Don't expect it every time. Our performance was new, and people were excited. I've had nights where I only make $50. Either way, though, just remember that there's always tomorrow.” You tell her.

“Y/N?”

“hmm?”

“How long have you done this for?” She asks, and you notice how she is now coming back fully as she looks around your penthouse.

“10 years.”

“How old are you?”

“28. I've been doing this since I was 18. Natasha and I go way back to being in diapers. Our parents were friends growing up. Tasha is a few years older than me and established the club while I finished up high school. Once I turned 18, she let me join the club.” Wanda nodded, listening.

“How many-”

“Too many. I'd rather not think about that, okay, amor?” You had cut her off. You didn't want to think about past partners. All you wanted was her at this moment.

You move between her legs, kissing gently over the marks you've left on her neck. “I only want to think about you right now.” You admit against her neck, and you feel her relax.

“I'm okay with that.” You smiled against her neck.

“How about we make some pasta? I've got a carb craving right now.” you ask, looking up at her. Though I'd be dominant all night, looking up at her from between her legs just felt right.

“Sounds good to me.” She cupped your cheeks and leaned down, pulling you up so your lips met, and you melted a bit. She was perfect.

The two of you were curled up on your couch watching sitcoms. You had found out they were Wanda's favorites. You were lying down. You were laying on her mainly because she pulled you in this way. “Shhh I wanna hold you.” Had been her response, and you didn't argue with her. Laying here with your head on her chest, hearing her heartbeat as she gently scratched my scalp eventually lulled you to sleep.

#ley speaks #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #ley writes #wanda x reader #wanda x you #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fluff #subby!wanda #dom!reader

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yuriisclumsy · 2 months ago

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hii!! can I request cale with a s/o who's high on anaesthesia? like they see cale for the first time, and they're already rambling about how pretty he is– only to find out they're married!! to him!! she tells everyone (who is willing to listen) about her pretty husband and how she's lucky to have him^^ thank youu

We’re…Married?

[Authors Note]: Hi guys! I'm back into making Cale x Reader request! At least for the ones I have on my inbox, until I get out of the authors block I have for my Genshin series. PS. This request is back from July...

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 735

»»►AWWWEE this is adorable. I want to keep it in a box and bury it 7 feet underneath.

»»►Okay, for this, I want it to stay in the fantasy setting since I don’t really like writing modern AUs. So, there will be some kind of herb that is used that has the same effect as anesthesia.

»»►As for why she had to take it. Let us say she had to get surgery for a broken bone she fractured because she ran and fell off a hill. Don’t ask me how this happened, because I don’t know either.

The sun’s rays shine through curtains, bringing light to the already dim room. They softly hit the face of a red-head that had fallen asleep on a chair instead of his warm bed.

The reason he hadn’t slept in his bed was for one small, lovable–his words not mine–dork he had grown to love; his wife: You.

And the only red-head who was insane enough to marry you was none other than Cale Hanituse.

Cale stared at your resting face with a neutral face. What else could he do, other than wait for his lovely wife to wake up?

Unbelievable… The moment I look away, she’s gone and clumsily stumbled down a mountain and off a cliff. Honestly, when will I get some rest from this girl? the man thought as he closed his eyes, getting irked at the memory of you falling off the cliff for the third time.

It was getting repetitive…and annoying.

“Hmmgh…” the sound of sheets shuffling made him open his eyes to see the movement.

“[Name]?” asked Cale. “Are you awake?” He gently leaned towards you to check. His hand moved away the messy hair on your forehead to get a better look. You slowly open your eyelids and see a handsome young man touching you.

“You’re awake… Took you long enough,” Cale said, still combing your hair straight.

You pushed his hand away. “..Don’T tOucH mE…I haVe a HusBaND…” you say with a growly voice.

Clearly, the herb that was used to sedate you was still in your system.

“[Name], stop. You’re still delirious and can’t differentiate what-for-what,” Cale tried to reason with you. But everyone knows that you can’t debate with someone that truly isn’t here.

“nO! yUO aRe An ImPOsTeR..!” You semi-yelled at him. “WhErE iS my HusBanD, yOu tHieF!”

Cale sighted at your idiocy. He found the way you argued rather adorable... Ahh, that’s beside the point!

“[Name],” he grabbed you by the shoulders to ground you as you squirmed, “I am your husband.”

“Wu-huh?” Your anger was now replaced with confusion and a stupid expression. “Whut?”

“I’m your husband,” Cale repeated. “The man you swore to be with the rest of your life, remember?”

“HUuuhhh??” The stupid expression you wore was now filled with reds. “We’Re…mArRieD?”

“Yes. Look,” he made you look at both your hands that had the wedding bands. “See? Married. For all of eternity.”

“..ThAt’S A LooOoNg tIMe…”

“I know,” Cale nodded at your comment, “do you…like the sound of that?” He shouldn't be asking this, in case the answer he hears isn't something he wanted to hear from you, but he had to. Curiosity dug deep within his heart.

You remained silent. This only printed Cale to regret his question. He’ll need to live with this for the rest of his life now.

“You don’t have to answer tha—”

“I do…”

Cale’s eyes widened. “What was that? Sorry, I couldn’t hear…” He had to make sure he heard right.

“I sAid…” you grabbed him by either side of his face and brought him closer to your face, “I. DO.”

He stared at you for a second before smiling, and then laughing at your antics. “Hehehe… I get, I get it…” Cale grabbed both your arms. “You need rest. Especially after the surgery on your left arm.”

“Surgery…?” You slowly ask, then your gaze follows his gaze at the arm he mentioned and loudly gasp, “WHAT IS THIS?”

There was a cast on the arm he said there was a surgery for.

Cale looked a bit confused. “Did you not realize there was a cast on your arm? [Name], how unaware can you be?” he flicked your forehead.

“OW–”

“Now, down you go. Off to the land of dreams,” he helped you get comfy in bed. “I’ll wake you up when dinner breakfast is ready, it’s still early in the morning.”

“Kay…” you yawned, ready to go back to the dream you left. “Night…”

“Good night…” Cale got back to lay in the chair he had slept all night in.

He snatched the blanket that had fallen off of him, and wrapped himself with it. As he was ready to take a quick nap before breakfast, he heard your voice creep up in the silence.

“..Cale…?”

“Yes?”

“I love you,” you say before falling asleep.

“...” he looked at your peaceful face and cracked a small smile, he whispered, “I love you too…”

Fin

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#cale henituse x reader #cale henituse #trash of the count's family x reader #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #lout of the count's family x reader #reader input #x reader #manhwa x reader #totcf #manhwa #manhwa fanfic #reader insert

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lolaxbunnyy · 10 months ago

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IDK IF YOU STILL DO MY HERO ACADEMIA AS IM NEW- but I love your writing so

What about poly Bakugo, Deku, Todoroki x Fem!reader who’s nine months pregnant, due any day now. She’s about to go into labor but they’re not home due to a mission

Idk if I explained this well 💀

also I hope this is good enough I haven’t been on here in a while 😬 . Also I gave the baby a name and a gender if you want something else then you can feel free to change it. Also if anybody has anything they would like me to write please ask!

warnings: fem black reader, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of birth, nothing bad though just enjoy.

SHOTO, IZUKU, AND KATSUKI. The top three most amazing and well known pro heros who were well loved by their fans had a little secret. They had a pretty little wife who was carrying one of their babies. Katsuki decided that he was going to be the one to get her pregnant first, the other two had no problem with that. After months of trying and no show she was finally pregnant and all four of them were so happy to finally have their first kid.

It’s been 9 months already and their precious baby girl has yet to leave her place within her mamas tummy.

Y/N rubbed her swollen belly as she did her rotations on her exercise ball. Katsuki’s mom was here helping her out with the little things that she needed. Mitsuki loved her from the moment Katsuki introduced them and now that she’s going to have a little grandchild she was even more happy with her future daughter in law.

"Y/N honey. The boys are calling again."Mitsuki said as she walked in from the kitchen to the living room rolling her eyes. “This is the fourth time they’ve called in the last hour.” Mitsuki chuckled.

"They're so worried that you're going to pop before they get back." Y/N grabbed the phone from, Mitsuki’s hand and put it up to her ear.

“Hello?” “Hey, baby. You doing okay?” Y/N rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her. “Yes I’ve been okay since the last time you called.” She heard him chuckle. “Okay. You’re a little worked up. What happened? Sick of us calling?” Y/N giggled. “Nope, never. I can’t even miss or worry about you guys because you’re too busy calling all the time instead of focusing on your task that you three were sent to do.” Before Izuku could respond she heard the faint voice of someone talking to him. “Oi? Is that Curls?” Katsuki of course.

Y/N heard what sounded like the phone being snatched away from Izuku. “Oi, Curls! If you ever hand up in my face again we’re gonna have some problems when I get back home, you hear me?” Y/N chuckled. “Yes sir.” She heard the blonde kiss his teeth before handing the phone back to Izuku.

“Sorry, bout that. Anyways you’ve got some scolding to do to Katsuki anyways.” “Don’t you dare tell her about that!” She could tell Izuku rolled his eyes. “He was being careless today and almost lost his leg.” Katsuki grumbled. “ ‘Was not bein’ fuckin’ careless. ��The hell was I s’posed to know he was gonna turn his leg in to a fuckin’ chain saw?!” Y/N pursed her lips. “Y’know if you two are done bickering we have matters to attend too.”

Shoto said out of nowhere. “That’s right. Well baby, look like we gotta go. We’ll see you next week, hopefully.” Katsuki butted in. “Yeah so tell the brat to avoid her eviction notices till then.” Y/N laughed. “I’m sure she heard you, Kat. I’ll see you boys next week. I love you.” “We love you more baby.” Then the phone clicked and the call was over.

Y/N sighed. She truly did miss them. Sure she enjoyed the company of her soon to be in laws, but she missed her boys. It was quiet and peaceful while they were away and she hated that. The bed was always cold and empty and she also hated that but it still smelled of them and she could at least appreciate that. So did the large shirt that she borrowed from Shoto’s side of the closet.

The boys had already been gone for two weeks and they’d be back home next week but it doesn’t feel like Blossom can wait any longer to be out in the world. Her eyes trailed over towards the belly cast that she had gotten done. The boys had decorated it all pretty and even drew a little family of four on it in Katsuki’s terrible excuse of a drawing. She’d never tell him that though because even if it was bad it’s still cute and still has meaning to it. She can still even feel their careful hands on her stomach.

Izuku’s hands are the most scarred and a little calloused but still firm and calming. Katsuki’s hands being the most calloused and somehow a bit sweaty from time to time. Sho’s hands were the softest but were always cold.

She missed the special treatment and massages they’d give her before they left. They were very caring and spoiling.

It’s been like this since they’ve found out that she was pregnant. They couldn’t be home for her, they had their moms take care of her. Then when they came home for the night, they’d be all over her because in their words, “you look so cute when you’re pregnant.”

She smiled softly at Mitsuki as she smelled the cooking of her favorite food. It’s getting later and later and there was a storm outside brewing. She didn’t want her poor boys caught outside in the rain.

"Y/N, Inko sent some more clothes for Blossom." Mitsuki smiled as she handed them to her. “Awe. We’re going to run out of space in her little closets.” Y/N held the shirt to her stomach. “Do you like it, B?�� Y/N suddenly winced at a sharp pain in her stomach. “Okay, I’ll put it away.” But the pain kept coming. Mitsuki helped Y/N up carefully and at that very moment, her water broke.

Mitsuki immediately started to call phones. "Inko, Rei! It's happening! I need you here now! The babies coming!"

Mitsuki was rushing around the house to get the bags ready and extra clothes before helping her soon to be daughter in law towards the car.

Once they arrived after some time Mitsuki rushed in to get a nurse and she came back with a nurse who had a wheelchair ready and the both of them helped Y/N out of the car in to the chair and she was wheeled in and rushed towards the maternity floor. They put her in a room and went to go get things ready for her.

“Where the fuck are they going?!” Y/N whimpered out as one if her hands held her stomach while her other arm was draped across her face. Rei and Inko walked in. "They're going to get everything ready. More doctors and your epidural for your pain, Honey."Inko responded and Y/N hummed in pain.

“Did you call the boys?” Rei asked and Mitsuki nodded her head as she tried to get Y/N comfortable and situated. "Yes but they're not answering. I think they're too busy in what they're doing."

Rei let out a soft okay before looking at the clock on the wall. 12:03 AM it read. A nurse came back in and injected her with the medicine but it didn’t have time to do its job because right after the doctors came in and it was time for her baby girl to come out in to the world.

Everything went smoothly. (beside the three mothers having to stop Y/N from attacking the nurse. Twice. First time because if her giving her the epidural late and second because the bitch almost dropped her baby.) when Blossom was all cleaned up it was about. 2:19 when Y/N got to hold her baby and feed her.

She was so pretty. Her skin was a mix between Y/N and Katsuki and her hair was blonde and straight but Y/N was sure that her curls would come in soon. Last but not least her eyes her round and (e/c) just like her moms as she looked up at her through her blonde eyelashes. The three mothers huddled around Y/N to look at their granddaughter. "Awe. She's so pretty." Inko cooed softly. “I’ve got to get pictures.” Rei gushed and both her and Inko rushed to their purses to get their phone out while Mitsuki stayed by Y/N.

"Do you want me to get her so you can rest?" “Yes please, if you don’t mind.” Mitsuki took Blossom and soon after, Y/N was knocked out.

Izuku was the last person to get out of the bath for that morning. They’d been up since midnight going on a fake lead, practically wasting their time all night. Izuku grabbed what he thought was his phone but noticed that it was Katsuki’s. “Hey, Kachaan? You’ve got 10 missed calls from your mom.” Katsuki raised an eyebrow as he set down his freshly cooked spicy ramen.

He went to his call log and clicked on his mom’s name in face time. "Hello?" His mom’s face showed in the camera. “You called 10 times?” He said unamused. Thinking that it was just her being worried and paranoid again. "Well, I needed to tell you something." Katsuki hummed. “Kay?” The camera flipped around and Katsuki saw blonde hair then the phone fell to the floor as his mom let out an agitated ‘damn it’ before picking it up and a sleeping baby was shown.

“Is that?” "Yep." Inko cut off her son. “That’s Blossom guys!” The boys mouths dropped. Their daughter was so pretty just like her mommy. After that face time call that day the boys had to call off the mission to get home to their girls immediately.

Y/N was released from the hospital two days before they could come home so when they made it back they instantly without a second thought came straight home and they finally got to see their daughter. Blossoms little hair started to curl up a little so she most definitely started to look like Y/N.

Katsuki was the first to hold her and she was so small Katsuki feared that he might break her. Izuku and Shoto walked towards Katsuki, standing on either side of him as they looked down at their daughter. “She most definitely looks like a Blossom.” Shoto spoke softly as the little baby curiously looked at the three men.

Their moms smiled at them. "Congrats boys!" Mitsuki had tears in her eyes as little sniffles came out. "Oh my goodness. I'm finally a grandma! I'm never gonna get over this!" She cried into Inko’s shoulder and Inko patted her back comfortingly. “I wanna hold her next.” Izuku held his arms out and Katsuki carefully handed Blossom to him. Once he was secure in his arms, Katsuki turned towards Y/N.

He smiled softly and he walked over towards her giving her a kiss on her cheek. He watched the others coo over the little blonde haired baby.

“Thank you so much, baby.” Three months later, the world knew about their two girls after Izuku had posted a video of Blossom giggling away at Katsuki and Shoto making silly faces at her while Y/N just watched in the background with a big smile on her face. That video was the most brought up topic in their latest interviews and they didn’t mind at all telling the world about their girls.

this story belongs to @lolaxbunnyy !!

#anime x black!reader #anime #anime x you #black reader #x reader #todoroki x fem!reader #bakugou x black female reader #bakugou x female reader #todoroki x black!reader #izuku x black!reader #izuku x reader #todobakudeku x reader #pregnant reader #poly relationship

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boldlyvoid · 11 months ago

Text

Snowed In

18+ Aaron Hotchner x Fem Reader

Summary: what happens when you're the last two in the office on Christmas Eve and the roads are closed due to an unexpected blizzard?

Warnings: divorced touch starved hotch, Agent reader, blizzards, alone at Quantico, cuddling, flirting, making out, face sitting, munch hotch, teasing, p in v smut, soft dom hotch, spit, biting, fluffy aftercare

word count: 5.3k

The weather forecast for Christmas Eve didn’t look nice… but you can’t really call out of work at the FBI for ugly weather when there are terrible people out there to catch. And, unlike everyone else who thought it would be smart to head home before the storm, she had paperwork to do.

So by the time her last file was closed, the roads were too.

The power was still on, and it would stay on thanks to the generator at Quantico and the best part was that the kitchen was newly stocked with snacks.

She wandered down to the floor 6 break room, which just so happened to be in the BAU bullpen. Everyone had gone home, the desks were empty and the only lights on were in the kitchen area. She took out a mug, flicked on the kettle and started to make herself some toast with one of the many Jams in the fridge. She’s so caught up in her snack that she doesn’t hear a door open, or someone walking down the steps towards her until he's taking a deep breath and scaring the daylights out of her.

“Oh god,” she jumps, hand on her chest as she turns to him. “Agent Hotchner…”

“Agent Y/L/N,” he smiles. “Sorry, I thought you knew I was still here.”

“I figured you went home to your wife—

“Ex-wife,” he sighs, showing his ringless hand. “She has our son this year, I thought I’d catch up on some work and then the snowstorm got… well, you see,” he points to the big glass windows covered in snow.

“It hasn’t snowed like this here in years,” she shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe we're stuck here…”

“Well, it’s not like there’s nothing to do,” he teases. “We have a TV, lots of snacks, the power won’t go out on us so it’ll stay warm in here and Daves got a cot in his office if you need a place to sleep…”

“Oh, thank you,” she’s shocked he’s thinking about her like that. “I didn’t even think about that part.”

“you’re just hungry?” He teases. “What are you making?”

“Tea and toast… you want some?” She asks, hopeful he’ll say yes.

He nods, “I’d love some.”

They work around the kitchen like a team. She makes the toast, he makes their tea and they share exactly how they like theirs done… and there's a hope in her heart that maybe this is just the first time she makes him a breakfast meal. She’s always found him handsome, everyone in the bureau had, honestly. Not only is he good-looking, he’s strong and smart and kind until he can’t be anymore. And when he’s mean, even that’s a little sexy.

He invites her up to his office where she finds he’s been sitting on his couch, his laptop on his desk, watching old episodes of Fraser… “seriously?” She can’t believe it.

He blushes a bit, “it’s a good show. I have every season on DVD and this laptop has a disk drive, so…”

“Honestly, I’ve never really watched it,” she shrugs. “What season are you on?”

“The first one, I can start it from the beginning again?”

“No, it’s okay,” she waves it off. “I think I can catch up, you’ll just have to explain some things to me.”

And so he does, he gives a rundown of the first few episodes. Who Fraser is, his weird brother, his dad and their dad's helper— who his brother eventually falls in love with. It’s a good show. It’s funny, she gets to see Hotch smirk and sometimes, actually, giggle… it’s something she’s not used to.

In the handful of times she’s worked with the BAU on things, Agent Hotchner has never cracked a smile. Episode after episode, he gets happier and friendlier and she takes that as an invitation to move in closer and closer until their shoulders are touching. And then he lifts his arm to rest it on the back of the couch and she’s even closer to him. His tie is off, his first two buttons are undone… he’s comfortable and handsome as ever and it takes everything in her to watch the show and not stare at him.

“Do you want to watch another?” He asks in a hushed tone, just for her to hear— as if they weren’t completely alone here.

She nods, “I can do another.”

“Cool,” he smiles ever so softly and goes to get up so he can switch the disk to access another 4 episodes.

She watches him take out the old disk, put it back in the case and take out the new one. He places it in the tray, closes the disk drive and watches as it loads up to the title screen again. He hits play, and makes his way back to the couch with a sigh, placing his arm on the back again, just as close to her as last time.

“This is really nice,” she compliments. “Thanks for making this night fun for me.”

“I’m actually really glad someone else got snowed in here too,” he teases.

“I really thought I was alone in here,” she sighs. “I’m so happy I’m not…”

“Are you happy it’s me?”

She can’t help but smirk, “Yeah… alone time with Agent Hotchner wasn’t something I ever expected to get.”

“Would you want more?” He asks, staring at her lips. “I mean—

“Yes,” she cuts him off. “If I knew you were single I would’ve asked before…”

“It’s only been 6 months, we haven’t worked together since then,” he reminds her. “I haven’t— I haven’t even tried to spend time with someone else, yet.”

“But you think you’re ready?”

He shrugs, “I— I think you’re pretty and you’re nice and we’re here and we’re having a good time…”

“So are you asking me on a date hotchner, or do you want to bone in your office?”

He laughs, “Bone? Seriously?”

“Canoodle, bang, bump uglies, fuck,” she lets out all the slang and he laughs again, good and hard and it’s beautiful.

She cups his face and he pauses for a moment, “I think I’d like to start with just kissing you.”

“Okay,” she breathes out as she leans in to kiss him.

He’s so gentile. His lips are soft, and he’s tentative and reserved. He keeps his hands to himself and lets her set the pace. She never would’ve guessed that making tea and close proximity would lead to kissing the most handsome man she’d ever known in her entire life. When their tongues meet, he finally reaches out for her. Holding her side, he grips her just enough to make her crave more. She moves in closer, desperate to throw her leg over him and sit in his lap… but it’s him who initiates it.

He tugs her in, helps her settle in his lap and wraps both his hands around her to cradle her body against his. She sighs against him, making him smile into the kiss. She smiles too, coping his face she pulls back to look at him, “I didn’t expect Frasier to be the show that rials you up like this…”

“Well… tossed salads and scrambled eggs are both euphemisms,” he teases.

“How so?”

He lets out a deep breath through his nose like he doesn’t want to explain it. “The phrase ‘toss my salad’ is slag referring to rim jobs— or really any kind of oral pleasure, I guess…”

“Oh,” she wasn’t expecting that in the slightest. “And I guess scrambled eggs is how he likes his eggs done in the morning?”

He nods, “who knows, really? The theme song has never actually been explained but… how do you like your eggs in the morning?”

“Why? It’s not like you can make me some in the morning,” she teases.

“Maybe, when the roads are better we can go get breakfast?” He offers.

“I thought the whole point of the saying was that you’re supposed to make them for me?” She stares him down, hoping to make him laugh… she gets a smirk and a shake of his head as he tries to hold it in.

“I will make you breakfast, at one of our places, the first chance I get,” he assures. “If… if that’s something you’d like?”

She nods, “Yes, Aaron, I would love to get to know you more, and spend time with you and see where this goes… I’m literally in your lap right now dying to see what we get up to.”

“Dying to?” He couldn’t believe those were her words. “Why?”

She runs her fingers through his hair and then traces down the side of his neck and watches her hands as they trail over his shirt to rest on his chest. “When you look in the mirror in the mornings, do you plan on being the sexiest agent in the building or is this all just a happy accident?”

He blushes, “I mean, I don’t really plan it— I just put something on and come to work.”

She just shakes her head and sucks her tongue, “Well I guess now I have to show you just how handsome you are every single day.”

“And how would you do that?” He asks, gripping her hips a little tighter.

She leans in and kisses him softly, “You’re so handsome.” She kisses his cheek, “And pretty…” She kisses his jaw, “And cute…” he starts to smile and blush uncontrollably.

As she goes lower with her kisses, she works on his third shirt button, exposing a bit more of his chest so she can drag her tongue over his collarbone— which makes him toss his head back and whine. “Oh god, you’re so sexy,” she praises. “I want to hear more of your pretty noises.”

“So we’re doing this?” He asks, looking nervous.

She smiles softly and looks him in the eyes. “Only if you want to, baby,” she whispers. “We can do whatever you’re most comfortable doing, I’m sure this is going to be weird venturing into a new experience for the first time in so long, but we can go as far as you want and stop the moment you don’t want to do it anymore, okay?”

He nods, “Thank you.”

“And if you want to stop we can go right back to cuddling and watching the show and we can still go on that breakfast date,” she assures him. “I’m going to want to do that no matter what happens, okay? I like you, not what I can get from you.”

“You’re so nice,” he swoons a bit. “Seriously, why are you so nice to me?”

“you’re a good man, I’ve enjoyed working with you… and looking at you,” she teases. “But in all seriousness, you deserve someone to be gentile with you, you’re only so stone-faced at work to protect yourself, I get that, but you deserve some softness too.”

“I had a feeling you’d be sweet to me,” he whispers, breaking his walls down for her. “I’ve wanted to do this… I’ve wanted to break out of my shell and be with someone new and forget about how much my wife—my ex-wife broke my heart, but I’ve been scared.”

“It’s a scary thing,” she sympathizes. “But if you want me to be the first one you're with, I’ll be so good to you. I’m going to take care of you and make it fun and easy and soft and-and even if you get emotional or it’s too much, I’m not going to hold it against you.”

“I want to do this,” he nods, staring at her lips. “I want it to be you who I start over with.”

“I want to be that for you,” she cups his cheek again and smiles. “Thank you for picking me, Aaron.”

“Um… I don’t have any condoms,” he warns. “There might be some in Dave's room… maybe Derek's desk?”

She laughs, “I have some in my purse upstairs, I can go get them?”

He nods, “Yeah, that would be good and then I can turn this sofa into a bed while you’re gone.”

“Okay,” she goes to get off him but then stops herself, she leans in and steals on last kiss and he smiles into it. “Sorry, I needed another.”

“You can have a million more when you get back,” he keeps smiling, overjoyed with his choice.

—

He has about 6 minutes of freakout time while she goes to get her purse. He turns the couch into a bed, having a sleeper sofa in here was a blessing for nights like these… and when his wife kicked him out. He untucks his shirt and then re-tucks it and pulls it out again, he thinks about unbuttoning it and laying on the couch or maybe waiting for her at the elevator doors— he’s so nervous he has no idea what to do with his hands or his body.

He wanders around the room and talks himself into meeting her at the bullpen doors just as she’s walking up the couple stairs to his office. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi,” she smiles so beautifully. “You know you can still back out?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t want to… I’m just nervous. I haven’t done this in a while.”

“How long?” She asks.

“Since the last time with my ex-wife or with someone new?”

“Either?” She’s simply curious.

“My ex-wife was my first and only… and I haven’t been with her in almost 8 months now.”

“You know you could have anyone in this office in a heartbeat if you wanted to,” she reminds him. “You’re the most handsome agent in the whole FBI— just don’t tell Morgan I said that.”

He laughs, “Thank you.”

“This is cute,” she motions over to his sleeper sofa. “You want to cuddle and make out a bit, again?” She asks while kicking off her shoes and she does the same thing, making it easier for when they shed all their clothes later.

He nods and pulls her in close, “Kissing you has been the best part of my day.”

“Well, let me make it even better,” she teases, leaning in and connecting their lips once more.

It’s just as heated as before, only now his hands are on her lower back and he’s so tempted to grab her ass… so he does, he hauls her up so she can wrap her legs around him and he knees on the end of the bed. He lays her down, still kissing her while he attempts to hover over her— but she wants more.

She grips his hips and pulls him down flush against her, so she can wrap her legs around him once more. And by wrapping herself completely around him, he suddenly feels at home. His nervousness dies off, his apprehension to experience something new and different and unlike himself diminishes to nothing and he’s able to enjoy this.

He wraps his right arm around her, trapped between her and the mattress, while his left-hand cradles her head. He kisses her with passion and care and she gives the same energy right back… if not more so as she moans into his mouth. He pulls back with a smile, “you like kissing me that much?” He teases with his newfound confidence.

“I mean yeah but do you not realize how hard you are against me? It feels amazing,” she explains, her legs wrapped around him still, she pushes him down against her core and has him grind against her once more. “You feel so good, baby.”

He was so in his head he didn’t even realize his other one was so active… he blushed a bit, “You like it?”

She nods, “If grinding with you all night is all I get, I’m going to leave a very happy camper.”

He leans in and kisses her cheek and then her jaw right up to her ear, “Oh, you’re getting more, believe me… so much more.”

She moans again and he takes that as enough incentive to keep kissing her there. He bites her earlobe gently and sucks on her neck just enough to stimulate her and yet not enough to leave a mark. Her hands search his back, feeling him up as he tenses from hovering over her and then releases when he drops his body weight against hers once more, and she sighs when he does that. She loves the feeling of him on top of her. It’s like he was meant to always be there.

He withdraws his hands from under her and grips her hips as he sits up, “can I unbutton your shirt?”

“You may,” she says, a look of excitement plastered over her face.

“I want to just rip it open but I know you don’t have another shirt to wear home tomorrow,” he teases. “and it’s just too pretty to ruin.”

“Hopefully you don’t feel the same way about me…”

“Oh no, that’s precisely why I need to ruin you,” he assures, making haste on her buttons, he leans back in and starts to kiss the newly exposed skin of her chest. Right between her boobs and down her tummy until her shirt is completely unbuttoned and all he has left to pop is the button on her pants.

Her tummy is so soft, that he gets inside her shirt and wraps his arm underneath her back to feel how warm she is and uses it as an excuse to undo her bra in the process. He pulls her forward and gets her out of her shirt and her bra and can’t help but stare down at her chest and then back up to her eyes, “mesmerizing.”

“My turn,” she whispers, “let's flip.”

He listens, laying on his back, she straddles his hips and leans down to kiss his neck while she undoes his shirt. Button by button, she gets him exposed just to press their naked chests together and kiss him right on the mouth once more. She hauls him forward so they’re both sitting up and she pushes the shirt off his shoulders so they can feel each other up.

He grips her hips and tugs her in, grinding her against his bulge once more. She breaks the kiss to kiss his jaw and down his neck, “mm, Aaron,” she pulls his attention from the kiss. “Lay back.”

“Okay,” he listens, leaning back and she reaches for his belt.

“Can I?”

He nods and so she starts to unbuckle him, she pops his button and pulls the zipper down so she can reach into his pants. She feels over his bulge, watching as he tosses his head back and bites his lip to hold back a moan. “Let it out baby,” she whispers. “A touch-starved man like you… come on, let me hear you.”

“It’s not the only thing I’m starved for,” he jokes, blushing again.

Her eyes widen as she pulls back, “oh yeah?”

He nods, he wants to go down on her so bad that his stomach flips with anticipation. “Please?”

She sits more on her knees and reaches for the button on her pants, “how do you want me?”

“Would you— if you want, I mean, you can pick but I’d like to—

“I can sit on your face,” she knows exactly what he was trying to ask.

In the same way, she liked feeling his weight on top of herself, he wanted to feel completely smothered by her pussy and thighs.

She pushes him back so he’s lying flat and climbs off the bed so she can take her pants and underwear off, shoes long gone, she’s in nothing but her socks as she climbs back onto the bed and straddles his chest.

He’s a little impatient, pulling her forward and wrapping his arms around her thighs, he gets her right where he wants her and kisses her right where her thigh meets her cunt. He eases into it, kissing her gently, whispering praise about how beautiful she is and how lucky he feels.

But then he looks up at her, “don’t be afraid to really sit, I can take it.”

“Tap me twice if you can’t,” she agrees and within seconds he’s going at her.

“Fuck,” she gasped as she leans forward to rest her arm against the wall behind the couch, grinding against his face, exactly the way he wanted it.

His tongue deep inside her, his nose nudging at her clit, he savours the way she tastes as if she hasn’t said she would be willing to do this again… and from her noises, he knows this experience just makes her want it again soon. He wants her to enjoy it, he’s always been more into making his partner enjoy it. This time it feels a bit more selfish, as the more she enjoys it the more she’d be willing to come back and the more he can do it. And he wants to eat her out for the rest of his life.

Her sounds are a price, her weight on top of him is magnificent and she’s absolutely delicious. And he hasn’t even gotten to the best part yet. Making her cum on his face is going to change his life.

When he inserts a finger, her legs start to tremble around him. She’s so close, he can tell. Sucking on her clit while he massages that wonderful spot inside of her with his middle finger, she moans so deeply it vibrates her whole being. She starts to chant his name, right on the edge of her orgasm, so he adds a second finger and the damn bursts.

She trembles harder than before, and a beautiful elongated moan leaves her mouth as she cums on his face. He’s quick to withdraw his fingers and replace them with his tongue, gathering it all with the most disgusting sounds he could ever make— but fuck, if she wasn’t the most delicious woman in the whole world.

He was so into her, so transfixed on getting her off that he didn’t realize he was grinding up against nothing and the largest precum stain had marked his boxers and surely was on the inside of his work pants.

“Aaron, Aaron, oh my god, stop, stop, holy fuck,” she makes him stop by pulls off him and sits down on the pillow beside his head. Hand to her chest to catch her breath, she melts against the mattress, “sweet Jesus?”

“I need to do that every chance I get,” he muses, so in love with how it went down. “You’re delicious.”

She laughs, placing her hand on his big bicep as she looks down at his glistening face, “I’m going to take you up on that all the time.”

“Merry fucking Christmas to me,” he teases as he sits up, noticing just how close he was that whole time.

His cock is strained against his boxers, soaking them around the elastic band, darkening the gray fabric so much that he feels a little embarrassed. She notices it too, but she smiles, “Oh, you really liked that, didn’t you?”

He nods, unable to say much.

“Come on, get your pants off, I think I’ve calmed down enough to take care of you now,” she assures.

He doesn’t have to be told twice. He gets off the bed and starts to take off his pants while she looks around for her own, “can you get the condom from my pocket?”

“Yeah,” he goes right for her pants right after his are off.

She just looks around the room, avoiding eye contact with his cock even though he knows she wants to look, “I didn’t even ask if you have cameras in here…”

He laughs, kneeling on the edge of the bed with the condom between his fingers, “No, I don’t. With all the confidential material I see in here and the conversations had in here, they didn’t put a camera in here. But there is one directly outside my office so they know you’re in here but they won’t know what you’re doing.”

“And who is this they you speak of?” She teases.

“Whoever watches the tapes but probably also Penelope… if she learns I was here all Christmas she will go back and look to see what I did,” he shakes his head with a loving smile. “She just cares a lot.”

“She’s the sweetest,” she agrees. “But thank fucking god no one can see what we’re doing… I’m glad this is just for us.”

“Mhm,” he hums, he gets between her legs and tugs her down the bed a bit so she’s lying with her head on the pillow, “they don’t need to see what’s about to happen.”

“although someone should teach more guys how to eat like that…”

He laughs again, leaning down to kiss her, “Then you’d have any guy you want and I'd rather be the only one for you.”

“Very true,” she says against his lips before pressing her lips against his.

They just kiss a couple times before he pulls back and sits on his knees once more, opening the condom and rolling it on. She finally takes a look at what he’s got going on between his legs and he sees her lick her lips while taking in a deep breath. “Fuck sake, you really are going to ruin me…”

He smirks, “Do you want me to? We could just have a sweet and slow—

“No, I need a good fucking, like the fuck my brains out kind,” she assures.

“It’s your lucky day,” he teases, running his hand over her inner thigh as he helps her spread them. “I can do that for you.”

“Do your worst—

“Oh no, it’ll be my best,” he says, gripping his cock and tapping it against her pussy. “You ready?”

“Please?” She begs, pleading with her beautiful eyes.

He slips in ever so slowly, letting her adjust to his girth as he leans over her. He caresses her face with one hand, holding himself up with his lover, watching her take it all in. Head tossed back, she bites her lip and then lets out a blissful sigh. She grips his sides, wanting to desperately pull him down on top of herself once more, but she waits until he’s fully inside.

“Oh my god?” She whines, “please move, I need more, please?”

He smirks, leaning in to kiss the side of her mouth as he starts to rock his hips. He wraps his arm under her as she pulls him in closer and moves her mouth so they can kiss for real. She moans against him as his rhythm changes, his hips speed up and she wraps her legs around him to get him even deeper inside her.

She feels so amazing, he almost forgot what it was like to fuck something other than his own hand. The way she flutters around him and grips him so tight, the feeling of her nails in his back and her tongue on his own. He’s in absolute heaven. So good in fact, he’s afraid he might not last as long as she deserves.

He reaches between them and rubs her clit with his thumb, moving his kisses to her neck and just below her ear, “doing so good, baby.”

“Holy fuck, Aaron,” she moans, tossing her head back and pushing her chest up.

He looks between them and can’t help himself, he kisses her chest and she looks down to see what he’s doing, he looks up to her for permission only to hear, “suck on them, please? Please, oh my god?”

He takes her nipple in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it before gently running his bottom teeth over the nib. She gasps, tightening around him which makes him moan with her nipple in his mouth. He brings up his other hand, using it to pinch her other nipple and she absolutely flutters around him, it’s everything.

When he lets go of her nipples, he reaches his hand under her knee and pushes her right leg up. The angle changes, he’s so much deeper now, hitting her right where she wants him again and again, he kisses the inside of her calf gently as she tosses her head back. She moans, tightening around him to the point he’s so sure he’s about to lose control.

He may be out of practice, but he’s not out of manners. He needs her to finish first.

Using all the power he has left, he keeps her leg up like that but adjusts himself so his pubic bone can rub against her swollen clit with each and every thrust. “More,” she spits out. “Please? ‘M so close.”

His hand slips down her leg, “I know baby,” he coos, keeping her stretched open, he just needs to get his thumb on her clit.

He stills for just a moment, gathers some spit in his mouth and drops it between them so it lands right on her clit to release the friction but then he picks right back up. She whines, sweating and her head tossed back, getting ruined just like she asked to be.

She somehow tightens around him again, and he’s so fucking close he feels like he could go insane. “you’re right there, sweet girl, let go when you’re ready,” he says through bated breath. So fucking close.

And that does it, she starts to tremble again, her core tightens and so does her grip on his arm. “Oh, Aaron!” She moans out a string of incoherent words follow as she lets go and gets lost in her pleasure.

He keeps going, helping her ride through it before his rhythm changes. He’s right there, dropping down onto her and kissing her shoulder as he pile-drives into her for the home stretch. Her hands roam his back, caressing him, “Fill me up, Aaron, you deserve it,” she whispers in his ear. “Cum for me, come on, baby.”

He whines, right there, scared of what noise is going to come out of him when he does cum but he also doesn’t really care at this point. He whimpers and groans, biting her shoulder slightly as he fills the condom and stills against her, “Oh my god? Oh, my god… holy fuck?”

She wraps her arms around him once more, tighter like a hug this time, still panting, she agrees. “I know, Jesus.”

He laughs against her, high on endorphins and feeling completely invincible, “You’re amazing.”

She grips his hair at the nape of his neck and pulls him up off of her shoulder, “You are incredible, that was the best sex I think I’ve ever had.”

He can’t help but smile as he leans in to kiss her. She brushes his hair off his forehead, it’s sweaty and slicks right back. Their kissing is softer this time, lazy and less lust-filled— more loving. Thankful.

He kisses her one last time before going to sit up on his knees and pull his soft cock out of her but she pulls him back in, “No, can we just cuddle like this for a bit?”

“Yeah,” he nods, not expecting her to want this but so glad she does.

He settles back against her shoulder, hand on her boob while she traces shapes over his back, “this is my favourite part,” she whispers.

“Me too… but I’m never usually on top,” he admits. “Or still inside…”

She lightly laughs and he can feel it all over, “What, your wife wasn’t a big fan?”

“Not really, she was quick to go get cleaned up and then she would cuddle into me and go to sleep… but I don’t want to talk about her anymore,” he admits.

“That’s okay,” she coos, soothing her hand down his back. She rests her cheek against the top of his head. “This has been the best night. Who thought getting snowed in at Quantico would end like this?”

“Not me, but I’m so glad it did.”

General Taglist

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #hotch smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine

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mournings-stars · 7 months ago

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Hello I hope your requests are on and if they are can I have angsty and alittle platonic headcanons for Lucifer

Where him, Lilith and Charlie run into he's ex wife who he left because he lost feelings for her and started liking Lilith after years his ex wife has movied on from him and her personality has also changed to the point its like a new person and that she has gone from a soft Naive woman to a more independent and emotionally stronger one

Thank you ignore this if you like

hello im back to writing!!! … with a bit of an angst warning

i like to think the marriage with lucifer was a lot like adam and liliths, you were basically created to be his wife. despite having free will, you were made for a purpose, so you understood lilith. you probably talked about it with him, saying you felt for her. “if i didn’t love you, i don’t know what i’d do,” you say and he smiles before telling you he loves you too

“if you ever feel how she does, and didn’t want to be with me anymore, you could tell me,” he’d say one day, and you dont think much of it

but back then you were too passive. like him, you were full of beliefs, but you were much more credulous and naive, and that led him to find someone else to share his dreams with. he used them to help comfort her and cheer her up, even telling you about it

then one day he stops

you piece it together, though — even if you’re naïve, you’re not an idiot, and you just let him go on until he plans to give eve the fruit

“don’t do this,” you tell him and he feigns like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about — or he really doesn’t because you feel like you have to say, “you must think i’m stupid,” when you see the shocked look on his face. “i know what you’ve been doing. i know what you’re about to do. don’t.”

but even if he didn’t think you were stupid, he certainly knew you didn’t think about the world the same way the other angels did; he convinced you, no matter what you knew was right, that this was the right thing to do. everything would be okay! humans would have free will, and everything would be fine

of course, that was the last time you spoke. you weren’t exactly sure if you’d ended things on good or bad terms, but in his mind you absolutely hated him, never wanted to see his face again, and were glad he fell

so, of course, once he ran into you — in hell of all places — at a high society event with his wife and daughter, he was floored. his only reaction, logically of course, was to turn the opposite way and drag his wife over to one of the princes to introduce her to

“where’s charlie?” lilith would ask him after a moment and he already knew

you were an angel, one of the only angels to swallow their pride and come to this event when invited, so it only made sense that his daughter wandered over to you and your small group of other angels — probably only there on a formality, he thought — and of-fucking-course she was drawn to you

lilith was already going over to you before he could stop her, so he went after her

you already recognized charlie; she looked so much like him, but you didn’t turn away. instead, you bent to her level and talked with her, listening as the tiny child talked about her parents and toys, and anything she could think of while you nodded along and conversed with her about her fantastical stories as best you could

“charlie, honey, let’s not bother…” he couldn’t even bring himself to say your name, prompting you to look up and introduce yourself

you didn’t know if he never told lilith about you, or if she was just being kind, but it seemed like she didn’t know your name or who you were. she introduced herself with a smile and you easily understood why lucifer fell for her

“it’s been a while,” you say to him and he can’t help but smile, relieved that your voice didn’t hold any contempt for him

but he didn’t know whether to feel grateful or ashamed when you introduced yourself to his wife as an old friend

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel heaven #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader

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ceasarslegion · 4 months ago

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OK...I'm asking....

Yay!

So this happened in what I consider the worst job I ever had. And that is saying something because I very much worked retail in a mall. I had just graduated uni, I couldn't afford toronto anymore, and I needed a full-time job to make ends meet now that the stability of university was gone. So I went to edmonton because I had one family member I could stay with until I got on my feet. And I was not in a position to turn away a job that paid.

So I took a door to door sales position. For telus. I can hear the canadians in the room wincing so to everyone else: telus is one of the three whole mega megacorporations that control the ENTIRE canadian telecommunications network. And all three of those companies are buddy buddy and have us all by the balls. That's why canadian phone plans are the most expensive in the world. Not in the developed world: in the WORLD.

The meth lab incident happened on my 3rd whole day on my own. I was in St. Albert, which is this suburb of edmonton that is like if a kale smoothie and that guy who won't shut up about bikhram yoga had a baby they abandoned in an HOA meeting. Which is what makes this that much more unhinged: it was in the most cookie cutter suburbia part of the EMR.

So I was doing my knocks in my blue Jay's hat and my telus branded polo shirt with my clipboard and I knock on my next door. I'm greeted by a middle aged woman who proceeds to dump on me that she's divorcing her husband of 30 years and moving to New Brunswick. I'm like okay cool I just wanna sell you cable packages, good luck with that?

I write that off and continue along the cul de sac until I knock on this other lady's door. And when I say talkative I mean a real chatty Kathy. She practically grabs me by the collar and plops me down on her deck chairs, shoves a coffee in my hand, and says "HEY TELUS GUY DID YOU KNOCK ON METH GUYS DOOR???" And points to the house of the lady who just told me she was getting a divorce

At this point I have forgotten about my commission. I have forgotten about my shitty supervisor and how every part of this job sucks and how I wanna go back to Toronto. I have thrown away my clipboard I have started sipping her coffee that could very well be spiked with something and I go "you have to tell me about the meth guy"

That house I knocked on? The weird oversharing lady who was getting a divorce? Her husband was running a meth lab out of the basement THEIR ENTIRE MARRIAGE and she ONLY FOUND OUT THEN?? He called it his man cave and said that she wasn't allowed in?? And then one day she went down out of curiosity and it was a METH LAB??? All the bonuses he said he got at work were meth money.

I'm still enamored by how this happened. Did it not smell? Like for those who don't know edmonton there is a HUGE meth problem here. Like across the political aisle we all agree that something has to happen about all the meth, the details get foggy and that's where people argue, but needless to say I have smelled and been offered meth before just by virtue of living downtown. That shit REEKS. Like you know meth smell because it somehow smells like the word "meth." You will know what you are smelling even when you've never smelled it before. And it lingers. It hangs. It gets into walls. I know when I've taken a train car before because the smell of that guy who hotboxed it with meth smoke last week will still kinda be there. There's no way that house didn't smell like ass down to the foundation.

And the "you arent allowed in my man cave" excuse... im enamored by both the sexism towards his OWN WIFE and the way she just... went along with it for 30 years? Never set foot down there? The sexism and the just believing it?

I kept trying to steer the conversation back to the meth lab and this lady I was on the porch of kept actively trying to buy internet deals from me. Like she was the only person I ever pitched who was TRYING to get my bundles. I ended up just handing her my list of products and told her to check off what she wanted and was like "more meth lab?" And she went right to "yknow i think if I was your age I would've been a boy now. We didn't really have those terms when I was a kid" I DID NOT BRING THAT UP MA'AM I DONT HAVE TIME FOR YOUR GENDER CRISIS TELL ME MORE ABOUT THE METH LAB

That job was so shit that that was the only one I ever quit with no back up plan and did not regret for a second. I then went to the mall and handed out CVs and got my retail job by the end of the week from doing that.

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moronkombat · 1 year ago

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Straight to it, Bi Han finds his wife dead 😘🥰😍

tw: character death, afab pronouns used

god this ask is blessed

Wind blows lightly, the breeze is warm and pleasant. Loose strands of pure ebony wisp past the curve of a cheek bone while eyes just as dark look to a gathering of flowers so perfectly planted. Bi-Han watches as petals fall limp and wrinkled, flora beginning the end of its life. There's a hand holding his, so much smaller than his own, yet the weight heavier than any mountain.

He hears her speaking and notices her adoring smile. She is beautiful, really, a grand masterpiece of humanity's kindness. Bi-Han loves her more than he can love anything else. She knows this, he never has to say it. He need only look upon her and his heart shines through his gaze.

They stood together in their garden as they always did before Bi-Han had to go. This their own little sanctuary where time stops. They should have never left that place.

Heart pounds in his chest, legs carry him faster and faster. Blood has spattered and drenched him while he runs through hallways that seem almost endless. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This meant to be between him and the Tengu and yet they have pulled that which is most precious to Bi-Han in its horrible grasp.

Ice continues to pierce those who stand in his way and the blood is so heavy upon his skin. He cannot stop, he must find her. Bi-Han knows the Tengu have her, they had told him as much. Their bodies are ripped and torn as the frantic man searches for his kidnapped wife.

The corpses have led him to some place dark but her light still shines through. There she stands, held by hands Bi-Han wishes to slice. Her eyes...she is terrified. She quivers and shakes while tears dirty her face. Bi-Han rages, an internal war erupts. Beast like eyes stare at the one who holds her from him and fingers twitch and become frigid.

"I'll kill you..." Bi-Han rasps through his bloodstained mask and everything within him begins to shake.

The Tengu looks at him, unafraid and resilient. He hums something that Bi-Han doesn't catch before eyes begin to crinkle into a smile.

"I know." He says. "But I will destroy you."

No! Bi-Han lunges forward, the ice that runs in his veins manifesting into life. Life really is a fickle thing. Blades catch the dimmed light of the room and beam with the strength of the sun. Sharpened and refined metal cuts through the air before it embraces flesh. Ribs begin to crack, blood begins to pour and her shriek lasts only but a moment before lungs are lacerated by a Tengu's wrath.

Blood flies through the air and paints a man most terrified. Droplets of her warm and scalding blood find themselves colliding onto Bi-Han's cheek as he reaches forward for her. Eyes widen while hers begin to fade dim. There's a scream. One inhuman and broken apart. As she falls, ice cuts through her attacker's throat and a life is ended.

Before that wretched Tengu body and even hit the floor, Bi-Han is cradling his dear wife who gasps and writhes in pain. His eyes look over her, blood is pooling from her wound even as his hands attempt to stop it.

"No, no, no, no-" Bi-Han panics, cold hands covered in burning crimson as a palm lays against her chest. "It's going to be alright, it's going to be okay-"

She knows he is lying but her words cannot form. Too trapped by the gasps for breath and cries of pain. Her blood is spilling faster now, it falls from her lips and runs down her chin like a flowing stream. The visage of him begins to blur until there is nothing but an obscured void.

"Stay with me now...!" his words all she has left to cling to but even they begin to echo and fade.

Her gasps, her pained whines...they are gone now. She is gone. An empty body is left in her place, limp and heavy. Bi-Han's eyes dart around her, a hand coated in red cups her cheek. He called out her name but she merely stares back at him with hazy eyes and bloody lips. Bi-Han's trembling body now crumbles apart and he cradles her just as he did when they were alone in that very special garden. The garden they never should have departed from.

He cries, he wails, begging her to speak to him, to hold him like she always did. She cannot, her body no better than the corpses he left behind. There's hurried clatter, the sound of footsteps approaching. Two younger brothers stand in the doorway, staring at the sight they should have never seen.

They stand together, Tomas and Kuai Liang looking at each other. Both are unsure of what to say as they watch their eldest brother sob and hold onto an empty husk of what was once the love of his life.

Bi-Han's mind is lost to him. He begs and pleads for her to awaken; he screams in the agony of pure destruction. The one he cries for cannot hear him. The wind blows lightly, the breeze cold and haunting.

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #bi han #mk1 bi han #bi han x you #bi han x reader

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rey-jake-therapist · 1 month ago

Text

Okay, I cooled down, watched the episode again and... cooled down because I was pissed off again, mostly at the terrible lines that came out of Galadriel's mouth during that fight... "Do you want to heal me?" (that was so random lol), "the free people of Middle Earth will always resist you" (cringe intensifies), "You want to heal Middle Earth... Heal yourself !" (Peak cringe).

I already ranted about all the things I didn't like in other posts, I didn't change my mind a bit, so I will focus on what else I liked, especially after rewatching.

There are moments of the Haladriel fight I really enjoyed. Starting with this :

(gif posted by @tpmind)

This little smile, the first time we see him soften since season 2 started, and... god, I wish we could put sound on gifs because this "Galadrriel"... oh my heart. He was really glad to see his wife !

Then this, which was comedy actually :

(gif by @letthefairyinyoufly)

First, Evil Barbie looks very cute, I want to kiss him. Ahem, I derail. But this moment made me laugh so hard. Galadriel and all of us think of Sauron of this brilliant master mind who's got 320 plans in his head, is always ahead of everyone and manipulates us all like puppets, and here he's just like.... "Wut? Nah, I improvise often actually". I liked this line because it made him a more realistic villain, finally. There's a lot he can predict and plan but he can sometimes be surprised too ! Like at at the end, when Durin and his dwarves came at the rescue : he thought the Balrog had killed them all, probably. Sauron really doesn't like these dwarves lol

And I know it was not everybody's cup of tea, but I loved most of this duel. At least the beginning ! It was everything I predicted : she was the enraged gremlin, while he calmly avoided blows and barely struk back. At some point his face even said, "she serious? She wants to keep fighting? Boring, but if that's the wife wants..."

Because this is literally what happens. As he tells her, he doesn't want to harm her at all ! That's why he doesn't use any magic against her. It would be so easy if he did. Galadriel didn't best Sauron, he let her best him, at least until she rejected him again and angered him doing so. That's only then that he changed and became actually agressive. And even then, he effortlessly owned her. The only reason why she managed to scratch his face is probably that he was pissed and caught off guard by her refusal to be with him.

We saw how easily Sauron can kill someone when he really wants to. With a hand wave he would have thrown Galadriel against a tree if he had wanted to harm her or kill her, c'mon. He toyed with her like a cat with a mouse and it was delicious to watch. Galadriel wasn't nicer with the Numenor boys in season 1 than Sauron was with her during this fight. She was stronger than he thought though, he underestimated her, hence why she made him fall on his back.

And the sexual tension during this fight ! Incredible, and it just kept culminating until he stabbed her with Morgoth's crown. I'll come back to that in a minute. And the height difference, let's not forget the height difference !

I liked that we finally got the confirmation that earlier in the season, he used Nenya to communicate with Galadriel with visions, like I suspected. I didn't like how it was executed (shapeshifting into Celebrimbor to make him repeat "Aren't they the seeds you planted?" was a bit of an overkill), but I'm glad they clarified that, for her and for us.

Halbrand's appearance ! His puppy eyes! He was totally manipulating her like a puppy begging for food, but still, so cute... Man, he's good lol

Galadriel frozing, closing her eyes when he repeats what he told her and dropping her defensiveness! I loved that moment, too bad it lasted what? 5 seconds, then it was gone? I know many of us, me included tbh, thought he was just manipulating her again, even mocking her feelings (and ours as well), and that the way it was executed could make it seem like Halbrand was really fake, after all. I blame the terrible execution of this scene for that, tbh. Not Charlie's acting! he was perfect, he always is.

But back to the point : I think what this moment tried to convey, very awkwardly, was that he reminded Galadriel of this moment in the woods, and of her own words earlier in S1, as an echo to what he said just before: "Not all of it". And he did that not to manipulate her or to mock her, but to force her to force the truth that she refuses to admit : they're not that different. But again, it was terribly executed and suffered from a complete lack of emotions. It was supposed to be his "hit her with the truth" moment, I guess? If it was the purpose, it obviously missed the mark.

But wait, I said I would only post positive thoughts...

Now of course there's THIS :

Man, that was insane. I have no other words for it. It was horrible, yet disturbingly HOT. I must say on my first watching, I screamed "nooooo, you said you wished her no harm, what are you doing?!", and seeing him insisting to get Nenya really annoying. So that was it? He only cared for his freaking rings now?

(crédit @spellofwinter)

Trusting how he looked at her straight after stabbing her, I'd say not. He may say what he wants, but that's the look of a Maiar who's still down bad for his she-Elf. I mean look at him.

I liked his speech about how he would have not rested until all Middle-Earth worshipped her and all that, I loved it. It was ridiculously romantic, especially considering he was literally twisting the knife crown into her wound. It was really, "you hurt me, my turn now". He's such a petty bitch.

Galadriel's awful "The free people of M-E will always resist you" line kinda ruined the mood for me, and not just because she wasn't vibing as he was ; why does Sauron have the best lines of dialogs while Galadriel gets all the crappy ones? 'seems very mysoginistic to me.

Then I read some posts here and came back to the scene to rewatch, and wow, some of you are really good, you know that? And no, I'm not referring to the obvious sexual innuendo behind this move lol But as it's been observed by others :

He stabs her with Morgoth's crown, just as he was by Adar.

He aimed for the shoulder while he could have very well gone for the heart (proving that even then, he didn't want to kill her)

There's an undeniable significance in the fact that he stabbed her with Morgoth's crown and not with Adar's sword. As @apoloadonisandnarcissus pointed out in this post, it contains a very powerful dark magic, that will leave Galadriel forever marked with a wound that can never fully heal. Sauron knew that, and he chose this weapon on purpose.

One of the reasons why I never thought that the show would give us Dark!Galadriel at the of season 2, is that Sauron himself doesn't want her to become his "dark queen". He's drawn to her light ! That's why he wanted her to be his queen, because she's already the Lady of Light to him. He wanted her to touch the darkness, not to be wrapped in it like he is. She was supposed to balance him, that's the whole point... But now that she's determined to shut the door on him, he realizes that if he lets her go now, he'll lose her forever.

So he stabs her with Morgoth's crown, knowing fully well what it will do to her. Saying "I would have put a crown above your head etc." is Sauron putting the blame on Galadriel for what he is, as he believes, "forced to do", exactly like he accused Celebrimbor of forcing him to torture him. It's Sauron's playbook all over again : "I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice", "you did that to yourself", "I'm the victim here", etc.

My first reaction to this scene where he asks her to give him Nenya was to believe that he was only interested in the ring. But Ioved the fact that he talked in her head, because it's the first time he does that. And it's probably because of the wound he just gave her that he can do it. I didn't like the scene in itself that much because it looked like he was woodoing her more than anything else.

But the fact remains that he didn't take Nenya by force. And that's when @apoloadonisandnarcissus strongly disagree about Sauron's intent here :) You think the bond he created by stabbing her was accidental because his plan was to steal her light and turn her into a ringwraith, I'm saying it was his intention since the start to bind her to him. She was supposed to stick around though lol

Seriously, he could have just taken Nenya from her finger and let Galadriel become a ringwraith. Why didn't he just do that? It's not cryptonite to him, he could have just taken it. He renounced her, right? She didn't want him, he didn't want her as his queen any longer, so why asking her to give Nenya to him instead of just taking it, if he didn't care about Galadriel at all? We saw with Adar that Nenya will "work" even if it has been stolen, so Sauron didn't want Galadriel to give it freely because he thought he woudn't be able to use it if he just took it from her.

So, my theory may be delulu but is supported by Sauron's facial expression : he was still on a power trip. Clearly lol. He knew he could heal Galadriel with Nenya, and he intented to because he didn't want her dead, but only... if she gave her the ring herself. He wanted her to submit to him, entirely. He could have told her he wanted Nenya so he could heal her, but then she would have given it just for that, and that's not what he wanted.

Of course, he didn't expect her to jump instead. He tried to catch her hand to stop her fall, again, why? Why would he care if she lived or die? If the point of it all was to get his hand on Nenya, all he had to do was to walk down the cliff and go pick up Nenya down there. He had more than enough time before Arondir and Gil-Galad would find Galadriel. But he didn't do that. He just remained stunned, he couldn't believe what she did. Then he lashed out on Glug who just happened to arrive with his complaints at the wrong time. Though, tbh, Glug wouldn't have survived for long anyway, being sort of the unionist of the Uruks. Sauron's not exactly a democrat... Plus he hates them.

So, I'm convinced that Sauron's plan at this point was to bind Galadriel to him, forcefully, since he can't get her to join him willingly. He stabbed her with Morgoth's crown so he could possess her. His design was of course way darker than what he had in mind first - making her his queen and not resting until all Middle-Earth worship her - , but I don't think that making her a ringwraith was his purpose.

Now of course, we'll see what the writers do with that, maybe he'll just keep antagonizing her which will prove that binding himself to her but not totally enslaved was purely accidental, but it has the potential to take a very interesting turn, anyway.

Last thing I liked, and which also convinces me that deep down, this moron stilll cares about her, has also been noticed by several other fans. @galstelperion published a great edit of the shots that look like very much as if Galadriel was being watched by an eye from above, by Sauron. The first one is when she's found by Arondir and Gil-Galad.

Even when Gil-Galad tries to save her from the darkness that's taking her, it looks like they're being watched (I took a screenshot but it's really more obvious if you watch the edit)

Then, that's the effect we see from Galadriel's POV, when she wakes up after Elrond heals her :

And then again when the camera turns on her. See how she puts her hand on her wound (also her heart, ahem) immediately? It could be because it still hurts, of course, but it could also be because she feels Sauron's eye on her. In LOTR, Frodo's wound made him suffer each time the Nazgul who stabbed him was close.

Also, Galadriel's wound looks like an eye if we look at it with attention.

So my point is : Sauron DID check on her after he realized she was still alive. He knows she's fine because he's got his 24/7 livestream now. Fanfic writers, have fun with this information ;)

Why didn't he check on her immediately then? Easy answer : petty bitch. That's what he is, after all. It's possible he was conflicted ; not happy that she may be dead, but thinking that maybe it's for the best that she is, as @darklinaforever suggested if I'm not wrong?

And to finish with a very delulu theory that will certainly never be proven true : when Gil-Galad says the darkness is too powerful and he can't save her, Elrond answers with an absolute certainty, looking at Nenya : "I can". Then he puts on the ring, which we know is a very difficult thing to do for him because until now, he was totally against the use of the Elven rings.

Where does he take this certainty from, I wonder? I know he saw Galadriel use Nenya to heal Camnir, but Camnir was wounded by an Orc arrow. It's not even remotely similar as the wound that an object as powerful and dark as Morgoth's crown, Elrond would know that (and Gil-Galad would have probably saved her without Nenya, if it was such a wound). So how is he so certain? Probably because Nenya showed him. And who proved during this fight that he was the one using Nenya to send visions to Galadriel, in the earlier episodes? I mean, maybe not of all them, but we know he was the one who showed her visions of Celebrimbor prisoner of "the seeds that she planted" at least...

Who knows, maybe Sauron did save her after all hahaha. Maybe that's what Charlotte Brandström hinted at, when she said :

"I think Sauron even really loves Galadriel and you will see that at the very end."

What else showed in this episode that he really loves her?? I can't think of anything else. Binding her to him, with the potential intent to turn her into a ringwraith? from Sauron's POV I guess it's love, but it doesn't happen "at the very end". At the end of their encounter yes, but who would look at this scene and think "this real love right here?" While Galadriel's healing happens... at the very end of the episode. I'll let that sink in...

The main obstacle to the idea that Sauron still loves Galadriel is episode 7 : Galadriel is put in a cage by Adar, threatened by a spear which he uses to make her bleed, and yet we don't see Sauron reacting to that. It can make us think that he didn't care at all what could happen to her, but the thing is : we can't be sure that he even saw that she was prisoner of Adar, since we don't know what he can see from the walls where he's standing. We don't know if he stayed on the walls to watch or if he left immediately with Celebrimbor.... We don't know if the scene where Elrond charges is happening right in front of him, or in a totally different place... We know nohing, so there's still room to think that he simply has no idea where Galadriel is at this moment. For all we know, he believes she's still with the Elves. Or he saw her but also saw Elrond going to meet Adar, and assumed he could handle this on his own. Or we will learn in season 3 that he mind palaced everyone and was in fact masquerading as Elrond (lol, I hardly hope for that now).

That's one of episode 7's many plot holes : since they didn't stop showing Sauron obsessing over Galadriel, they should have adressed this, either by filming him while he looked at the scene, either by filming him while he left the walls with Celebrimbor. At least, we'd know.

In conclusion to all this, I'd just like to say that episode 8 was still very disappointing, but all these points I've found redeem it a bit to me. At least if I'm right about Sauron's intentions when he wounded her with Morgoth's crown. If his intention was only to make her a ringwraith and steal her light... It's even worse than I thought and it's indeed probably not doomship anymore, but sunkship.

#sauron #galadriel #saurondriel #haladriel #trop meta #saurondriel meta #haladriel meta #sauron x galadriel #galadriel x sauron #halbrand x galadriel #galadriel x halbrand

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