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mistiell · 10 days ago

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Oh, Your Love is Sunlight

summary: While on a supply run with your (insanely attractive) neighbor and friend, Joel, you nearly die twice. Once to an infect, and second to hypothermia, when you fall through the ice while trying to take a short cut home to Jackson. Joel spends the night trying to warm you up and keep you alive, and the morning after, you both come to a realization.

wc: 8k (Yikes, sorry y’all)

warnings: VOMIT (For my fellow emetephobics, I put ** at the start and end of the part), Fem! Reader, canon typical violence, graphic description of killing an infected, hypothermia, near death experiences, body heat as a survival tactic, like brief indirect mention of Star Wars that might be inaccurate bc I’ve never seen it (DONT COME FOR ME, I JUST HAVENT GOTTEN AROUND TO IT), Worried and protective Joel, very very briefmention of original characters towards the end bc i needed people and didnt feel like searching the wiki, slightly jealous Joel but it passes quickly. if i missed anything lmk. NOT PROOFREAD (will likely come back to fix any mistakes later)

a/n: Hello i have returned with a fic i started last year and just finished (oops lol), and it is my longest fic to date so enjoy! This will likely have a smutty part 2 if i ever get around to it.

**NOTE: I've linked ways to help Palestine here. If you're in a position to donate anything at all, please do! If not, you can reblog the post that's linked so it gets out to more people.

---

You don’t hate Joel Miller, but you really hate him right now.

Tommy was supposed to do this run with him – something about guitar strings for Ellie that they couldn’t get awhile ago – but something had come up. Joel had come to you to ask if you’d go with him instead, and your will to please him overrode your vehement dislike of sub-zero temperatures. It’s become apparent in recent months that you just can’t say no to the man; a flaw that you are actively going to work on fixing when you get back, you decide as you trudge through what has to be double digit inches worth of snow.

“Remind me why we couldn’t have ridden the rest of the way?” You huff, lifting and heaving your heavy winter boot yet another step after him. You really wish it were safe to wear snowshoes out here. It would make travelling through this shit so much easier. Alas, while it’s great for travelling faster over snow, the same can’t be said for escaping any infected you may have the misfortune of running into out here.

He sighs, but reminds you again for the third time in thirty minutes, “Horses can’t make it through this way in the winter.”

“Couldn’t we have found a way around?”

Bemused, he shoots you a sidelong glance, “Unless you wanna walk home in the dark, no. Sun’s already too low for my likin’.”

“It’s barely afternoon, Joel.”

“Might be past that by the time we head back.”

“Might be isn’t will be.”

Shaking his head, he breathes an exasperated chuckle. You’d think he was genuinely annoyed if this wasn’t your routine. You try to vex him, he pretends it’s working. He looks fond as he shakes his head, “D’ you gotta be so goddamn argumentative all the time?”

“‘Course.” You grin puckishly, “Part of my charm.”

He snorts, lifting a tree branch and letting you duck under his arm, a little bit of snow flaking off the nettles and dusting your hair and eyelashes, “Charm ain’t exactly the word I’d use.”

“Yeah? What word would you use, then?” You ask, turning to look at him just as he ducks under the branch after you. As he straightens, you realize you’re so close, you have to tilt your head back a little to look at him.

It’s only when you’re this close to him that you’re reminded of just how broad he is. Broad shoulders, broader chest. One of his hands could encompass nearly a whole half of your face, you’re sure. Leaving the two of you in spouts of steam, you watch your breaths mingle and dance in the space between you. Humming a low rumble, his mouth twists and eyes narrow as he pretends to think, and you almost forget what you’ve asked until he replies, “Annoyance.”

Moment lost. You roll your eyes. “Aren’t you sweet.”

He chuckles, the sound rich in his chest as he continues on and prompts you to do the same. As you emerge from the treeline, you spot your destination a ways away. A small, rundown town centre. You can just barely see a sign with a treble clef peaking out from behind the large building blocking your view.

“You’re sure this area’s clear, right?” His silence unnerves you. “Right?”

“Should be.” His brow creases. He looks about as reluctant to be doing this as you are, but Ellie needs new strings and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get them before her birthday. The things you do for those you love, you suppose, “Keep a look out, just in case.”

“Yup.” You sigh, popping the ‘P’.

The town is a frigid wasteland when you make it onto the main street, storefront windows smashed to bits with snow drifts sloping up the walls and creeping inside, blowing snow whooshing up in swirls like mini tornados across the open spaces. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as you traverse the street, nerves buzzing with the anticipation of danger that is ever present out here.

More walking, before glass crackles underfoot as you step through the mangled metal frame of the music store’s front door, careful to avoid the jagged pieces still jutting out of the rust-flaked steel. The two of you split up to look around, Joel making his way over to a wall that houses a couple of fair quality acoustic guitars while you survey a few shelves lined with CD’s and tapes on the other side of the room.

“Y’know guitar strings ain’t gonna be over there, right?” He calls, and you roll your eyes.

“Obviously. I figured I’d try to find something for her, too.” An album cover catches your eye and you slide it out, tilting your head uncertainly. It looks old, but you recognize some of the songs off the list on the back, “You think she’d like ‘Heart’?”

“What, the band?” You call back in confirmation, and he hums out a breath in thought as he picks over his side of the store, “I reckon she might.”

“‘Heart’ it is, then.” You murmur to yourself, slinging your pack from your shoulders and kneeling to unzip the main pocket.

Something clatters somewhere ahead of you, and you freeze, head snapping up in the direction of another door, wooden this time. You watch and wait, unblinking, palming the hilt of your pistol. Quads, hamstrings, calves wound tight and poised to move quickly, you rise slow into a half crouch, holding your breath. Something bumps again, chittering, hard enough this time that the door shudders in the corroded frame.

“Joel-!”

The door flings open and hits the adjacent wall with a BANG!, and with a guttural, inhumane cry, something flings its body at you chest first, knocking you off your feet. Your shoulders slam into the tiled floor with a hollow thud, knocking the air from your lungs and taking your ability to scream with it. You flail, forearm pressed hard against the infected’s fleshy throat as you fight wildly while trying desperately to breath, scream, something.

A large hunk of Cordyceps encompasses a quarter of it’s face, rubbery ridges stretching several inches from the surface of its skin. One wild, bloodshot eye meets yours, pupil blown and lids split so wide with hunger you can see where the yellowed white begins to curve into its skull. Your heart thrums painfully in your throat as you realize you’ve nothing to do but stare back and pray Joel gets the hell over here before the thing tears into you. Its teeth gnash, still shrieking, mouth opening so wide you can see the mottled grey of its rotting tonsils behind flashes of bloodied incisors. Its rancid breath has your stomach churning.

A strong arm wraps around its neck from behind, and then it’s off you, and you’re staring wide eyed at the ceiling listening to the cracking of bone, a far off, dying keen. The wet squelch of brain matter and rotten cerebrospinal fluid spilling out of its skull and likely splattering over the wall is muffled but just as terribly, egregiously sickening. Its only once you’re pulled up by the shoulders and spots dance across your vision that you realize that you’ve still yet to take a proper breath.

Joel takes your face between large palms, lips moving with no sound beyond the ringing in your ears. You watch his mouth wrap around your name, then the words ‘Breathe’and ‘Please’ several times over as he pats feeling into your cheeks. Over his shoulder, the thing lays motionless, its head so mangled, its just a wet mess of reds and greys and sharp fragments of bone. Your stomach rolls. **You twist out of his hold just as it contracts and spills its contents over the grimy floor, black pressing into your peripherals until you finally shut your eyes, retching. A hand smooths over your shoulder blades while the other collects any loose strands of hair and holds them back behind your nape. **

Its easier to breathe by the time you’re done, and you can finally hear his voice again, low and soft as he soothes, “S’ alright, you’re okay.”

“Oh, fuck.” You rasp, throat burning something awful as you spit the acrid taste from your mouth

“I know, I know.” He turns you to him by your shoulders as soon as you’re done and looks you over, gaze frantically jumping between your face, neck, shoulders, arms. “Did it get you?”

You blink dumbly at him.

“What?” Your mind is still catching up to the present moment, and it takes too long for you to process what he’s asked.

“Were you bit?” His voice is high, shaking and scared, his hands on your shoulders like vice grips.

“N-No.” You force out just so he’ll calm down. You’re not actually sure yet, adrenaline still prickling in your extremities, so really, you could be. Its just that seeing him so genuinely panicked is more than a little disconcerting. His hold on your shoulders starts to ache, and you squirm, “Joel, you’re hurting me.”

He lets go like he’s been burned before gently pushing your jacket and shirt collar to your right, then left as you slide your sleeves up a little to check your wrists. No bites, no scratches. You both breathe sighs of relief.

“You get the strings?” You rasp, and he looks at you incredulously.

“You almost died n’ you’re worried ‘bout the guitar strings?” You shrug, and he breathes a laugh, beard scratching under the pads of his fingertips as he rubs at his mouth, “Christ, you are gonna be the death of me.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah, I got the damn strings.” With a quiet grunt, he rises, holds out a hand, “Let’s get the hell outta here.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Clapping your hand into his, you let him hoist you to your feet.

---

Walking, freezing, joints aching, the sun looms low in the sky, stealing away with it slowly the light of day. Joel holds up two fingers to the horizon and scowls. You sigh, trek onwards, a shiver jittering down your spine and making your teeth chatter briefly, causing you to accidentally nip the tip of your tooth paste coated finger as you attempt to rid your mouth of the remnants of your earlier close call.

“You alright?” He asks for what has to be the thirtieth time as you spit into the snow and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.

For the thirtieth time, despite feeling a little gross, you answer, “Fine.”

“Y’sure?” He rubs a gloved hand roughly along the length of your shoulders, warming the nape of your neck even through layers. “You’re shiverin’.”

You want to curl into his side. Slide under his arm, wrap yours round his back and squeeze so close you’d have to mirror his gait so you don’t trip over his ankle. You shake your head minutely. The cold is weakening your resolve.

“I’m okay. Just wanna get home.” You try to sound normal, like his touch isn’t setting you on fire.

He gives you a soft squeeze and retracts his arm. You mourn the loss swiftly and silently, “You n’ me both.”

The shadows around lengthen considerably as you keep going. Glancing up at the sky, the sun has dipped lower, turning the sky a dusted pink. You scowl at the realization that he was right. At this rate, you won’t make it back to Jackson before dark.

“We’re not makin’ good time.” He articulates your thought with a sigh, brow creased.

“We could pass over the lake?”

He hesitates, then makes a face like he’s smelled something rotten, “S’ not a good idea.”

“It’s been frozen over since November.” You argue. It’s nearly March now, but the snow is still crisp under your boots and the wind is cold enough that your cheeks and nose are numb. It’s the quickest way back, you know he knows that.

There’s a pause as he contemplates whether or not it’s worth the risk. There are about a hundred things that could go wrong, and you watch him mull over them all in the minute it takes for him to finally reply, “Fine. But if you fall in, you’re gettin’ yourself out.”

There’s no truth to it. He might scold you, but he’d do it while breathing life back into you, cursing you between each exhale. Your breath comes out in puffs of fog as you chuckle, “Deal.”

By the time you reach the crossing, the sky has taken on a lovely lavender hue that serves as a less lovely reminder that you’re quickly running out of daylight. Joel hums doubtfully as he eyes the ice, sizing up the distance between the two of you and the bank on the other side.

The lake isn’t very large to begin with, and the path crosses a narrow strip where the water tapers in like the neck of an hourglass. It’ll take you fifteen minutes or so to get all the way over to the other side. In the height of winter, you can even get the horses safely across. But while it’s still well below freezing, and the ice looks thick enough to jump on from here, it could be weaker further out.

Hands in his pockets, Joel frowns, “I really don’t know about this.”

“It’s fine.” Emboldened by thoughts of your warm bed and a steaming cup of tea waiting for you on the other side, you step onto the ice and turn back to him, “See?”

“Mm-hm.” He hums, displeased as he follows after you carefully.

Ten minutes of walking and you’re already a little ways passed the halfway mark. Joel’s had his eyes on the dark abyss beneath you nearly the entire time. “If you keep looking down like that, you might fall.”

“N’ if I don’t, both of us might fall.” His use of ‘fall’ means something different to yours. Humming, you turn your gaze forward again.

“We’re close, now. The ice is stronger closer to the edges, right?” You already know the answer. There’s no point in asking, but you do anyway just so he’ll talk.

“Mm.” He grumbles. That stubborn crease between his brows has deepened, you find when you glance sidelong at him.

“Exactly. We’re fi-.” An ear splitting crack bounces off the ice, to the trees, and back again in a terrible echo as the ice splinters beneath you. You nearly slip in your haste to stop. The both of you go stiff as statues. You’re petrified. Joel looks doubly so.

“Joel.” You whisper, as if your voice weighs enough to be the extra bit that sends you plunging into the icy depths below. The chalky cracks are in stark contrast to the dark backdrop of the water beneath. Just how deep must it be for you to be unable to make out anything below you?

You feel like you might be sick.

“Hey. Look at me.” Tears hot with panic well in your eyes as you do as he says, and the look on his face makes it worse. You know that look. He thinks might lose you, and he’s decided he won’t let it happen. His breath trembles, but his voice doesn’t waver, “S’ gonna be alright, yeah?”

You manage a nod, and only then does he look down, then left, scouring the ice and treeline barely fifteen feet away. Back to you, and you both realize he’s to far to reach you. Second time you’ve almost died today, and this time he can’t come to your rescue.

“M-Maybe I can...” You bend your knees a little as if to move and he throws a hand out.

“Don’t-!”

The ice gives, and the fear takes up so much space you’ve barely room to take a breath before you’re engulfed in painful cold. It bites at your face as you attempt to swim up. The water muffles everything but the sound of your heartbeat as you fight against the weight of your clothes and backpack. You make the mistake of opening your eyes and find yourself swimming up, up, up through far too much nothing. It hurts to kick your legs hard enough to propel yourself, and it takes what feels like forever for you to breach the surface. You take in a heaving lungful of air as Joel calls your name.

He’s on his belly, body parallel to the edge and arm outstretched, but not close enough for you to grab just yet, “Don’t pull yourself up. Just- Just get your arms on the ice n’ kick your legs a little, alright? Can you do that?”

“Uh-huh.” It comes out jittery, jaw vibrating, teeth clacking together painfully as you hook your arm clumsily up over the lip and do as he says. The lower half of your body gradually rises until you’re level with the ice, and it’s then that he beckons you closer.

“Now scooch forward.”

You kick your legs harder and carefully pull yourself toward him until your chest is out of the water, then your torso. The ice dips a bit as you reach for his outstretched hand, and as soon as he’s got yours, he pulls hard enough to get you the rest of the way out, nearly wrenching your shoulder out of the socket. The moment you’re close enough, he wraps his arms tight around you and rolls you both away from the hole in the ice.

Panting, trembling, he keeps you there in his arms moments longer than he probably should.

“Don’t you ever do shit like that again.” His voice breaks on ‘ever��. “Gonna give me a fuckin’ heart attack. Too old for this shit.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ do it on pu-purpose.” You slur with lips too stiff to fit around the words right. Even your tongue feels frozen, but you think that’s probably more from the shock, “Thought y’said I’d have’ta get myself out.”

He huffs a short laugh, incredulous and utterly relieved. “Had a change a’ heart.”

“C’mon.” Carefully, he shifts onto knees before standing. He doesn’t let go of you once as he helps you to your feet, “Gotta get you warmed up ‘fore you freeze.”

He says it like there’s somewhere warm waiting for you just beyond the ice. You’re too tired to be outwardly pessimistic. “Yeah.”

You should be anxious as he shuffles the two of you to shore as quickly as is safe. When you make it there, he stops you only to peel off your mitts and scarf before ushering you forward. It’s freezing, you’re soaked. It’s a recipe for a very miserable death, you think dismally. But you trust Joel, and the tight grip he has on you makes you relax, even when you’re toeing a very fine line between life and death. You know he won’t give up on you easily. If you started spontaneously disintegrating tomorrow, he’d carve out pieces of himself just to keep you whole. There is no way in hell he’ll let a little cold take you from him.

“Y’see that?” You lift your head sluggishly to see a small opening tucked into the drop off of a very large, rocky hill. “Just gotta make it there, alright?”

You try for an ‘okay’ but all that comes out is a small hum as you slump further against him. Maybe you’ve relaxed too much, “M’ tired.”

“I know, darlin’, I know.” The pet name sparks something in you, and you try to foster it, let it liven you up a little. Darlin’ Darlin’ Darlin’ like a mantra over and over in your head. He squeezes your arm roughly, and you peel your eyes open as he pleads, “Just a little further n’ you can sit down, okay? Promise.”

Sit down, not sleep. You know you can’t sleep until you’re not at risk of freezing to death anymore. By the time you reach your destination, you can barely feel your fingers and toes.

Joel has to duck to get the two of you out of the cold and into the cave, but he manages. It’s warmer in here, you think. Although maybe its not warmth, but just the absence of the wind nipping at your skin. You’re a little alarmed that you can’t tell the difference.

Sliding down the wall to sit clumsily, you watch him as he slings both his and your packs from his shoulders. You vaguely wonder when he’d managed to take yours. The zipper clinks sharply as he sets it down and reminds you suddenly.

“The CD.”

He frowns, “Huh?”

“Ellie’s birthday gift.” You clarify through the haze rolling over your brain. “The ‘Heart’ CD. I left it.”

He blows a short huff out his nose as he reaches into his back pocket, sliding said object from the denim and giving it a waggle.

“Oh.”

Breathing a very small laugh, he shakes his head, “You’re welcome.”

Theres a short lull, although it feels like longer. He looks you over, jaw working before, “You’re gonna have to strip.”

You blink owlishly, “Huh?”

Cheeks and neck flushing a lovely rose, he clears his throat, “Your clothes are soaked. You’ll freeze if you keep ‘em on.”

“Oh.” That checks. You’re sure your face would be on fire if your blood wasn’t slush in your veins, “Right.”

Tentatively, you attempt to peel your jacket off while he unrolls his sleeping bag, but your arms won’t cooperate with you. They’re slow and hard to maneuver. It feels more like operating two arcade crane machines simultaneously, and you huff after failing to get the cuff of your sleeve unstuck from your wrist.

“Here.” He sighs, kneeling in front of you to tug it the rest of the way off and toss it aside. It’s stiff as it lands, mostly frozen. When he looks back at you, the corners of his mouth twist down, and he takes one of your cheeks in a big, calloused hand, thumbing under your eye. You were right. It does encompass nearly the entire side of your face.

“What?” You ask weakly, head lolling until the full weight of it rests in his palm.

“Nothin’.” He replies quietly, shaking his head. You watch his gaze dip to the hem of you shirt before it meets yours again, wary, “Can I... You want help?”

All you can do is nod. It’ll be quicker – safer – if he does it for you, you justify, as he carefully slips his fingers just under the hem and lifts. His knuckles feel like brands where they brush over your ribs, and you jolt reflexively.

He pulls it over your head and off your arms, “You alright?”

“F-Fine.” Just being undressed by the man you think you’re in love with. No big deal.

He gets off your boots next. Wetting his chapped lips briefly, his fingers twitch as he glances down at your jeans, “These too?”

It takes a second for you to realize he’s not asking if you want them off, but rather if you want help getting them off. You swallow, then through chattering teeth, “Uh-huh.”

Wordlessly, he undoes the button, then the zipper without dawdling, strictly business. You plant your palms and use what little strength you have left to lift your butt from the floor so he has room to wiggle them down your thighs. They slip over your calves and past your ankles with ease, taking your socks with them.

“You, uh...” Again, he clears his throat. “You can get in the sleeping bag ‘fore you take off the rest.”

Drawing your knees in makes your bones ache, and you list to one side when you attempt to shift your weight forward onto your feet. He catches you roughly by the shoulders and soothes, “Easy. C’mere.”

He helps you over and into the sleeping bag, zipping you up. It takes effort, but you manage to unhook your bra, throwing it near your other clothes weakly. Joel’s got a gloomy look on his face as he scrubs a large hand over the length of your bicep. The warmth from the friction seeps through the fabric and into your skin, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

“You’re wet too.” He looks down at himself at your observation. The front of his clothes are indeed wet. The fact that he’s not near freezing is a miracle.

He hums, hand still heavy on your arm, “Only got one sleepin’ bag.”

“Body heat. S’ better for kee-keepin’ warm anyway, right?” A strange look crosses his face, then, and you feel a little silly for suggesting it. “Only if you want.”

Only if he’s comfortable.

Tentatively, he asks, “You alright with that?’

“Mm-hm.” It sounds too eager. You’re too tired to care.

He hesitates a moment, before nodding, “Alright.”

You mourn the loss of his touch briefly as he stands, moving your packs closer before sliding off his jacket. He lifts his shirt just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the soft slope of his abdomen before seemingly remembering himself.

“Don’t look.” He mumbles, suddenly shy. You do as he says, listening to the shucking of fabric, the clinking of his belt buckle, the zipper of his jeans.

The soft sound of socked feet padding quickly over stone as he rushes to escape the cold. He hisses as he slots himself in behind you.

“Christ, woman, you’re like ice.” His skin is blessedly warm as his torso presses hot against your back.

“Think I don’t know that?” You quip with no malice, body wracked with shivers that aren’t entirely to blame on the cold anymore.

Puffs of his breath fan over your ear as he chuckles, “Wasn’t thinkin’ when I said it. Sorry.”

“S’ okay.” You lift your head so he has space to stretch out his arm, and the curve of your cheek bone fits snuggly into the crook of his elbow. You find his bicep makes a very comfortable pillow, “Your arm’s gonna fall asleep.”

“You comfortable?” He asks, and you nod, “Then I don’t much care.”

You pray he can’t feel your heart palpitating in your chest as you whisper, “Okay.”

The heat radiating off of him could rival a space heater cranked up to the highest setting. It’s doing wonders, thawing your own body and slowly bringing your temperature back up to something more human, less breathing corpse. He’s stiff as a board, though. The arm that isn’t under your head must be tucked tight against his side, and his bare legs are as far from yours as he can get them in the too-small sleeping bag. You want him and his warmth closer.

“You can touch me, Joel.” He stills, and it occurs to you how that must have sounded. “I mean, you’re not going to make me uncomfortable. You can relax.”

“Alright.” His voice is a low rumble in your ear as his hand just barely creeps over your bare waist. He’d be leaving goosebump in his wake if they weren’t already there. “This okay?”

It takes a moment to find your voice.

“Yeah.” It feels funny in your throat. You swallow in an attempt to fix it, “S’ good.”

You feel him finally relax, and try not to jump when he snakes his arm – his very naked arm – around your front, forearm flush against the soft flesh of your stomach and knuckles a little more than a hairs width from the underside of your breast. If you tilted your head just a bit and strained your eyes all the way to the side, you think you could catch a glimpse of his collarbone. You’re too cozy in his hold to move.

“Feelin’ any warmer?” Eyelids fluttering, you hum contentedly. The tip of his nose smushes firm into your shoulder as he murmurs, “Can’t fall asleep yet.”

“Please?” It must come out strangely by the way his breath hitches, “M’ warm enough. Swear.”

“That’s a load a bull if I ever heard it.” He snorts. The vibrations of his voice leave your skin humming, and it coaxes you further into him, “You’re lukewarm at best.”

“Word’s got ‘warm’ in it, doesn’t it?”

He tuts at you. You can hear his smile as he grumbles, “Don’t get smart with me.”

“You love it.”

He chuckles in strange way, “I do.”

Silence. Laying in his arms comes more naturally to you than it probably should. Especially given the fact that the two of you are mostly naked. And warm. So, so warm. Fatigue weighs down your eyelids. You’ve done so much today, you deserve the rest, it whispers.

“You fallin’ asleep over there?”

“Mm-mm.” You grumble, peeling your eyes wide open for a second to wake yourself some before they slide halfway shut again of their own accord, “Some old man keeps yapping in my ear every time I drift off.”

“You watch your mouth.” He growls, joking. Something stirs in your belly. You curse yourself for being too tired and too weak to do anything about it.

You settle for teasing instead. “Or what?”

He scoffs, “Frozen half to death, but still got ‘nough brains to give me lip, huh?”

“Mm-hm.” More silence. The sound of his breathing starts to lull you away into something too far from consciousness, and you drag yourself from it woefully, “F’ you want me to stay awake, you’re gonna have to talk my ear off, cowboy.”

“‘Bout what?”

“Anything.” Everything. Even if you weren’t trying to stay awake for the sake of staying alive, you’d let him ramble about whatever he wanted as long as he’d let you listen.

“Alright.”

He talks about the things he has to do when you get back to Jackson. Apparently, his work room needs a good tidying. When that gets too dull, he tells you about the movie he and Ellie watched last week for movie night. He asks obvious questions throughout explanations to keep you awake. ‘The guy working with the small green... thing, what was his name again? Right, now where was I?’ It feels like a good few hours before he lets you start to drift off. You fall asleep to the sound of his voice, the feel of his warm body tucked in close to your back, and dream of deep space and empires beyond your comprehension.

---

By the time you wake, sunlight is pouring in through the mouth of the cave, and the snow just beyond burns a horizon into your vision when you blink your eyes open. You stretch your legs out a little only to find them tangled between Joel’s. The movement must wake him because he takes a slow, sleepy breath, and squeezes closer.

“Joel?” You breathe. He startles.

“Wh-?” His head lifts and he tightens his hold on you for a split second, head on a swivel. When he realizes there’s no threat, he sighs heavily. You shudder when his arm slides over your bare stomach as he moves to scrub a hand over his face, “Christ.”

“Sorry.”

“S’ fine. My fault for fallin’ asleep.” He drawls, voice gravelly. You shift, and he scoots back just enough to let you turn over, “Time is it?”

“Definitely past dawn.” His eyes dart behind you, and he scowls at the sun. Yours follow the lean tendon in is neck as he lets his head fall back, and you suppress the urge to trace the length of it with your finger.

He curses, and it occurs to you that he hasn’t made much of an effort to disentangle himself from you. Now of sounder mind and warmer body, you notice the hair of his legs prickling against yours. You notice your bare chest pressed close to his, the steady rise and falls of them both as your breaths sync. Eyes trail up his collar, his neck, his face. Russet eyes bore into yours, and your breath hitches. They flick down to your lips. The little space left between you is charged; static electricity that spiders over your skin and lifts the hair on your arms.

“You, uh,” His hand skims over your skin once more; gentle, tentatively affectionate, as if he’s afraid to touch you now that you aren’t in need of his warmth. It settles into the curve of your waist like it’s meant to be there. He’s still staring at your lips. “You feelin’ any better?”

“Yeah.” You breathe. He looks back up at you, then, “Much.”

“Good.” He murmurs just as soft. His eyes dip back down to your lips.

You must be dreaming. Or dead. Or some other state of being beyond reality. Because there is no way he’s leaning in. There’s no way the tip of his nose is brushing yours. There’s no way he’s close enough that you can feel each one of his exhales fanning over your mouth.

“Joel...” It comes out a sigh, barely audible. You’re not even sure you’ve actually said anything aloud until he responds.

“Tell me to stop.” The words leave his lips in a low whisper and settle heavy on yours. You hold your breath as his hand sweeps over your ribs, the length of your collar. It envelops the entire side and back of your neck, igniting your skin as he draws a feather-like line over the edge of your jaw, “Tell me to stop, n’ I will.”

Any minute now, your heart is going to burst through your ribcage. You’re sure of it. Mind blank, you can’t think of anything to say. But you don’t want him to stop. You’ll never want him to stop. A shuddered breath, and you timidly press your the tip of your nose into the apple of his cheek, lips barely a hairs width from his. He turns his face just so, and you almost jump when his cupid’s bow just barely grazes your upper lip.

Your name sounds from somewhere far away, followed by his. The two of you startle, and in an instant, the moment is gone.

“Goddamn it, Tommy.” He huffs under his breath, rolling out of your space as much as he’s able within the confines of the sleeping bag. As glad as you are that someone’s found you, the man’s timing could not be any fucking worse.

“We best get dressed.”

“Yeah.” Your cheeks warm as he begins shimmying out from next to you, gaze catching on his broad chest, the soft muscle of his stomach, the hair trailing from his abdomen down somewhere lower, beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. You close your eyes before you can see anything more.

With him gone, you’re cold again. The frigid air nips at your bare chest, and you snuggle deeper into the sleeping bag until he’s done dressing. His clothes appear to be dry and fit to wear again. Yours are a different story, frozen solid in the shapes they landed in when you tossed them into a pile last night.

“Here.” Something soft plops down in front of your face, and when you open your eyes, there’s a stack of messily folded clothes on the stone floor with a sheepish looking Joel bent over his backpack a little ways away, “You can borrow those.”

Something warm and syrupy fills your chest and squishes between your ribs as you murmur, “Thanks.”

Keeping his gaze on the floor, he only hums in response. You take that as your cue to slide yourself out of the warmth of the sleeping bag. The only thing of yours that doesn’t need to be thawed is your bra, though it’s still cold against your skin as you slide your arms through the straps. Joel’s long sleeve is next. It’s soft, and smells like cedar and something uniquely him. You resist the urge to bury your nose in the fabric, too afraid he’ll decide to look up and catch you doing it.

When you’re done, you make your way to him and catch the quick once over he gives you.

“Like what you see?” You grin. He rolls his eyes.

He jerks his nose in the direction of your belongings, grumbling, “Get your stuff.”

You oblige, slinging your pack over your shoulders and stepping out into the sun after him. It blinds you, and the backs of your eyes ache as you blink to adjust them to the light. Luckily, the weather is significantly better today. No unexpected squalls, blue skies, and just a little warmer than yesterday.

“Tommy?” Joel suddenly calls out into the woods, his volume startling you bad. He grimaces, looking disproportionately apologetic, “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” You scoff, grinning playfully and shaking your head, “Nuh-uh, that was totally unforgivable.” You bump his shoulder with yours, “You’re really gonna have to make up for that.”

A dampened smile turns the corners of his mouth up as he bumps you back lightly, breathing a laugh, “Not a chance.”

“Joel?” Tommy calls back, closer than before. “This way!”

He’s brought a search party. A fair sized one, judging by how many voices respond at varying distances. It’s not long until you spot two people on horseback through the trees, one with familiar curls and a newer face with sandy blonde hair.

“Joel!” Tommy sounds utterly relieved as he slides off his gelding and engulfs him in a hug, clapping him over the shoulders before pushing him back, stern, “What the hell happened? We all thought you’d gotten yourselves killed!”

“One of us almost did.” Joel mutters, shooting a look at you. “Twice.”

Tommy gawps, looks like he’s about to ask before sighing in resignation. “You can tell me about it on the way home. Ellie’s been losin’ her mind since last night. Girl hasn’t slept a wink. Had to keep an eye on her to make sure she didn’t take off to find y’all by herself in the dark.”

Joel tuts and shakes his head, scrubbing a hand over his face, “You find our horses?”

“Yeah, Maria and Bev found ‘em early this mornin’.” He leads the two of you back towards his horse. “You’ll have ‘ta ride back with us.”

“I’ll ride with Jamie.” Jamie’s sort of new to Jackson, newer to you considering you’ve only been there about a year and he’s got a quarter more on you. He’s friendly, you like him. You have a feeling Joel holds a very different sentiment as he glowers, displeased as the man helps you up.

“Hold on tight.” He grins. Joel looks about one more dazzling smile from murdering him in cold blood.

He’s quiet the whole ride back, broody with his face set in a scowl. Tommy makes conversation here and there, asks what happened again and nearly breaks his neck when he whips his head to look at you in shock. You get similar reactions when you make it back to Jackson and explain.

“Joel!” Ellie flings herself at him and nearly bowls him over in her rush to hug him. You’re next, though with noticeably less force. You must still look a little rough, “What the hell happened?”

“We were passin’ over the lake n’ she fell through the ice.” He omits the part before that where you’d nearly gotten your face eaten by an infected, and for that, you’re thankful.

She pales, looking at you like you’ve grown an extra head, “You what?!”

“I’m fine.” You rush to reassure, glaring at Joel where he’s slipping the reigns off Tommy’s horse out of the corner of your eye, “It’s nothing to worry about now.”

“Like hell it ain’t.” He grumbles under his breath as he carefully slips the bit from the horse’s mouth and gives him a pat on the cheek, muttering a clipped ‘hey’ when you thwack his shoulder as hard as you’re willing. He gives Ellie a short, well meaning lecture that’s met with a very prompt dismissal consisting of some very colourful language as you move to help Jamie with his mare. Maria stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Jamie’s got it, you go home. I don’t want to see you working for the next couple of days, alright?”

“But-?”

She cuts you off with a firm shake of her head. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

“Alright.” You sigh, handing Jamie the reigns. As you’re leaving, you barely catch Joel whisper a ‘thank you’ to her and whip around to glower at him. “You’re responsible for my involuntary sick leave?”

“Necessary sick leave. And no, I’m not. You’re just known to be lackin’ in the self preservation department, so we gotta have some for you.” He teases, bumping your shoulder a little in a way you think is supposed to be playful. “C’mon. I’m walkin’ you home.”

“Yeah? Finally done with your brooding?”

He clicks his teeth, “M’ not brooding.”

“Not now, but you were.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Quit it.” He breathes a laugh, shaking his head. You grin, victorious.

“I’m serious, you scowled the whole way back. Between the cold and the time it took to get here, I was a little worried your face would get stuck like that. I’d never get to see that charming smile again.”

He rolls his eyes. “How would you ever survive?”

You both chuckle, before falling into comfortable silence. You pass house after house, before taking a right onto your street. Through their front window, you can see a couple you’ve yet to meet properly stands in their living room, swaying in an embrace, gazing at each other with an appreciation you only come to grasp when you’ve nearly lost someone. The man slides a hand from her waist to her cheek, thumbing the underside of her eye, and you’re reminded of the feel of Joel’s calloused palm holding your frigid cheek.

You frown, pulling your prying eyes from the sweet scene as you near your own home, “Hey, why’d you... hold my face for a second out there?”

He flushes, clears his throat with a frown, “Your pupils were so big, could barely see any colour.”

As you reach your porch, he looks deep in thought and- Worried? Rattled, maybe. Moreso as he softly admits, “You scared the hell outta me, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know.” In a rare act of bravery, you take his warm hand and squeeze, gazing at him earnestly, “I’m really sorry.”

He visibly softens, the perpetual wrinkle in his brow smoothing into something warmer, a little hesitant, dare you say even timid. You watch his gaze flick over your face before he squeezes back cautiously, “S’alright. Was my fault. Knew we shouldn’t a’ crossed that way this time a’ year.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I suggested it, it was my fault, too.” You reply, firm but gentle.

He looks down with a hum, scuffing the toe of a heavy boot over the concrete path that leads to your house. There’s a small silence, and you’re trying to find the words to assure him you were both idiots for trying to pass over that damn lake when he pipes up again.

“I meant it, before,” He smiles cautiously, unsure of himself, “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.”

You laugh, glad the mood has shifted to something lighter, still holding his hand as you shake your head, “I meant it too! I didn’t do it on purpose.”

He chuckles, looking down to your linked hands. You watch his expression carefully, and something bittersweet twists his lips when he gives yours one last squeeze before pulling away.

“See you ‘round, yeah?” Your heart sinks to your stomach and hollows it out, making room for a strange disappointment. Something that feels a little like grief as you watch what could have been as it slips through your fingers and takes half a step back from your porch.

“Yeah.” It soughs out on a breath that leaves your lungs too quick, and you take another, controlled and slow. You nod, smile tight lipped, “See you around, Joel.”

You turn, make it up the wooden steps of your porch and through the threshold of your door. It shuts, and you just stand there, snow melting off of your boots and coat and soaking into the door mat below. It feels wrong, leaving whatever happened between you undiscussed, and the hollow feeling pulses achingly in your throat. There’s something there, something palpable. Something that could be real, if only you would reach for it. You wish he would have reached for it. You wish you would reach for it now. But it’s impulsive. It’s reckless. He knows that, that’s why he left it alone. It needs more thought, you rationalize.

You turn on your heel and reach for the door handle. He’s already standing there with a hand raised to knock when it opens, looking as startled as you are.

“Listen, I-.” He clears his throat, shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. It’s endearing to see him so bashful, “What happened out there... I couldn’t not say somethin’.”

There’s too much air in your chest. Your vocal cords feel more like wind chimes – unpredictable, and at the mercy of something more so. You don’t trust your breath to sway them the way you want them to.

“Yeah?” You try anyway. It drifts out soft and hangs in the air.

“Yeah.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, glances over your shoulder with a sniff, then chuckles nervously, “Hadn’t actually thought about what that somethin’ would be ‘fore I did this.”

You chuckle with him; startled, shy.

“Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?” He asks like it’s easy, but the colour in his cheeks give him away. They’re a bit too pink for it to be just a cold flush.

Your stomach does a strange flip. You’ve waited months for him to ask, too afraid to ask yourself without knowing what his answer might be. You dig your thumbnail into the side of your index finger and rejoice at the pinch. He’s real, and he’s really asking.

The sound you make is halfway between a laugh and a sigh, “This is a little backwards, isn’t it?”

He frowns. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean, usually you take a lady out to eat before you sleep with her.” You simper, your teasing tentative. He stares at you, stunned, for a long, unbelievably nerve wracking moment.

“I take it back. I’ll eat by myself.” He laughs, shaking his head. He stays standing on your porch.

“Wha-,” You gape, laughing as you thwack his arm, “Hey, you already offered, you can’t take it back now!”

He smiles so terribly, wonderfully soft. “So I take it you do, then?”

God, it has to be illegal to look at someone like that, you think. It’s got to be some sort of health hazard, the way you feel as though you might just go into cardiac arrest right here on your porch. You smile, giddy and trying your damndest to smother it into something just a little less eager, “I’d love to have dinner with you, Joel.”

“How ‘bout tomorrow night? My place?”

“Yeah.” You can’t help the grin that sneaks up on you, “Yeah, that’d be good.”

He smiles back, soft and warm in a way you have a feeling is reserved for you, “Pick you up a six.”

“You’re right across the street, Joel.” You laugh, gesturing to the house maybe fifty paces from yours if you took long enough strides.

He chuckles along with you, “So?”

“So, I could just come over.”

“You could.” He shrugs a shoulder, grinning something that makes him look years younger; the ghost of a cheeky, twenty-something year old buried under as many years and then some, breathing his first breath in decades with heartbeat restored, “But what kind a’ gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk you there?”

“Alright.” You smile soft, committing his expression to memory. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Countin’ the minutes.” He takes your hand again and steps in close, leaning in to press his warm lips to the apple of your cheek, beard prickling ticklishly. Good god, you can’t feel your legs. Your is heart bouncing between your ribs so quick its making you a little lightheaded. You wonder if he’s grinning because he could feel the heat rising off your skin. He squeezes your tingling fingers and lets his slide from them slow like he’s loathe to leave. “See you ‘round.”

“See you around, Joel.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou #tlou fic #joel x reader #joel x you #joel x y/n

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thebisexualdogdad · 4 months ago

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Smutober day 20: Jason Todd x Male!reader - Killing time

It was 4am and after a long night of patrolling Gotham you and Jason arrived back at your apartment building ready for some well deserved sleep though the universe had other plans as it decided to stop the elevator on the way up to your floor.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me,” Jason grunts, pushing buttons as if it was going to do anything.

You wait a moment hoping it would turn on again but unfortunately it did not.

Jason attempts to pull the doors open but they are locked shut so you press the emergency call button.

You get through to someone but they tell you as it's so early in the morning they most likely won't be able to get help out to you for a few hours.

“Thanks for the fucking help asshole!” Jason shouts at the person in frustration.

Jason paces around the elevator, attempting to pull the doors open again to no prevail, Jason punching the door in response.

“Jay calm down that isn't gonna get us out of here any quicker,” you tell him.

“I just wanted to go to bed,” he sighs.

“Help will be here soon we just need to find something to kill time,” you say.

Jason thinks for a second and very casually replies, “you wanna have sex?”

“Are you serious?” You ask raising an eyebrow.

“Got anything better to do?” He shrugs.

You chuckle and shake your head, Jason stepping closer to you and kissing you.

He presses you up against the side of the elevator, the handrail digging into your back.

You make out for a while, Jason's thigh slotted in between your legs giving you friction as you grind down into it.

He snakes his down your pants, grabbing your growing erection.

“Fuck,” you moan as he toys with you the best he can within the restriction of your pants.

He retracts his hand and turns you around, quickly tugging your pants down around your ankles and he gets down to eat your ass.

“Jason,” you cry out, his tongue expertly working your hole.

He frees his own cock, stroking himself as he continued to prep your hole for him.

A few minutes later Jason gets back to his feet, slapping his cock against your ass to tease you.

“Ready for me?” He taunts.

“Fuck yes,” you groan and he roughly pushes his cock inside you bottoming out completely causing you to yelp.

He pulls out and repeats the action, your knees nearly giving out on you so you hold onto the handrail for dear life as he starts hastily thrusting into you.

Your cheek is pressed against the cold metal side of the elevator, your heavy breaths fogging it.

Jason has always been obsessed with your ass, he intently watches the way it jiggles while he fucks you, occasionally giving you a nice hard slap.

“Does that feel good babe?” He asks you cockily.

“So good, so fucking good Jay,” you groan.

You don't know how long it's been since you became stuck in the elevator but the way Jason was pounding into you you could stay in here forever.

“God I love fucking your ass,” he grunts, giving you another slap.

“You gonna cum in me?” You smile, looking back at him over your shoulder while you reach down and begin jerking yourself off.

“Of fucking course I am,” he says moving his hips even faster and soon he is moaning when he cums deep inside you.

“Fuck yes,” you cry out feeling him fill you up with cum.

Jason is determined to make you cum before he gets soft so he continues to thrust his hips until he hears you moaning as you spray the side of the elevator with cum.

Before you can even collect yourselves the doors to the elevators open but it's not any repairmen, it's Dick.

“What the hell are you doing here Grayson,” Jason huffs, pulling out of you and stuffing his cock back in his pants while you quickly pull yours back up.

“Babs got an sos from Y/N,” he says staring up at the ceiling trying not to look at you guys getting redressed.

You look down at your watch and see at some point you accidently sent an emergency alert to Barbara at the clock tower, “oops.”

“Well at least you guys found a way to keep yourselves busy,” Dick chuckles.

#dc comics imagine #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #x male reader #fic

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mooishbeam · 2 years ago

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『♡』 Cruel Prince

♡ featuring: villain!diluc ragnvindr x princess!reader

♡ summary: you are forced to marry the manipulative prince of a faraway kingdom. malicious compliance ensues. wc: 3.2k+

♡ cw/tw: afab, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, forced orgasm, hate sex, no foreplay, breeding, heavy choking, spanking, face slapping, spit, creampie, hair pulling, rough sex, diluc is mega possessive

notes: I promiseee im gonna come out with shorter fics im so sorry i couldn't help myself the fanart is so good :(( art by eriimyon on twitter <3

Brilliance freckled through the silk drapes of your extravagant windows and onto your resting face. A silhouette rubs your arm, followed by “You must wake now, Your Grace.” Her amiable tone made your heavy eyes ajar, looking up to see the sweet twinkle of the maid. You sit up and stretch, letting out an exaggerated yawn. “Good morning!” you exclaim. She tucks the straggly hairs aside.

“Good afternoon, you mean?”

“Oh. Oops.” She shakes her head and hands you a lukewarm meal. This was a frequent occurrence, staying up late to twirl in your room until your feet ached. Fantasizing about the enchanting gambol you would share with your lover. When you eventually collapsed, you would dream of a man whisking you off to dance in a meadow. Being confined to the limited space of the baroque palace only intensified your curiosity. The kingdom your parent's shoulder is fruitful. Lined with riches and grateful civilians, all you know is comfortability. That comfortability bored you.

“The king would like to speak with you downstairs once you’ve settled” she states. You give an exasperated sigh and flop onto the featherbed. You weren’t looking forward to this meeting. “M’kay. Thanks. Love you.”

You make your way toward the dining room after breakfast. Almost every painting you skip by is of your older brother. It was no secret that you weren’t the favorite child. Your father wasn’t particularly fond of having a daughter. You slide down the railing of the grand staircase, entering the still air. Even the sound of your tiptoes carries volumes in complete quiet.

“Did... someone die?” you say, trying to break the ice. Your brother and mother sit across from each other with their heads down, afraid to interrupt the king who sat at the end of the dining table.

“No. Have a seat (Y/N).” he says, his hand signaling to the multitude of chairs remaining. You take the middle. Your father looks more stressed than usual, crescent shapes embedded between his eyebrows.

“There is something we have to discuss” he proclaims, interlocking his fingers. “Sure.”

“There’s been some disputes... between us. And the kingdom of Ragnvindr. Their king has been ill for many years now.”

“That’s too bad for them” you say, checking out of the conversation. You know of the Ragnvindrs, but you weren’t interested. “It is. However, their commerce is flourishing. The civilians have an excess of resources. They’re the central hub for wine. If we had access to that, we could provide greatly for the public.”

“Mm, okay.” Your mind darts to unique spots of detail decorating the ceiling.

“Do you remember talking to Prince Diluc?” It hadn’t jogged your memory until now, but you recall one time the flaming redhead came to the palace a few months ago. You saw him in passing; exchanging few words in light-hearted conversation before he met with your father. You noted the calm scarlet pupils and his attentiveness when you spoke. He seemed amicable until you uncovered the rumors. Whenever your mother invited her friends, the walls would erupt with gossip. You couldn’t help but listen through the door. “- he tried to kill his father!” Your mother declines but another woman chimed in. “People don’t get suddenly ill like that. He must’ve poisoned him! The poor man can’t talk anymore so Prince Diluc runs everything.”

“He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. Anyone who disagrees with him is beaten. Even death!” you heard the dramatic drawl of another. “Oh please, not with his brother around.” You thought it was funny and went straight to the maid to parrot their pompousness. It wasn’t until his brother died in their home weeks later under “mysterious circumstances”, that you started to take the allegations seriously.

“He’s shaping out to be an exceptional young man.”

“I guess. Why are you telling me this?” you ask. Your father sucks in a breath.

“You are to marry Prince Diluc in a week’s time.” he declares. You freeze, beads of sweat collecting on your forehead. Your heart dropped to your stomach.

“What? Whe- who decided this?”

“It was a collective decision from me, your mother, and the Ragnvindrs.”

“No! I didn’t get to decide. You took away my choice!”

“(Y/N), this will ensure peace for both of our kingdoms. We shall do what’s best for the-”

“I don’t know who he is. How could you do that to your own daughter, what kind of father marries their child off to a stranger?” Your voice gets increasingly louder. You were too irate to back down. Your father is seething.

“We will not argue about this-” he mumbles, the veins on his hands bulging from the tightening fists.

“Do you even know who he is? He killed his own brother, and his people fear his retaliation. He’ll backstab you at any chance if it means more power. He’s using you-”

“ENOUGH!” Your father slammed his leaden fists on the table, causing a harrowing bang to ring in your ears. All you can do is look at him, shaking, searching for any semblance of hope. He was unwavering.

“I hate you.” Your defeated voice falls to a murmur, and you stumble to your room in a haze.

The next 6 days were vague. You stayed in your room mostly, the maid accompanying you as you cry on and off for hours. Rage burned inside you, it dented furniture and ripped up cushions. You were exhausted and vengeful. An instructor comes by occasionally to teach you for your wedding day, but you find no joy in it.

You're tranquil in the luxuriant flower garden you once found solace in. A garden you’d never see again after tonight. Suddenly, you hear the gate creak open. Strawberry strands peek behind the sunflowers. It was Diluc. The silence was painful. “Hello.”

“Hello. I figured it would be considerate to come see you briefly” he returns, grabbing your hand. You catch yourself staring.

“We are to be married soon.”

“...Right.”

“You don’t seem to be happy about this arrangement.”

“I’m sure you have many requests for your hand in marriage. Why me?”

“I don’t have a say in it. You don’t either.” That can’t be right, their king is senile you thought.

“That’s not true. I know what you’re really like.” His eyes narrow into yours. “You could turn this entire kingdom to ash if you willed it.”

“You know naught of me.”

“You killed your brother and now you’re after my father, aren’t you?” He’s relaxed despite the accusations.

“What would you do? As long as we are wedded, you will obey.” You snatch your hand from him.

“I will do no such thing” you utter, holding your head high. He laughs and lifts your chin with a finger, his thumb softly rubbing your cheek.

“Such a naïve princess, so far beneath me. You will be mine. Act accordingly.” You want to slap that smug look off his face.

“I’ll be going now. Don’t stay up too late.”

Everything about your wedding is opulent. Visitors sport grandiose garments and intricate jewelry, leaving priceless gifts in your celebration. The travel to the kingdom of Ragnvindr was silent, minus the glares you shot to your parents. You disappear the minute you step down the aisle, taking notice of the guests. Faceless people with appropriated smiles and forced words of kindness; a scornful masquerade.

Your vows are pitiful, and you wear an ingenuine smile for every “aww” in attendance. “I do” is said, and your fate is sealed through a chaste kiss.

The dance arrived sooner than you thought. The floor was large and elegant, a thousand eyes watching you at the start of the staircase. You almost get stage fright. Diluc waits at the bottom, his gloved hand longing to take yours. You saunter to him. You expected him to be stiff and unprepared, but as you held his hand something changed. He scoops you by the waist with the other and twirls you around, igniting the music. His steps are effortless, bringing you near him and releasing you for another spin. The movements lift you into a different scene, of green pastures and bright blue sky. Only you and Diluc. The tune curled in your ears and whispered radiance. Your stride is loose, guided by the inducing notes and swinging pendant on your neck. Your arms glide past his chest and he steadies you gently in an intimate embrace. Dilucs lips barely hover over your ear.

“You look stunning.”

“I know. You look grotesque.” You feel a puff of wind against your ear. Glancing at him, you haven’t paid much attention to his appearance until now. His physique seemed to be chiseled from the finest marble, intentional with each contour. He smelled of musk and bitter vanilla, the warm glow of glittering chandeliers highlighting his rugged features.

“You like what you see, hmm?” You didn’t reply.

“Do you like to dance?”

“It’s not your business.”

“Well, if I'm right, you can dance here every day if you want. But you must behave.” His honeyed words made you hot, and you looked away. “No. You are my enemy.”

“Very well, then.” He continued to entrap you, sewing seeds in your brain through the sway of your bodies. You were tangled in a field of thorns, pricked by his fleeting romantic gestures. It confused and enticed you. But the dance came to its end, and reality set in. He leaned down to kiss your hand, his gaze never leaving yours. The music resumes its normal pace, motioning people to return to the dance floor.

The idea of Diluc displaying you like property tests your pettiness; you need his unruffled persona to snap. He watches you dance into the arms of another man, and you’re sure to make eye contact with him. You flash a mischievous smile as you spin through the exuberant crowd, leaving him behind. You thought you lost him. Just then, shade abruptly comes down on you and the nameless man. He turns first, cowering and slinking into the masses. You don’t face the shadow until your face is grabbed by leather and twisted sharply to encounter the reddening face of Diluc.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“If I’m beneath you, this shouldn’t bother you, right?” you say, smiling at your ability to break him.

He grits his teeth. “You are forbidden from interacting with any man.”

“By whom? Your words mean nothing.” He gets closer to you; a death stare bore into your pleased expression. “If you’re angry, do something.”

You’ve never been hauled anywhere this fast. He pulled you through the bustling room and up the stairs with absurd force, not turning to you once. You were nearly hovering off the ground from his strength. He opened the sculpted doors leading to his bedroom and pushed you inside. Before you can see him, he pins you between himself and the ornate vanity. His nails stab into the wood the more he waits for your explanation.

“What happened to your composure?” you taunt.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Not yours.” His lips share space with yours, noses scarcely touching.

“Sorely mistaken. You belong to me.”

“Prove it.”

Carnal lust washed over you. Your lips instantly collide, cracking dams of yearning through sloppy kisses and smacking teeth. His tongue is demanding and seeks entry, but you deny him. He grabs your neck tightly.

“Open.”

“Say please.” Diluc pries your lips open with his fingers, playing with the wet mass while he nips your ear. The foreign feeling in your mouth makes your mind numb.

“Nasty little minx.” he husks, forcing your tongue to stick out before it contacts his. His kisses are deep and primal, holding you close to the point of merging. He’s squeezing your neck occasionally and teasing the dizzying airflow. The fire cascading down his back envelopes you in a slow bleed, tickling your chest and face. His scent surrounds you, exhilarates you. You pierce his bottom lip with your teeth, looking to regain some sense of control and he groans from the feeling. He promptly hoists you off the ground with your back facing the vanity and his hands on your ass. His greed doesn’t stop, plunging and contorting the organ in unreachable places. You taste sprinkles of metallic flavor. The sensation has your knees weak. You push him away, both breathing heavily with a trail of spit between you.

“This is nothing like the ceremony kiss.”

“Don’t you want my full honesty?” he rasped. He dips down to your upper thigh, past the slit in your dress. His pointed fangs catch onto your garter, and he slips it off, groping the plush flesh as he lifts your leg up. Your fingers intertwine with his scalp and tug it, earning a harsh bite on your inner thigh. Rough kisses drag up your body until he makes it back to your lips. You tear his button-down open, navigating the solid muscle under the fabric. Light purple marks are left in your wake that decorate his collarbone. Diluc splits your dress down the back and shreds it off you. You're soaked, relishing in the volatile nature beyond the mask.

He picks you up and hurls you on the bed, following you on top. You wrestle for dominance, entwined in passion. Somehow, Diluc ends up underneath you, your legs on both sides of him. You take this opportunity to pin his wrists and grind on his throbbing length. He lets you have it knowing that he’s stronger than you are. He kicks off his slacks and you pull down his stained boxers. A sudden fear hits you once they’re removed; his slightly curved cock was impossibly long and girthy, precome trickling down the angry tip. You weren’t sure it would fit.

“You’re just going to gawk at it?” he says, restless from the ache. Nervousness blends in your gut. You wanted him badly, but you had to make him suffer for at least some time. Hovering over it, you slather his tip in your juices and admire the way he bites his lip. You lower your folds onto him, submerging the cockhead and leave it there, stirring your hips with it inside only to pull it out. Diluc is disheveled, star fished, and spread wildly across the sheets as he grunts from each plunge. He had to feel you, to claim you.

“You want it?”

“I don’t beg” he says flatly. You roll your eyes, immersing his shaft halfway. He releases a long shaky groan and attempts to buck his hips, but you rise before he can go further. His cock was covered in syrupy fluids from the moments of friction, and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

“You won’t get anything with that repulsive attitude” you tease, and start moving at a leisurely pace, carefully stretching yourself out.

“Repulsive, yet using me for your desires?”

“That’s all you’re good for.” You’re shuddering from the feeling of your walls molding to the bruising size.

“Then I’ll be sure to satisfy you.” His calloused fingers break out of your sparing clutch and grab your hips, jerking you down to the hilt with a soggy plap. The wind is knocked out of you, shockwaves through your spine as you heaved over trembling. It hurts, but you can’t help but feel aroused by the desperate look he gave you. “Mm good, you’re sucking me so tight.”

“Shit- slow down-” you plead. He wraps his arms around your hips, arching your back and leaning you forward. “Quiet.” Diluc bends his knees and begins to bully his way into your cunt. His thrusts are unforgiving, if he wasn’t holding you in place, you’d be airborne. He slips out completely and rams into you so deep it feels like he's burrowing into your stomach; yet you grip him like a vice, hungry for more. You were melting and all you heard was his quick beating heart and the wet squelching clash of your bodies. Diluc shifts to the vanity mirror opposite the bed, entranced by the violent rippling of your ass and sticky strings your puffy vulva left. You’re teeming on an orgasm, blurring the lines of pleasure and pain.

“I’m gonna come- ah!” His hands move to your ass, striking each side hard enough to welt numerous times. He digs his nails into the searing flesh, savoring it. “Louder, I want everyone to know who owns you” he says and pushes his fingers in your mouth to pull your jaw slack. You deliver, allowing your erotic wails to echo through the halls. “Come for me princess.” His command sends you over the edge and you’re dissolved into pleasure, zeroing in on his guttural moans, the low fuck’s stuttering out of him. Your nails score his chest. He spreads your backside, enjoying the view of your convulsing heat drenching his balls.

Diluc flips you over on your back before you’re done gathering yourself. He tosses the damp shirt on the floor and reveals the crisp v-line deliciously carved under his sculpted abs. He manhandles you into a pretzel, securing your sore thighs. He puts his hands on yours and pushes them back further. “Fucking filthy, you’re such a mess” he says, smearing his leaking shaft up and down your hypersensitive clit. He quickly engulfs himself in your gooey warmth again and sighs. “You’re beautiful like this.” He’s pounding hard, foreheads touching and breath mixing. You’re both sweating, mascara running down your cheeks and needy moans leaving either of you from addictive ecstasy. His tip licks your sweet spot consistently and your eyes loll back. “That’s it, take my cock like a good wife.” One hand reaches for your throat while the other flicks your clit rapidly. The firm grip dots your vision black, and you pulse from sick delight. He stops occasionally to slap you across your face. It stings, you hate him, but the spasming veins caressing your walls make you question that belief. “Oh my god - look at you” he moans, staring at the shiny white ring forming at the base of his thrusts. Your hands find passage in his thick tresses and guide his attention to you. The coil threatened to snap at any minute. “Gonna carry my baby, then you can never leave.”

Your blood runs cold. “Huh? Wait-” You try to budge but he’s stronger than you, sweeping the nub faster with ravenous strokes. Electricity consumes your rational thoughts with a thumping finish, cloudy and fluttering. “Ngh- you’ll look so pretty with a belly” Diluc groans and chases his high. His eyes are glossed over, he throws his head back and finally falls apart, creamy ropes coating your insides with his balls flush against you. He pants as if he’s moved mountains and twitches from slow strokes, trying to get his come as deep in you as possible. His thumb presses upon your lips and you instinctively open your mouth. Spit settles on your tongue and he watches you swallow. You taste his kiss right after. When he pulls out, globs of semen dribble out your slit, but he fingers it back inside.

“Keep it in” he says darkly. He glances at the pendant you’re still wearing—an invaluable heirloom from your parents—and snatches the chain off your neck. In one devastating hurl, he shatters it on the floor. “I’ll make sure you only have me.”

#genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #diluc x you #diluc smut

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1-800-local-slut · 21 days ago

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Girl I would kill for more stilesx black reader smut!!

Thinking about...

Stiles, who gets horny when he's stressed. He's tired and thinking about practice tomorrow and considering skipping school but he knows he has too many absences and is one week away from repeating junior year. It's 2:30 in the morning, he just crawled through his bedroom window and flopped onto bed when he remembered the homework that was worth 60 points of his grade.

So, he drinks some coffee and prepares for an all nighter. He's studying, scrolling through pages of his online textbook, and all the pressure is mounting on his shoulders. Even Stiles has a breaking point for math.

During a spontaneous break, Stiles takes a scroll through Instagram. One thing leads to another, and he's clicking through your story, then through your highlights. His fingers automatically go to the highlight he's spent a gross amount of time looking at, your summer highlight

He's getting hard, staring at your tits in the swimsuit he helped you pick out at the mall, and imagining what it would look like slipping you out of that swimsuit top. Or maybe keeping it on.

One more thing leads to another and now his hand is down his pants. Oops!

He's now a red, pathetic mess. He's rubbing his thumb over the tip and sending shivers through his entire body, his eyes hyper focused on the image he has saved on his computer of you two posing where just enough of your cleavage was visible and he could see a bit more of one of your boobs than the other. The outline of your hips, and he's imagining what in between your thighs look like. Ultimately it would be as beautiful as the rest of you but still!

He promised himself he wouldn't do this again. How gross could he get? Jerking off, literally humping his hand from overstimulation while zooming in on the part of Scott's story where you were laying down on your stomach in the back, and Stile's had a dream like view of your perfect ass covered by your tights. He promised himself yesterday that he would stop jerking off to one of his best friends, but he truly couldn't help it!

He's stressed like all the time, and for some reason his brain always turns stress into the urge to hump something. His mattress in his sleep, his hand, you. Oh god, the urge to rub up on you was strong

Whenever he sees you, applying lip liner and gloss to your thick lips, whenever he sees you reclining in the sun with light sparling off your dark skin, when he gets a full view of the perfect roundness of your ass, when he noticed your shorts slide over once during a group sleep over and he saw a bit of your plain underwear, when you randomly put him in a bonnet and he's engulfed by your scent for just a moment.

It isn't his fault! Ever since he had a dream about you dry humping him, Stiles's hasn't been able to really think straight. And with the regular stress of his life, it was only getting worse.

Right now, he's struggling to keep his voice down. Eyes rolling to the back of his skull and legs shaking as he stood up to try to avoid cumming on the bottom of his desk like some sort of pervert and ended up cumming on his own stomach. The second the warm liquid touched him, so did his shame.

Oh yeah, you can't focus on your homework, but you can touch yourself while you think of your friend dry humping you while she wears a cheetah print strapless mini dress? Good job man. Real good job.

Well, at least he could focus now.

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺

Here you go! I feel like Stiles would be a gooner sometimes. Like not typically but sometimes he goes a little crazy and is the type to rub himself sore. We know he's very imaginative, so I can imagine him having a really good sex dream and going insane over it. Now I'm tempted to write more about gooner Stiles who feels guilty for being a gooner </3

#black reader #x black reader #x reader #fem reader #multifandom account #requests open #teen wolf smut #teen wolf x black reader #stiles x black reader #stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski x black reader #gooner behavior

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spacequokka · 1 month ago

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Nobody But You

Pairing: Crown Prince! BamBam x Reader Genre: Royalty AU, Fluff Rating: M (sorry children) Summary: You're paid to kill the young king and learn your contract wasn't exclusive. So naturally, you switch teams. Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: language (it's me after all), violence, blood, minor character deaths

A/N: Well, this one ran away from me. The urge to write for Assassin's Creed found me again but oops wrong fandom? I hope you enjoyed my little royalty au with Got7! <3

It isn't often that you go against a paid contract. You're good at what you do and it's easy money. Good money. So when you were approached for a high-profile kill, you anticipated all the ways you'd spend the money afterward. It was more than enough to take a vacation, maybe even retire and start life anew following your dreams.

Sure, it was at the expense of the newly crowned King, but it was a lot of money. And you happened to like money.

The night was crisp with a chill that quickly settled in your bones. Your breath lingered in the air as a cloud with each soft exhale. At three in the morning, the castle grounds were as still as death. Nothing moved and no one made a sound. You leaned against the cool stone wall of the castle, heart racing with excitement. The moonlight cast an eerie glow over everything, illuminating the path ahead. A week of recon suggested the job would be simple--slip in through the hidden entrance, go up to his chambers and quietly end his life. The guards on duty would likely be asleep, but you had tranquilizer darts just in case. Sneak back out and come morning you'd collect your paycheck after the body was discovered by his maids.

So then, why did you hear whispers and rustling noises ahead of you?

Peeking around the corner, you spotted a couple of figures creeping along the wall using the shrubs as cover. They were dressed in dark cloaks, not so quietly discussing their plans.

"That idiot has no idea what's coming," one sneered.

Exhibit A on why you needed to vet your employers before taking a contract. The desperate ones with money to throw away tended to hire one too many people for the job. You would think your reputation and immaculate record would be all the reassurance needed that the job would get done. But no. Being a woman seemed to wash away all of those accolades.

Unfortunately, besides being skilled and competent, you were also extremely petty. No one steals your contract or the cash associated with it. If anyone was killing the King, it would be you or no one at all.

You unsheathed your dagger, eyes set on a new prey. The night might be a bust, but you wouldn't go home without taking your anger out on those responsible. An unseen leaf gave away your approach seconds before you drove your blade up to the hilt through one of their backs.

"What the hell?" The other one looked on in horror for a solid second before thinking to draw his own weapon. He moved too slow. You shoved his dying friend forward and off your blade, striking quickly with a slash across his throat. The resulting blood splatter spiked your ire up another notch. You should've known better. Now you needed a bath, too. With a huff, you cleaned your blade off on one of their cloaks and went to sheath it when you heard a shout followed by the sounds of a fight.

Nope. Don't do it. Don't go in there and get involved. Go home, shower, get in bed and try again tomorrow.

Ugh, but what if he doesn't live to see tomorrow?

You stomped your foot and groaned, stepping over the bodies and through the hidden entrance.

Inside the castle was consumed in chaos. Royal guards and knights were engaged in battle with all sorts of mercenaries and assassins, most of which you knew personally. Just how many people were hired to kill the King?!

"Arrrgh!" Some poor, misguided guard saw you and took it upon himself to deal with you. He would've stood a chance had he not announced his intent with his little war cry, allowing you to dodge his sword and clip his feet. He lost his balance and fell into the wall beside you, knocking himself out in the process. Because of course, he would. Surely the King would have better, daresay smarter, fighters defending him, right?

Right?

You wanted to kick your own ass as you picked up the guard's sword. There'd be no sleeping tonight if you didn't make sure your target would make it through the night. It wouldn't be too hard to make it up to his room, check on him, then disappear amidst the chaos. Just a peek, that's it. Nothing more.

You headed for the corridor leading to his chambers and cursed when you saw another person in black tiptoeing through the dimly lit hall. Just what in the Julius Caesar hell was going on around here? The idiot didn't even notice you following him, too busy avoiding being seen by the guards rushing about in search of intruders. 'Amateurs.'

To top it off, there were no guards stationed by the king's bedroom door! You'd thought of Julius Ceasar as a joke earlier but the situation was closer to that than you'd imagined. The man hadn't been on the throne for more than a few days and already someone had gone through so much trouble to ensure it wouldn't be longer than that.

Just as the man reached the door, you made your move. "Not so fast," you hissed in his ear. He yelped as he turned to face you only to have your sword shoved into his chest. Flailing wildly, he fell back against the door with enough force to break the hinges, falling through the doorway.

The king and the assailant he was fighting off both stopped for a moment to look at you.

"Another one?!" BamBam shouted at the same you groaned.

"You've got to be kidding me. Did he hire everyone in the damned kingdom?" You yanked the sword out of the body as you stepped into the room. "I'm trying not to take this personally, but it's beginning to be insulting."

"Is that you, _____?" The attacker kicked BamBam away using his foot on his chest. "He's my kill. Get out of here."

You rolled your eyes. "Have you not seen the state of things outside? Everyone's here to kill him." You gave the King an apologetic smile. Grimace? "No offense, Your Majesty. Nothing personal."

"None taken, I suppose." When he tried to get to his feet, the man lunged at him again with his weapon poised to drive through BamBam's chest. You moved swiftly, tackling him and grabbing the dagger. Someone yelled out--it wasn't you--as the struggle resumed, this time with you driving your elbow into the man's ribs, weakening his hold.

The minute he realized you had the upper hand, he used his free hand to grab your throat and squeezed with all his might. Being the brute he was, his grip was incredible. The urge to let go of your weapons in favor of yanking on his hand was strong, but you knew it'd be the last thing you'd do if you did. Your grip on his dagger weakened as you became light-headed, air and time running out.

There was shuffling that sounded far away to your ears before a heavy book dropped down on the man's face making him jerk and let go of his weapon. It was the break you needed, as you turned the dagger in your hand and jabbed it through his ribs and up into his chest. He cried out with a wet cough, blood coating his lips as his hand left your throat. You drew in a deep breath, making your vision blur as you rolled off him, but not before driving your dagger into his heart.

"Holy shit!" There was what sounded like a stampede at the doorway before two men appeared at the King's side, helping him up to his feet and away from you and the dead assassin. "Your Majesty, are you hurt?"

"Nothing more than a few bruises, Eunwoo." He forced a laugh. "Thanks to her."

This was the opposite of being unseen. You groaned as you rolled over, blinking to force your vision to clear while breathing deeply. The quicker you pulled yourself together, the quicker you could escape before the guards tried to deal with you.

"No doubt she's here to collect on the bounty on your head as well. Take her to the dungeon--"

"No! Wait, Mingyu. She saved me!" BamBam pulled away from his knights. "She put herself in harm's way to keep him from killing me."

"Because she can't claim money for someone else's work." Mingyu looked at you, mouth set in a sneer. "She didn't do it out of the kindness of her heart, Your Majesty."

Yeah, this wasn't looking good for you. Using the sturdy oak dresser as a crutch, you pulled yourself to your feet. "Don't mind me. I'm just gonna go home and hopefully sleep off this nightmare." You touched your throat delicately and tried to clear your throat. "I'll be on my way."

One of the knights cut off your path to the door, hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. "Not so fast. You heard him. You're not going anywhere."

"For heaven's sake, will you two listen to me?" BamBam pushed his way over to you and stood between you three. "She saved my life! I owe her for that, no matter the reason she's here." He turned to you, eyes going to your throat. He reached for you and you flinched but when you didn't move to stop him, his fingers traced the marks left behind from the struggle. "Your beautiful skin..."

You shrugged and gave him a shy smile. "I've had worse. It'll heal."

His gaze flicked up to yours and he bit his lip. "Are you really here to kill me too?"

"Was. I don't like competition."

"Wait," Mingyu looked at you with an expression you couldn't decipher. "You took out more than just these two?" He pointed at the two dead bodies.

Your mouth opened and closed as you contemplated admitting to more crimes right there in the King's face. When you didn't answer, BamBam tapped your cheek to bring your attention back to him. "How much were you promised?"

"Um," you licked your lips and wished you had your weapon on you. That other knight looked jumpy. "One hundred thousand."

BamBam nodded as the curious look in his eyes morphed into something dangerous as the wheels in his head turned. "I'll triple that if you agree to be my bodyguard."

"Your Majesty!"

"That's insane!"

You gulped and he noticed seeing as his hands were still on your neck and cheek. Why hadn't he let go? Why was he still so close? "I don't think your men will let that fly."

"Your fate is not up to them. Clearly, I need more skilled fighters on my side if I'm to remain on the throne. And it wouldn't hurt to have such a deadly, beautiful woman at my side. So what do you say?"

#got7writerscollective #kvanity #lapydiariesnet #got7 royalty au #got7 drabbles #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #bambam x reader #bambam x you #bambam imagines #bambam scenarios #bambam drabbles #bambam royalty au #got7 x reader #got7 x you #got7 suspense #bambam suspense #rating: m

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lightofthemoonglow · 1 year ago

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kinktober day seven and eight

Virginity | Waxplay | Stuck in Wall

Breeding | Gore | Master & Slave

third person reader because that is how it turned out oops

Sequel here

Thomas Hewitt

The day had finally come.

The wedding dress is older than the bride. The bride is considered an adult in every part of the world, in basically every sense. And yet she still wears a dress that Luda Mae had brought for herself a long time ago, back when she had hopes for a whole other life that had never come to pass. It’s obvious why she’s doing this, but it’s harmless in comparison to everything else about the situation.

One interaction had been all it had taken for this deal to be worked out. The bride had come from a family of carnival workers that had passed through Travis County that had decided to stick around, her mother becoming friendly with Luda Mae despite the two of them living seemingly very different lives. All the girl had done was shyly ask Tommy about his job at the slaughterhouse as she offered him a bowl of the chili she had brought over. This was some good meat. I bet you had something to do with it. And Luda Mae had noticed the shift in her son’s body language, how he wasn’t as on guard as he normally was for a moment.

It had started as joke between the two mothers. And then they had started seriously discussing it. It made sense. The pool of candidates was already small and neither of their children were exactly…popular. The bride had struggled to finish school after fighting tooth and nail to get in. Thomas had dropped out. Their families were already close. And then, the tornado happened, killing the bride’s father. It was as good a time as any, they had figured. The town was dying slowly, the writing was on the wall. They needed to make it happen before the bride left town for good.

And so, they had wound up in the backyard of the house, the town preacher pronouncing the young couple man and wife, on edge due to the gun that Charlie had aimed at him, ready to pull the trigger if this marriage wound up not being true in the eyes of the lord. While he didn’t believe in that shit, Luda Mae did and his sister’s word was law in their home. The bride was a vision in antique white, her voice trembling as she said ‘I do’. Thomas only grunted in response, Charlie snapping ‘the boy damn well does!’ when the preacher tried to get the larger man to speak.

“I’m glad it’s you,” Luda Mae says to the bride after the cake has been cut and everyone is milling about the yard, the preacher nowhere to be seen. He would never be seen again, but no one would notice or care. “You always had a kind word for my boy.”

And for the first time since her hesitantly uttered vows, the bride speaks. “Of course. He’s a good boy. This was all just a little fast, Mrs. Luda Mae.” But that was intentional, something she would realize later. The mother of the bride had all but dragged her down the aisle. The woman had cried, wailed as she told her daughter that she need to do this, so she could be taken care of, implying that it wouldn’t be long until the bride’s parents were reunited.

After the party, the happy couple was led upstairs, where they were to stay all night. “I want a grandbaby by next spring,” Luda Mae instructed. It wasn’t the wistful dreaming of a woman who yearned to more little ones to spoil. Well, it was, but her tone was that of an order. They were going to grow the family, one way or another.

The room was dim, the sun peeking through the curtains. Thomas makes no move to take off his mask, choosing to just stare at his new wife as she walked towards the bed. The dress is pulled off, revealing a white slip covering her everyday undergarments. She folds it up, so it can be put away in the morning. Maybe it will even be used again one day. The sun shines down on her as she lays on the bed, waiting for him to join her.

“It’s alright. If you…want to.” She speaks softly, not approach him too closely. “I know your mama said that we have to, but I can wait.” Thomas is staring at her, watching her legs twitch slightly, fascinated by the dark peaks on her chest. Her breathing is steady, she’s not looking for an escape. Her eyes are meeting his whenever he allows it. Thomas knows what to do. He’s seen farm animals do it and Charlie had shown him a movie once, short and filthy. Luda Mae had found out about it and been cross for weeks.

The real thing is different. Thomas feels almost cornered as he tentatively touches the hem of the slip. His fingers graze her bare skin and he flinches, which makes her sit up and grab his hand.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” she coos, stroking his hand with her thumb. “Tommy…I know neither of us exactly wanted this to happen. But if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it was you. I’ve always liked you.” His face didn’t matter to her, she didn’t care that he had to hide what had been eaten away by the sickness inside of him. He wasn’t going to kiss her, he couldn’t get to that point. Not yet.

They needed to do what was expected of them first.

It takes a while, the sun is almost gone when Thomas is finally ready to get on top of her, still mostly dress, only his nice trousers unzipped. She’s naked, comfortable with allowing him to see, to explore. Her body is warm, soft, and he’s so hard it hurts until he pulls it out of his trousers. But he doesn’t put it in, not yet. He can’t quite manage that last little bit of movement, not yet.

“It could happen, Tommy. Us havin’ a baby because of tonight.” She strokes his arm, not touching his face, not until he’s ready. And maybe that won’t be tonight. “I like the idea. Go on and feel how much, darlin’.” She spreads her legs slightly to let him know he could touch her. His prodding fingers found something warm and wet, and when he pushes, a finger slips inside. “It’s good when it’s wet like that. Means I’m excited. Like you are now.”

Another fingers joins the first and she gasps, but she doesn’t stop him. “We could make a baby tonight. You and me…” The images start coming to Thomas as he fingers explore her. His wife’s belly swollen with their child, her tits full of milk, everyone knowing that she belonged to him and only him-

He’s inside of her before he can stop himself. She gasps, grabbing onto his shoulders as his cock fills her up. Her breasts bounce as he thrusts, slow and experimental at first. “Good boy, good boy,” she whispers, her body suddenly filles with sensations she’s never felt before. Thomas is equally overwhelmed, she’s so warm and wet and good and hot and everything he’s ever wanted. She’s gripping onto him tightly, he’s in awe of the sight of himself inside of her.

Thick fingers stuff his seed back inside of her after he’s done, and he prays for the first time in years that it worked.

#thomas hewitt x reader #leatherface x reader #slasher x reader #kinktober 2023 #holy shit this one got away from me

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threepandas · 6 months ago

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Bad End: Royal Red

Have you ever seen blood BURN like the sun?

I'm not even sure "burn" is the right word for it. Writhe? Scream? HATE? Like a standing on a cliff, staring down at a valley consumed in flames. Old forests full of life... burning. Dying. Wrong.

The sky choked with thick black smoke. Tar-like and staining. The ROAR of it. Moisture ripped so utterly from the air, it hurts to breathe. Heat so absolute as it rises... you can not imagine there was ever, EVER life here.

But there was.

And it was once beautiful.

Ancient and green, bird song and morning mist. Moss beneath bare feet and the gentle quiet that is no quiet at all. A thing ALIVE. Breathing. Whole. Now gone beneath the flame. The carnage and hunger. As animals flee for their lives and your men die, desperate to hold back the all consuming spread.

Nothing but FIRE remains.

But have you seen BLOOD burn? The weeping wounds of a soul? The... WRONGNESS inside a man, catch light? A shade of ever overlapping crimson. Drying blood somehow just as fluid as the fresh. Old wounds and new. Somewhere, the depth of scars...

BURNING.

I have.

I do.

I wish I did not.

There is something... WRONG with his Highness. Now, the Crown Prince. He... He HAD brothers. Some were awful, others indifferent. But all of them? All of them are gone. Terrible accidents, allegedly. One after another. And they were NOT the only one's. Consorts, lovers, mistresses and supporters. Allies and anyone unfortunate enough to be in his Highness' way.

But of course, I can prove nothing. And to SUGGEST such a thing? That would be Treason. Defamation of a Royal. That it is TRUE? Holds no bearing. Is utterly irrelevant. Even if I HAD had the proper training, even I'd my Gifts WERE formally recognized, ultimately? Politics is King.

It's not supposed to be. But when has life ever been so kind? When has "supposed to" EVER won the day? No. Such talk gets men killed. And dying once? Was quite enough for me.

Though I HAD to wonder...

How does a Protagonist fuck up SO BADLY, that they somehow send their Hidden Route target, into an empire conquering, murder spiral? That's not "a few bad choices" levels of making a mistake. THAT'S? Damn near deliberate sabotage and I just wanna talk. Violently.

I WOULD too, if I wasn't pretty certain they were either on the run or in exile.

All I had wanted? ALL I HAD EVER WANTED?? Was to just be set dressing. Soldier A, the unimportant background gaurd. A nice, faceless, grunt. Maybe chat with my equals of plot significance, a potted plant and yonder chair. Then? I could take my pay, go home, and live quietly.

But NO!

I get stationed following the Seventh prince. Mr. Hidden Route himself. Which? Okay, fine. Was HOPING for gate duty, cause NOTHING happens on gate duty, but FINE. But THEN? Half my co-workers are ASSHOLES. Like... child abusing assholes! The FUCK?!

So? Oops. Accident on the stairs! Whoops! Lemme help you there, man. Oh? Did I ACCIDENTALLY crush the hand you used to hit that kid? Golly! Gee, I sure hope the healers can fix that for you! (I fucking know they both can't and wouldn't if they could. You can't afford SHIT.) Lemme HELP you there, AGAIN, BUUUUUDDY~☆!

Threatening you? Why I would NEVER! That's illegal!

You know... like hitting kids.

And OTHER shit they try to pull. Never DID get around to updating my Gaurd Forms. Whoops. Turns out being able to literally SEE the malicious intent on a fucker? Makes it pretty easy to know who to watch. DID get jumped a lot though. Stabbed a few times.

I just? Wanted to watch my favorite Otome game play out, you know? Get payed while doing it. Sunk cost fallacy kicked in. I've been here since I was a PRE-TEEN. Signed up for training, a ten year contract, and everything! I can LEAVE now... but like? Go WHERE? And honestly... I'm not actually sure I CAN.

Things are... Tense.

Or maybe they're just tense for me? 'Cause... Cause something isn't right. It's that burning blood color. The way it fills a room. Reaches, covetous, like staining hands. Writhes and drags itself against everything. Something unholy, between a lustful grind and the dragging of the wounded. It's not even demonic. No... somehow? It's WORSE for being utterly human.

There is something deeply wrong with the man I am sworn to obey, and I do not know how to escape him.

Because I definitely SHOULD.

I'm not stupid. He's been... been keeping me, SPECIFICALLY, close at hand, since becoming Crown Prince. The SECOND he was able to assign his OWN gaurds? I am suddenly honor gaurd. Yet not. I have basically no job but to stab just behind and to the side of him and look pretty. (For the given quality of THAT.) And...? Even the other gaurds are looking nervous.

It's NEVER a good thing when powerful people suddenly pay attention to an individual gaurd, servant, or maid. They tend to end up... hurt. Dead. Worse. And given recent behavior? Well... I've been getting offers to quietly arrange an "accident" for me.

Not so sure it won't get everyone involved killed.

He wasn't always LIKE this. Yeah, he was... different, but it wasn't BAD. Just... off. A bit weird. A color I hadn't seen before and couldn't for the life of me figure out. It had been... well, nothing. Not even grey. I KNOW grey, it's apathy or depression. Emotional flatness.

But his Highness? Like mist. The lite distortion of water droplets. Colorless and near weightless, drifting gently along. It was as though he DIDNT have emotional responses to anything. Not even flat. Just... non-existant. Which? If so? That's okay! Really. Takes all types. Something to NOTE, yeah, maybe accommodate? But fine.

It's not like there were psychiatric meds or doctors we could get for him. If he was different, so be it. We just had to work around that. Plan accordingly. Worst case scenario, maybe keep him away from small breakable things. But? He seemed benign. I shrugged and moved on. Accepted him as he was.

Maybe went out of my way to explain things with logic more then feelings. Even when I WAS explaining feelings. Ethics. Pretty much anything else he asked. Which... wait a second...

Fuck.

A nameless gaurd SHOULD NOT know that much about psychology or politics. Economics on the macro or micro scale. Oh god DAMN it Wikipedia! You betray me a lifetime away?! Et Tu random research binges!?

Okay. Okay! So maaaaybe? THATS why he's keeping me close? Cause yeah, I'm pretty stacked these days. No internet kinda leaves nothing BUT time to train and read... and books are kinda hard to get, at my level. So like? Maybe a second set of eyes?

....doesn't feel right though. Close but missing the obvious mark-ish.

I try to think of my interactions with the prince. BEFORE murder-spiral kick-off. He sought me out a lot. I interfered so many times when his Tutors crossed lines, they got me kicked out of the main building. He started skipping lessons to self-study. I got put on patrol? He learned my patrol schedule. Would invade the gaurd mess.

Got punished for that, I think. Vicious cycle. I get punished, he gets upset, wants to make sure I'm okay, I get punished for his basic empathy and being a kid. They kept reassigning me. I got stabbed that first time. Sent too...

Wait.

I try to pull up what I know of the Game in my brain. The Hidden Route and the other Routes. We are.... WAY off script. Not off GENRE... just...?

Mentally I set the Game aside. Shifting in my guarding position at the Crown Prince's side. He continues to work. The soft rustle of papers and the scratching of his pen, filling the silence along side the clink and shift of my armor. We are in the sun room, surrounded by flowers, supposedly for the better light.

To be honest, I hadn't ever BEEN in this room until I was basicly expected to tail the Crown Prince like a glorified, armor wearing, pet. And too be honest? Given that the REST of his honor gaurd were ACTUAL KNIGHTS? It was well beyond ridiculous at this point.

I was a club bouncer surrounded by elite special forces, in fancy little armor, that I could in NO way, have ever afforded on my own. Oh, and I wasn't really allowed to talk to them. So... WHY? Why, EXACTLY, was I here? There was no realistic way anything could get PASSED all those knights. I certainly wasn't PROTECTING the Crown Prince from SHIT.

And... and he hadn't attacked me, thank God. No touchy hands "service to the crown" shtick. Demanding things I couldn't refuse him. So THAT wasn't it...

Right?

My brain insisted it wasn't. That I should keep going over the list of possible reasons. Consider This or That. But... Something in my gut? Rang like a struck bell. Some non-physical part of me. That peice that twined, like gentle golden ivy, up through my body, too wrap around my eyes from the inside. Not enough, maybe, to get me into some high and mighty school or apprenticeship... but ENOUGH.

Because Magic was, is, and always has been? Divine. For all that HUMANS fail while using it. For every MORTAL error in it's implementing or understanding. It's a drop of the Divine. And? You can not LIE to the Gods. Hide, perhaps, but not LIE. Even then, you'd have to know what you're hiding FROM.

Kinda hard to hide from "using past life knowledge to deduce motivation" when that's not exactly a thing people can easily guess I HAVE. I get away with shit. Know things I really shouldn't.

Am.... am desperately trying to convince myself that the twinge I just felt? DOESN'T mean what I think it means. Even as a cold sweat breaks out over my skin. As I desperately keep my expression placid and my stare straight into the middle distance. Ha ha.... oh god. No no no, oh god, no...!

Okay. OKAY! Lying to yourself will NOT keep you safe! We can do this! Nothing is happening. We just... just have to play it cool. NOT. PANIC.

He DID want us for sexual reasons.

But... more? More, maybe. I poke at the feeling. Try to frame my thoughts as absolute statement as see if I get a twinge again. To get a feel for the edges of whatever is happening. I can not protect myself, if I do not KNOW from what I protect AGAINST. Just sex? No. Was I a convenience choice? Also No. Revenge for something? A sudden certainty that I'd be DEAD if it was.

Oh, THATS not concerning at ALL!

Okay, keep prodding. Uuuuh... He has a thing for big muscle-y dudes with scars? Strong yes. Okay! Getting somewhere! Kinda thought he liked the petite, girly girl-ish typ-? Weirdly hollow No? Strong. Okay, what the FUCK. See THIS? THIS is why I wanted to be a fucking GAURD. No weird Protagonist of any adventures bullshit! Just a 9-5 with a paycheck at the end!

Uuuugh. Okay, soooo... likes? Strong dudes.... and I was the closest? No. Okay! Getting somewhere! Other strong dude... isn't available? Yes, but I am looking at it wrong. Great. At least I know what that feeling MEANS. Still wish it would just follow up with a "and btw, here's the answer~☆" but, fuck no! Why would life make anything EASY for a guy?

Fuck it! Random shit at the wall time. He's definitely in love with the Protagonist? No. Wait, really? Then why...? No. Stay on track. He's in definitely in love with ME? I wait, utterly expectant, for the twinge that will mark a negative. Half cursing myself for not checking with the Divine sooner. There had been no excuse. Distractions, yes, but no excuse.

It feels like getting sucker punched in the gut. HARD.

Takes everything in me, not to wheeze and double over. That... that wasn't a "yes". That was so FAR beyond "yes" I'm not sure there are spoken, written, or even conceptual WORDS for it. As absolute a CONCEPT of Yes as I have ever felt or probably ever will.

It... It did NOT feel good.

That was a WARNING.

Like the Gods them selves had taken me by the back of the neck, stepped close, to whisper in my ear as they drove their fist into my gut. "Pay Attention To This. RUN. You Need To RUN. There Are Monsters Here."

My eyes feel like they are burning. Like I haven't blinked in too long. Colors a bit too bright, details too sharp. The edges of reality cutting like splintering, glittering, glass. Everything has a GLOW to it. It's never done that before. Is... is this panic? Fight or Flight forcing me to draw deeper then I ever have before?

Or are the Gods paying attention? Displeased by what they see?

The room around us is... is so quiet. Beautiful. Rare flowers, teeming with life. Decorative and pampered little song birds, flitting from roost to roost. The rich scent of rare tea and expensive cologne, mixing with armor polish and the scent of green, living things. Sunlight makes his Highness' hair glow like it was made of it. Pale gold and filled with light.

If I could not SEE... his Highness would be beautiful.

But I can, and instead? He's terrifying.

I think I'm shaking. I don't understand. The room around me picturesque. Peaceful. Golden and filled with gently beautiful things. Light. It feels mocking. Paper thin. Like some cruel trap laid out over a pit of tar. As though, like in the cartoons of my old childhood, the INSTANT I become aware... acknowledge the reality of my ACTUAL surroundings?

The paper thin veneer will rip, no longer able to hold my weight, and I will be plunged into the horrors just beneath the lie.

How.... HOW did-?! I... I CAN'T-!

I put everything I am, into letting nothing show. E-Everything is FINE. Do not turn around. Please. Please, Gods, do not notice me or turn around! I breathe. Breathe. Can't do nothing now, but breathe. Panic is the mind killer. I remind myself of that. People do stupid things, when they act in panic. Think. THINK! Plan. THEN act! Breathe.

How? HOW did this happen? Trace it back. Find the source and we can... can maybe unhook the noose. Fix this? Escape? Run and keep running. Find the edge of the map and keep going. Where did it...? My brain, maybe my magic, finally takes pity. Connects the wires that have long been JUST missing each other. My mental list of Genre Troupes. My history with the Prince.

The blood drains from my face.

Oh fuck. Shit! Oh fuck, oh SHIT. Yandere. He was a YANDERE hidden route character! Wasn't he!? It's the only thing that makes sense with the-! No, no, he should still-! But, wait. No. No, no, NO. Oh god! I pulled a combo attack. "Childhood best friend" even though we WEREN'T. I was basically the closest in age to him! AND the only non-asshole! So that's "Different From The Others"!

Oh mother FUCKER, I pulled a "Only One Who Cares About Me" while SERVING him! His fucked up little squirrel brain would have taken that as "belonged to him" only to have me "taken away" when I was assigned elsewhere! Every time I kept someone from ABUSING him, I was making it WORSE. Every time they reassigned me, somebody was "trying to take me away"!

Oh sweet merciful FUCK, I got STABBED!

No WONDER he lost his absolute shit! He was unhinged to begin with! But instead of latching on to Protagonist and being HER problem, he latched on to ME! Why did no one warn me he was-!? Actually, I have no idea. Non-Just-Straight?! That! One of the THAT! Like FUCK I'm asking! He'd think it was an invitation, probably!

Because he NUCKING FUTS! Squirrels in the brain! Def Con OH SHIT!!

Yandere! Shit! I'm gonna di-!

"Something's upset you." The crown prince's surprisingly deep voice says, breaking the silence. I flinch. "I can feel your magic moving. An attack, perhaps? Or is someone saying something they should not."

He... oh, great, amazing! He can FEEL my magic. The magic INSIDE me body. That magic. Yeah, I don't feel stripped naked and on display AT ALL. Thanks! Definitely not invasive, your Highness! Still, I have to answer. Carefully. Very, VERY carefully.

He hums, disbelieving, as I reply. Lifting his pen and setting it aside. A graceful hand lifts. The mere flick of his fingers. "Move" it means. "Come where I can see you". Imperious and royal. Casual in it's assumed control of me. Why would he believe anything else, after all? He IS a prince. The CROWN Prince. Future KING.

He DOES own me.

I keep my breathing even. Keep my hands from visually shaking by tightening my grip on my spear. Even, professional, steps. Forward. Turn. Face your ruler. Your BETTER. No eye contact. Even breathing and eyes to the horizon. You are a statue. Just... just be a statue. No thoughts. You can do this.

It doesnt help. I can FEEL those pale, pale eyes. Striking and blue. Rare flower petals or glacier ice, they have been called. Compared to all sorts of haunting things. The Crown Prince is a beautiful man. That dangerous sort of pale beauty, that make for excellent portraits, of bright and holy things. That fools the eyes into thinking surely, SURELY the soul before your is Good. Trustworthy.

How could anything so beautiful be DANGEROUS?

Be corrupted and insane? A killer. A madman.

A MONSTER.

I stand at attention. Where he can observe me. His little toy soilder. Kept like a PET, I know realize, and try not to feel like I am being picked apart. Like a mouse in some tigers cage. The far wall sure is fascinating. Mmmmhmm. Very... very wall-like. Glass and artfully arranged flowering vines. Very pretty. What a wall! Ten stars for wall-ness.

The near silent shift of fine fabrics. A tap. Nail on high grade armor alloy. Just the smallest of sounds that nonetheless seems deafening. I barely stop myself from jerking back in alarm. Can't prevent my gaze from snapping downwards. To the arm outstretched, the elegant hand curled, the well manicured finger nail on the single outstretched finger... that has placed itself right over my heart. I freeze, utterly.

"You're getting nervous, aren't you? Growing uncertain. I've been so busy planning ahead, I've forgotten the here and now, haven't I?" He muses. That finger I should not be able to feel, that somehow feels like a knife trailed along my skin, glides slowly down. A meandering path down towards my belt. "I've neglected you."

The finger hooks into my belt. I am dragged forward a few stumbling steps with a deceptively strong tug. There is significant muscle, hidden by the almost waifish cut of his Highness daily wear. The eyes watching for my reaction are predatory. Intent. It was as though there should be fangs, in that pleasant, politician's grin...

"My steadfast knight, warrior of my heart, you've been so patient for me... so LOYAL." He rolled the word across his tongue as he said it, eyes locked on me with the sort of interest hunter keep, more a sigh then a word. Somehow.. Somehow the concept became OBSCENE, once in his hands. "So good for me. Even after all this time. Soon, Dearest. Soon we won't have to hide. I promise."

I had NEVER been a knight. Not even CLOSE to qualified for the training. Not even a single branch, magical or otherwise. Worse? I knew for a FACT? We had never, not ONCE, been lovers. No stolen glances. No fumbling youthful hands. No "hey, let's explore this closet!". Nothing. I? Had been studiously professional, if a decent human being.

This was ALL him.

What narrative had he painted in his head?

My heart pounds. My brain somehow both gibbering hysteria and unnatural calm. I... I think I may be disassociating. But all I can think, all I KNOW, is that I can NOT, Under ANY Circumstances, break the illusion. Do NOT argue. Why YES, deeply insane FUTURE KING, I DO love you so VERY much! Hey, don't mind me, just left the phone running. Gonna go for a walk. Buy some milk.

I watch, pleasant service industry smile feeling plastic on my face, as he leans forward. Rests his head against my armored chest, as though we were lovers. Just stealing a quite little moment alone. His hand slides along my belt, fingers hooked into it, the brush of his knuckles feeling far filthier then any groping hand. I can HEAR him breathing me in.

Obscene. How is he making such chaste contact so deeply obscene? He let's out a pleased hum and I want a shower.

"Kneel for me?" So soft I almost don't catch it, it takes a moment to register the words. This time, I can not stop myself from tensing. I know he feels it, but can not bring myself to care. "Shhhh shh shh, none of this, my Darling. To your knees before your King. Sweetheart, my dearest. You're going to be serving me there for the rest of our lives. It's okay. Your King won't rush you. He knows how shy you are. How nervous."

W-Well THAT wasn't treason! At ALL! Ha ha...! Oh god.

Hands at my waist. When did the other one-?! I'm shaking. Smile. D-dont set him off. This is fine. I... I shouldn't be ABLE to feel their heat, through my armor. Somehow I do. I want to back up. If I got to do this? At least let me-!

But, no. Pressure. Hands on my hips dragging me down, watching eyes expectant. In stops and starts... like a seizing automaton, my knees bend. Down I go... I guess.

Almost instantly, there are hands unbuckling my helmet. Sliding it off. Stealing it away. Fingers slide through my hair. Cup my cheek. A thumb running itself across my mouth. The prince seemed to loom. Hungry as he stared down at me.

"Beautiful. My loyal knight is so, SO beautiful. I am going to give us the world. Take what is ours. No one will EVER hurt us again, Dearest. I will keep you forever. Dress you in armor and roses. Mine and mine alone."

There was madness in his eyes. Obsession. Is...is that what that color meant? That burning, terrible blood? It's too late. Oh god, it's too late for that to help me. I smile. Do not argue. Fear and fear and fear. I have to get out. On my knees, it is a terrible view of what's to come, should I fail. The Games's utterly fucked. I no longer care.

I have to get out.

The King, after all, has gotten sick lately.

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lalunanymph · 1 year ago

Text

lose lose game (m) — ginoza n.

ginoza finds himself caught between hell and a hard place when he’s forced to bring in a latent criminal who happens to be the only person he has ever loved in his life

warnings: unprotected sex, soft!ginoza, slight yan!gino, reader is coded to be feminine, college crushes, mild angst, gino is traumatized lmao, ooc!gino, restraints, gags, mentions of cheating, kinda dubcon if you squint, weapons, canon typical violence, enforcer!gino x fem!reader, unedited, unbeta-ed oops

dawn says: debuting my first ever pp fic hiii look im gonna be honest, i only watched 3 eps and half of the movie but i would let this man do unspeakably unholy things to me

Ginoza is a hard head.

As much as his superiors and colleagues would vouch for the opposite, you’ve known him since you were a girl and he was a boy.

He hated losing, and more than that, he hated being proved that he was wrong.

So, when the stats reflect past his murky dark eyes and encroaches the territory of his disbelieving thoughts, he has to fight back the urge to hurl.

120 Crime Coefficient.

The coffee he ingested this morning as his only meal churns heavily in his stomach.

The smiling face and rosy lips dug through his thoughts, rendering them a repeat of no, no, not her, not her. Fear clawed through his chest and he was once again 8 years old, fearing the stomping of boots; the cracking thuds of bodies against the drywall.

Watching mutely in horror—in helplessness—as his father was dragged away by men in suits, his entire bloodline branded as an impending danger to society.

Akane’s voice is soft, cutting through the fog of his whirlwind thoughts. “You know what happens next, right?”

Ginoza’s nostrils flare. Another thing he absolutely detested was someone telling him what to do when he already had half a mind set on it.

For the first time since becoming her subordinate, Ginoza flashes Akane a veiled look of distrust. She misinterpreted it as his reluctant acceptance.

“Good. Bring her back, Gino-chan, then we can talk about your reinstatement as an Inspector.”

Dangling his old post right in front of him like a bone to the dogs he once swore to hate, nothing could prepare Ginoza for the flash of pure hatred coursing through him like a lightning strike.

But, he muffles the resentment; sends Akane a curt nod.

“I’ll be back,” is what he promised.

With her out of the system, is what he didn’t say out loud.

Shuttering light flitted across your face, the train tracks above passing in mechanical whirs, waking you from a fitful sleep.

The dregs of fatigue still clung to your eyelashes, rendering you in a drowsy stupor that you didn’t notice a shadow moving across your boxed-in room. It was the cheapest unit you could find on your runaway budget; after a street scanner had spotted you, word soon escalated to your job management and you had discovered your things packaged in boxes right outside your office door—effectively rendering you jobless and homeless in one go.

There was nothing you could do but run for the streets, hiding in the shadows until someone killed you or you were arrested.

Sitting up, you stifled a yawn.

Someone cleared his throat.

Eyes shooting wide open, you quickly leapt from the bed, hitting the lights to illuminate the barrel of a Dominator staring right at your face.

The man behind it was quiet as a whisper, his hard eyes trailed right on your shell-shocked expression.

“Don’t resist.”

You swallowed hard, imploring him with a wide gaze. “Please… I did nothing.”

He stepped closer into the light, and your chest squeezed in recognition. “Nobuchika?”

Ginoza looked like he had bit down on a handful of nails; mouth twisted into a grimace, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

After years of having not seen each other since college, Ginoza looked different.

Taller. Lethal. The corners of his lips were downturned—tired.

You felt more than noticed the heavy blanket of exhaustion eclipsing his broad shoulders. Something stirred deep in you—a kindred spirit reaching out towards his own.

“Don’t make this anymore difficult for me.”

Gulping, you balled your fists. “So, you’re gonna arrest me? Let them torture me?”

Those green eyes with heavy bags underneath them darkened under your weak, fluorescent light. “No. But, if you put up resistance, I’d be forced to do something I don’t want to, as well.”

A shaky exhale of a breath. And then, you turned on your heel to run.

Ginoza caught you in a flash, his strong arms vining around your smaller frame.

“Let me go!” you screamed, kicking his shin, clawing at his arms. Everything in the universe was transpiring against your escape when he clamped a hand around your mouth.

Going up against an apex predator was foolishness to the highest heavens, especially when said hunter already had restraints prepared.

Your arms were bound behind your back, a lead gag slotted in between your teeth. Ginoza was efficient in subduing you without the need for his Dominator; a feat of pure shame considering how you couldn’t even put up a good fight.

He hauled you towards a kitchen chair, unceremoniously dumping you onto the hard bench. Fastening another knot to the wooden arms, he had you captured and restrained; your watery eyes lifted towards him to beseech for mercy.

The boy you knew before—the one who brought teachers homemade cards on their birthdays—was a far cry from the cutthroat man staining your periphery.

As if he could read your mind, Ginoza got down onto one knee, right in front of you. His expression was unreadable, Dominator whirring on the ground beside him.

You eyed the weapon with unconcealed fear, and a beat of terror flitted in between both of your tense figures.

Green eyes the colour of murky, contaminated pools fixed onto the tears escaping down your cheeks. He thumbed them away, careful to not touch your parted lips.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. You stared at him in abject horror—at this man who was condemning you to a life of isolation. “But, I have to bring you in. Personal… feelings… aside.”

Feelings?

You struggled to fix your watery eyes onto him. In the background, your Psycho Pass beeped, reminding the both of you of the stats which was damning evidence of your deteriorating psyche.

“What happened?”

Nobuchika spoke softly, as if someone could overhear. He was probably right to be this hesitant; Sibyl’s eyes and ears were never far from latent evil, as the saying once went.

You clamped your gaze down to your knees, the gape in your chest throbbing. More hot tears squeezed past your closed eyes and you gasped, heaving and crying in front of a friend you hadn’t seen for years.

Memories of late nights kombini runs, leaking ink stains on paper and hot ramen noodles filtered in your mind. There was once a life where you had all the potential to be great; to grow and change society. Unjaded and unfettered, you had hoped for your country’s best, only to see it all crashing down in one fell swoop.

Gently, he tugged the gag out of your mouth, letting the spit-slicked bit roll down your chin.

“Hey. I’m speaking to you.”

Eyes flashing, you regarded him with frosty distaste.

“You’re not supposed to speak to someone who's latent,” you seethed. “Or, have you forgotten your code, Enforcer.”

The badge on his chest burned.

By now, an Inspector should be in his ear, telling him to unanimously pull the trigger and paralyse you. But, Ginoza swatted those thoughts away, focused on extracting the reason why your Hue was murky and your Psycho Pass stats were affected.

“I can help you.”

Akane would tear him a new one. His position would get even more muddier; a dog who could not kill off his prey. They would tighten his leash, get eyes on him everywhere he went. He wouldn’t even be allowed to leave his apartment if they could help it.

Fate or stupidity kept him frozen in one spot, those sharp eyes drinking in your waning resolve.

You sniffed, hanging your head forward. Finally letting your dense truth roll off your stubborn tongue.

“My ex-boyfriend cheated on me and syphoned all of my money away and I… I want to kill that motherfucker.”

Your sobs filled the room. Ginoza discreetly clicked off his audio, turning his body cam’s eye to the ground.

Something bloomed in his chest, whether from familiarity or pity, he could not pick it apart. Ever since he saw your name in the system, he was a haunted man, trying and failing to fight this war between duty and memory—the same conflict he carried for 20 over years pouring like rancid waves to liquify his strong sense of righteousness.

Good and bad—they wavered in the face of his longtime college crush.

Ginoza always thought he would spend his entire life alone when you left the prefecture and he never got to tell you his real feelings. He was loyal like that; a pandering dog waiting for the one true owner of his heart to come back.

And here you were, a mirage shimmering right in front of him. Playing right into his hands.

Those scarred knuckles caressed your cheek, catching you off guard with his tender afflictions.

The dark locks framing his face from his loosening man bun tickled your chin when he leaned forward. Soft as down, his lips met yours, swallowing your sudden gasp of surprise.

Ginoza drank you in; a man hungry for a taste of life after being denied his human tendencies for years on end. Funny how his dedication to the Bureau could come undone because of one single woman—because of you.

Forgetting and re-remembering the aching beat of his heart; Ginoza was gentle when he cupped your face in those large palms of his, careful to lick across the seam of your lips—tasting all of you in.

Your soft moans caressed the upper palate of his hot mouth, and he knows the same feelings he harboured towards you were reciprocated.

They ignited his desires, fueled his dangerous thoughts and occupations on what he needed to do next.

There was no way he was going to let this rush of exhilaration let him go. Since the beginning of his consciousness, his thoughts were moulded by the system, forged by the system and executed by the people who upheld the very system which had forced him to go numb.

You were the one thing to bring colour back to his dull senses—it all started to make sense why he had held out this long; played by the system’s rules if it meant he could get you in the end.

“Nobuchika,” you whispered once he broke off the kiss, the sweetest exhilaration rushing through him from the sound of his name coming from you.

“I’ll protect you,” unprompted, his promise was thorough and sure. “Anything that happens to you… I won’t let them touch you.”

The tinge of possessiveness marked its way as tears of gratitude down your face. You nodded and peeled your brilliant gaze onto him.

Spurred on by the pure trust you had in him, Ginoza removed your binds, helping you stand up. You crashed into his arms, and he held you there, cheek squished right to your hair.

“I never thought you had feelings for me,” he murmured. “Seems like a dream.”

Your watery chuckle rebounded back into his ringing ears. “You were always so distant.” As you spoke, you tugged on the lapels of his suit, smoothing your hands all over his broad pecs. “You kinda scared me, if I’m being honest.”

In reciprocation, he shrugged the jacket off, eyeing you hungrily down the line of his defined nose.

“I did?”

You hum. Reaching for the buttons of his crisp, white shirt, you slowly tugged it off. “But, I always thought you were brilliant, Gino—”

“Nobuchika,” he almost panted when he felt your touch sear onto his scarred chest. “Call me by my name.”

You gazed up at him past your lashes, nodding. “Nobuchika. I love your name.”

Without a word of complaint, he let you crowd him onto your bed, the old springs squeaking in resistance towards the fall of his larger body. Straddling his lap, your burning eyes set his mind ablaze—he suddenly felt too dizzy, like all the air in the room had been sucked up.

Ginoza skimmed his prosthetic hand down your thigh, feeling the taut sinew and muscles which dimpled underneath his mechanical fingers.

Soft. You were so, so soft for him.

He perched up on his elbows, mouth frantically finding yours. You let him bruise kisses onto your parted lips, down your jaw and across your collarbone and neck.

Ginoza slotted his hands onto your hips, holding you like a man making sure his treasure was secure.

He let you tug off his pants, shrug off your clothes to leave you glowing and fully naked in the half-light.

Low and static-like, in the background, he thought he heard someone calling his name over the comm.

Common sense and the call of his superiors were drowned out the second you sank down on his dripping cock. Ginoza’s spine unfurled like a precious book, his moan sweetened with the taste of surrender. You paced yourself with hands locked around his shoulders, muffling your moans into his neck.

The sullied Enforcer lets you rut yourself on his cock, using him to get yourself off as he patiently plastered sloppy kisses down your throat and jaw.

Your eyes rolled back in the dim light, whites exposing for a glimmering second to set off the wild, unprecedented racing of his heart.

Ginoza supposed he has never felt such pride before in his life when he feels your pussy shuddering around his cock; an honest love letter to his unwavering passion at fucking into you until a rush of slick stains his thighs.

You had come, gasping out his name and stabbing your nails right into his skin.

He feels the fever pitch breaking, tightens his core and gives one last snap of his hips upward.

Not caring that he had fucked you raw or that you were technically an enemy under his lawful consideration, Ginoza allowed himself to pour every drop of his desire right into your willing body.

Your syrupy mewls lusciously caressed his hot ears, and the world goes black for one second as he tries to catch his breath. Weaving in and out of consciousness, Ginoza felt you standing, and his instinct told him you were just going to the bathroom to clean up.

Sleep weighed him down, insistent and caring—nurturing him in her motherly arms.

Ginoza slept like he had never done before since the day he became an Enforcer; cradled in threadbare blankets and the memory of your body pressed up to his.

Till this moment, he swore he had felt you worm your way back into his arms, and even the brief, ghosting of your lips on his forehead.

But, when he opened his eyes, he noticed that the room was empty.

A chirping, mechanical voice told him it was currently three in the morning; a full two hours since he had first arrived at your decrepit home.

Your clothes were missing, bag gone.

Ginoza jumped to his feet, scrambling to put his clothes back on; cursing right under his breath.

His enforcement comm buzzed, and he felt Akane’s frustration before he answered the call. If Kogami were here, he would’ve laughed at his lapse of judgement—how easily good pussy could knock him out.

“She’s gone,” Akane said, flat and emotionless. “I expect a full report on how you had let her go, Ginoza.”

Before he could open his mouth and apologise—defend himself from her rightful flurry of disapproval, his Dominator whirled up.

And Ginoza couldn’t believe his ears. The mechanical clicks almost didn’t set in for him—left him mute and rooted to the spot from the magnitude of what he had just done.

How drastically he had fucked up and your cleverly veiled deceit which stunned him right to the core.

Target’s CoEfficient level has changed. Target: L/N Y/N, affiliated with Shambala Float rebels. Enforcement mode: Lethal Eliminator. Please aim carefully and eliminate the target.

pussy so good it knocked him out like nyquil sjsjsjjs

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

#ginoza x reader #ginoza nobuchika x reader #ginoza smut #psycho pass smut #psycho pass #ginoza nobuchika #psycho pass bbies hit me up #i need more pp moots 😭#if this is ooc msorry i was too honknee to study the source material #tw yandere #🦢 writes

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bless-my-demons · 2 years ago

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Redamancy: Chapter Thirteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: None except for a cuss word and some tooth-rotting fluff

Notes: Oops, I lied - New Moon timeline has been pushed to the right a bit, I got carried away with this chapter lol this one got me cheesin’ hard. I can’t even wait to post this until my regular time, so enjoy!! (Hopefully I didn’t fuck up the tags - thank you to everyone that’s used the google form!)

Word Count: 2701

Series Masterlist

• March 21st, 2005 • Cullen’s Residence •

Reader

The soothing motion of Carlisle’s car came to a gentle stop that didn’t completely wake me up. But the cold arms reaching under me to lift me from the vehicle certainly did. As he began to lift me, Jasper made sure to secure the hem of my dress for my modesty causing me to smile sleepily at his thoughtfulness.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” He asks quietly, speaking softly into my hairline.

“You.” I blush immediately at my whispered confession, keeping my eyes closed and face buried in his shoulder.

“Mmm, I think I like sleepy Y/n.” He says with a chuckle that rumbles through me.

I finally look up at our surroundings, noticing we’re at his house instead of mine.

“Why-”

“Your mom isn’t expecting us until tomorrow afternoon, normal people don’t make a twenty-four hour drive without sleeping.” Somehow he manages to open the front door without setting me down. “So, you’re going to get some rest while I go for a hunt.”

I blink up at him slowly as he continues his path through his house. I get another day with him? Well, however much is left once his hunger is satiated.

“My siblings are at school, Esme is redecorating with one of her clients, and Carlisle is at the hospital so the house is yours for most of the day.” Jasper explains, walking down the hallway and finally into his room before returning me gently back to solid ground.

His massive king bed is as immaculately made as the first time I saw it and just as inviting. The longer I admire the fluffy black duvet and mountain of pillows, the more aware I am of all the little aches and pains sleeping in the car caused. Not to mention the lingering tenderness of my healing ribs and the other broken parts of me.

Jasper turns me to face his black gaze, “Climb in and get some sleep, Esme stocked the kitchen for you and I’ll be back before you know it.” It comes out almost robotic, but I see that he’s trying - his hunger covers every inch of his face and keeps his body rigid.

“Take your time, I won’t leave without you.” I reassure him with a half smile, especially since I never made that exact promise in the hotel.

He leans in to plant a kiss to my temple before he’s gone with a small breeze and a lingering coolness on my skin as the only signs he was just there. Sighing, I slide the thick drapes closed to stop the morning sun from shining through the beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows.

I stop in the doorway to his closet before reaching the bed, contemplating snooping for something more comfortable to sleep in. Would stealing a shirt be too much? We aren’t even dating, but I do have permission to sleep in his bed… the dresser on the far wall tempts me forward. What’s one shirt to a vampire?

Sliding open the middle drawer in search of anything comfier than a dress, a small note card is waiting on top of his neatly folded shirts:

He doesn’t mind one bit.

- A

Christ, this woman thinks of everything. Grinning, I step out of my sundress and pick up a black short sleeve that’s a couple sizes too big. It hits the tops of my thighs, but since I’m home alone - I don’t think twice before climbing into his bed and situating myself for a much needed rest.

Inhaling the scent that’s so distinctly Jasper Hale, sleep finds me easily for the first time in a very long time.

Jasper

She’s in my shirt. In my bed. In my room. My sheets twisted around her legs. My pillows cradling her body. My scent mingling with hers and settling into the walls, the carpet, the bookshelves, the bed, my lungs.

I close my eyes and slowly retreat out of my room, shutting the door almost completely silent and resting my head on the wood.

“You good?” Emmett’s question almost startles me right out of my skin.

I sigh, “That hunt was almost for fucking nothing.” I turn my darkening eyes toward my brother to see surprise sweeping his face.

“You just got back!” He whisper yells with a wide-eyed look, knowing Y/n is asleep.

“She’s-” a low growl gets the better of me and I immediately tamp it down, closing my eyes in concentration.

A chuckle poorly contained slips from my brother and my eyes burst open to give him a deadly glare.

“You got it bad, brother.” He claps my shoulder with one of his massive hands and steers me down the hallway, putting distance between me and my greatest temptation. “You’ve got it so bad.”

Reader

I wake with a yawn and a stretch, relishing in the softness of Jasper’s sheets.

My eyes snap open. Jasper’s sheets.

I’m in Jasper Hale’s bed, wearing his shirt and my underwear and nothing else.

Shooting up into a sitting position, I glance around wildly trying to determine what time it was, but my eyes stop in the corner of his room. Jasper, sitting in a chair reading a book by a dim lamp.

“It’s almost seven, you slept most of the day. How was your nap, darlin’?” Setting his book down on his lap, he meets my gaze with a sly grin before sliding his eyes down my legs. “I see you made yourself comfortable.”

I gasp, “I-I uh-” fumbling for an explanation as to why I’m half-naked in his bed and absolutely failing.

“Sweetheart, it’s alright. A very nice view to come home to, so I guess you could say it’s more than alright.” He stalks forward slowly, light brown eyes holding me in a trance.

I blush deeply at his words and pull the blankets up to my chest, wishing these sheets could swallow me up.

Just then, a knock at the door and Alice pokes her head inside, “Oh good - you’re up! Get decent, everyone is getting together in the living room for movie night!” She finishes with a wink and is gone as fast as she arrived.

Jasper disappears into his closet and re-emerges with a pair of black sweats, setting them in my lap and leaning forward to whisper in my ear, “Can’t have a lady walking around in just my shirt, huh darlin’?”

Watching him duck out of the room so that I can slip on the bottoms, I contemplate making a run for it to put an end to all this teasing. The blush on my cheeks might as well be permanent.

Jasper

Movie night, really? I direct the thought at Edward and watch him throw a bored, pointed look at our scheming sister before leaving.

Alice replies with a grin, tossing me a blanket presumably for Y/n, “Oh hush, I’m just doing my sisterly duty of moving things along.” She floats past us, preparing the rom-com she selected.

“Don’t even look at me.” Rose waves a hand in dismissal as I raise my eyebrows at her, “I want nothing to do with your human.”

“C’mon, babe-” Emmett whines, but stops at the murderous look in his mate’s eyes. He continues anyways with a semi-serious whisper, “It’s the first time in like, forever since he’s even come close to getting any-”

I cut his inappropriate sentence off with a pillow to the face just as Y/n turns the corner into the room.

“Vampires have pillow fights at night?” She asks playfully, scanning the couch for a spot to sit. My clothes are swarming her and it stirs something I thought was long dead in my chest.

“Vampires do a lot of things at-” Emmett teases her, but this time Rosalie is the one to stop him with a smack to his chest.

Shaking my head, I find a spot on the opposite end of the long sectional from Emmett so as to limit the teasing. Embarrassment and a little something else I can’t quite put my finger on flows from her, so I pat the empty space next to me and hold out my hand for her to take. Once she’s settled with her legs tucked against her chest, I turn to ask Alice to press play and find her already giving me a pointed look. I wrap my arm around Y/n and pull her closer to settle against me, my sister smiles self-satisfied before hopping to the couch and starting the movie.

“Relax, sweetheart.” I whisper in her hair and I’m immediately shushed by Rose.

Y/n finally releases the tension in her body about five minutes into the movie and ten minutes after that, her legs are in my lap with the blanket pulled up to her chin.

“Alice, Rose? Can I get your help with opinions for a client?” Esme calls as she walks through the doorway to the garage halfway into the movie. “And Emmett, mind picking up Carlisle after his shift, sweetheart? I took his car this morning.”

All three of my siblings leave the room, Alice tossing me the remote and Emmett not-so-subtly flashing me a wink. He disappears before Y/n could notice and I could throw another pillow.

I feel her nerves ramp up as the house quiets again, I attempt to ground her by sliding a hand around her ankle under the blanket and it immediately has the opposite effect. Turning to her, she’s already watching me with her mouth open ready to say something, but it’s stuck. So my eyes drift to her mouth, lips that have tempted me from day fucking one. I know she sees what I’m fixated on, because her breath hitches and I tighten my grip on her ankle minutely - not to be painful, but a warning.

“Jasper-”

“May I?” I ask zoned in on her lips, unable to even want to hold myself back anymore. A curious Icarus to her solar flame.

She nods in a daze as my fingers trail her chin, but it’s not enough. “Words, darlin’. I need you to-”

But she’s leaning forward with a whisper, “Yes, Jasper.”

I swear time stops as a buzzing drowns my ears. Breaths puff from her beautiful lips in short spurts, anticipation oozes from her. I have to take a few seconds to collect myself, my mind running rampant.

I slide my hand around to cradle the back of her head and tilt it backwards, the tv casting a warm glow on her face. A shiver wracks through her and I tense, “Do not move.” The request is more of an order and she obeys instantly.

Leaning forward, her warm breath fans across my face before it stops with a sharp inhale. The only sound is her pounding heart and I swear it stutters as I gently meet her lips with mine.

Burning. This burning feeling starts where my lips tangle with hers and it travels down my throat to grip my rock-solid heart in a painful squeeze. Her mouth is warm and pliant where mine is cold and unyielding. Her nose is pressed against mine like a puzzle piece I’ve been missing. It’s absolutely bliss, her lips molding to mine, better than any indulgence I could possibly think up. Her quickening heart rate reminds me to reluctantly retreat - humans and their need for air.

I separate just barely from her mouth and she sucks in a gasp that tears my soul from my chest making me want to dive right back in. Opening my eyes to make sure this is in fact reality, hers are still lightly shut, bliss emanating from every single pore.

How on earth do I go about my day now? Knowing this perfection exists? She’s human, I can’t very well spend eternity kissing her here on this couch.

My groan causes her eyes to flash open and I notice they’re completely dilated, a dangerous observation for my control.

“Are you? I-I mean, did you not-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” My voice comes out huskier than I’d like and instantly she relaxes in my grip.

I push back a single strand of hair that blew across her face as I let out a long breath, barely an inch of space between us still. My willpower is at an all time low as we continue to stare at each other in somewhat surprise.

“Jaz?”

“Yes, darlin’?” I’m utterly raptured by her, firmly ensnared by this gorgeous girl - even more so than the moment I met her.

“Can… Can I?” Her question is open and tentative, but I can tell exactly what she wants and I’ll be damned if I don’t give it to her.

“Anything you want, it’s yours sweetheart.” It’s my turn to hold still, to wait patiently for her to come to me.

Reader

Holy fucking shit.

This without a doubt is what it’s like to have an addiction at first taste. Jasper Hale just kissed me and I’m about to kiss him, again.

I lean forward and smooth my hands up his chest to the base of his head, my fingers finding the short ringlets that hide under the bulk of his beautiful blonde hair. He’s deathly still with his eyes closed, allowing me to take the lead - but I also know this is a tricky situation with his control.

My nose bumps his as my eyes flutter closed and it’s his turn to elicit a sharp inhale. Nerves begin to flood my throat with cotton, but they’re gone almost as quickly, Jasper wiping them away with probably half a thought.

I closed the minuscule gap and my lips brush his a little deeper this time, relishing in the temperature difference. Kissing Jasper is in a category of its own, gone are the days I’ll ever settle for the warm mouth of any plain boy ever again.

Opening my lips enough to snake my tongue out for just a taste-

Suddenly there’s a couch-worth of separation between us and both of us are gasping for air like we’ve just run a marathon. His eyes are wide and wild, a darker brown than I distinctly remember a few moments ago.

“I-I’m so sorry,” his voice is strained and his hands are digging through his hair roughly, “Forgive me, darlin’-”

He fumbles at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing with no sound. Immediately I feel terrible because I pushed a boundary he wasn’t ready for.

“Jasper, please-I messed up and I’m so sorry.” I plead from my spot, scared to go and comfort him.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I should have my shit together-” but I stop his panicked apology.

“Look at me, please.” His eyes snap to mine at the request. I scoot closer to him slowly, stopping just within arms reach so as not to invade his personal space. “Can you close your eyes and just, feel with me?”

He takes half a second of hesitation before trusting me, his dark eyes snapping closed with a furrow in his brow. Taking a deep breath, I close my own and focus on exuding positive energy. Calm, content, tranquil - my mind running over any remotely helpful feeling to settle his inner turmoil. After a few moments of the impromptu meditation session, I open my eyes feeling much more relaxed. Staring back at me is the face of a much calmer, but shocked man.

“Did that work? I wasn’t sure, but-”

“You… No one has ever done something like that-darlin’.” Once again I’ve rendered him speechless and it brings a smile to my lips.

“Get used to it Hale, you’re stuck with me now.” I tell him, smug.

“Is that so?” He pulls me closer to him with a grin on his lips, the joy in my chest causing a laugh to burst from me as I toss my head back.

There isn’t a single place I’d rather be than his arms and I’m so glad he’s constantly opening pieces of himself up to let me worm my way inside.

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#bless-my-demons #redamancy series #jasper hale x reader #twilight #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #jasper hale fanfiction #jasper hale #female reader insert #jasper hale x female!reader #jasper hale twilight

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thesummerpetrichor · 2 years ago

Text

𝓒𝓪𝓻𝓶𝓮𝓷: 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷’ 𝓓𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷’

Javier Peña x afab!fem!reader

Summary: When you got dragged along to your father's weekend embassy getaway you were not expecting to meet the one man he couldn't stand. You weren't expecting to catch his eye. You weren't expecting that you'd be fucking him to get back at your father. You sure as hell weren't expecting him to be finger fucking you under your dinner table.

Warnings: 18+ only minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, reader is the ambassador’s daughter [please do not imagine your real dads because this shit gets nasty], thicc age gap [reader is in her early 20s Javier is in his 40s], petnames, Javi can lift reader, mommy and daddy issues for spice, use of ‘daddy’ [once] for extra spice, explicit language, explicit sexual content, size kink, mean!dom!brat tamer!Javi, brat!reader, dirty talk, degradation, public sex, semi public sex, fingering under the table, oral [m receiving], facial [oop], slight cumplay?, spanking, choking [like once], unprotected P in V [ do better!!] let me know if I missed anything!!

Word Count: 10.4k

A/N: This is part one of three (1/3) that follows these two's little horny adventure over the weekend. Pure and utter filth because I dreamt about being on an embassy vacay with Javi. Absolute depravity but I hope you nasties enjoy mwah!! 💗

Masterlist

Darlin', darlin', doesn't have a problem

Lying to herself 'cause her liquor's top-shelf

Sophie’s eyes shot open, mouth falling agape as she slowly turned her head in your direction. “You’re fucking kidding!” Lyn was already leaning over you, her upper body between her and your recliner, and Maria and Sandra had picked up their cocktails and skirted closer.

“DEA Javier?” Anne’s not so subtle reaction prompted a collective “shush” from the group. She lowered her voice, but sounded just as shocked as she did moments ago. “Mean, grumpy, asshole Javier?!” Sandra leaned in closer, then raised her brows at the former indicatively.

“Pornstar Javier.”

Maria smacked the both of you on your shoulders, her expression nothing short of grossed out. “You mean my tio Javier.”

Sighing you let your head fall back against your chair, legs stretched out and crossed over one another as you brought your straw to your upturned lips. Maria dropped her head on your shoulder. “You're going to kill your father”. Giggles floated through the warm afternoon air, drowned out partially by the music emanating from the restaurant nearby.

You were an unspecified amount of drinks into the morning, but more drunk on the prospect that Agent Peña was now in a prison of his own mind, having started something that had spun quickly out of his control. The sun was shining down on your mostly bare body, skin glittering thanks to the tiny droplets of water that gemmed your legs from when you’d walked across the beach and let the waves crash gently against them.

Sliding your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, you met his gawking eyes from across the pool. He was hunched over a whiskey at the bar, pretending like he wasn’t eye fucking his bosses daughter mere seconds ago, enjoying the view under the guise of relaxing with his partners.

You shot him a wink, concealing your smirk with your strawberry daiquiri when he nearly choked on his drink– clumsily accepting the paper napkin Carillo confusedly offered him.

You had legitimately tried every possible way of getting out of joining your dad on his little embassy getaway. It was the middle of summer, and spending the weekend with a bunch of retirees, cops, and CIA agents was not exactly what you would call an ideal vacation. But as always you ended up giving in, and before you knew it you were in Cartagena, sunhat perched on your head, checking into the hotel.

Why you indulged him was a mystery to you. The man had practically disappeared for six months, and then called you out of the blue begging you to tag along. It was like having the perfect family was a requirement at that shitty excuse of a job. You were convinced you were just there to be an accessory to his polished image, some sort of certificate of achievement for whatever the hell he called parenting.

But a free vacation? Free booze? Food? And a weekend with your friends? That seemed worth the trouble of having to deal with him for a couple of days, say ‘hi’ to and make menial conversation with his co workers, and sit through whatever superficial dinner they hosted to pat themselves on the back for the work they did over the past year.

Admittedly, it was going a lot better than you had initially expected. The oldies sat around playing cards– trying to discuss retirement plans and secure raises, and you stayed far away, sipping cocktails by the pool, lounging in the summer sun, and watching the volleyball matches on the sand. Cartagena had terrific beaches, and the DEA had a whole lot of people who contributed to the view.

At least they were good for something.

Their attaché was good for a lot of things.

Despite having never met him, you knew quite a lot about Javier Peña. How could you not? The man was on your dad’s mind more than your entire family. Insolent, dismissive, inflexible, impudent, you could go on for hours. You wondered what he was really like– the guy who had gotten more attention from your father in two years of his career than you did your entire life.

Expecting some grumpy, old, grubby handed man who spent all his time trying to pick up women at bars– calling it espionage, you were knocked for six when you saw tall, brown haired, broad shouldered, cut jaw, Agent Peña respond to his name being called across the reception. For how much the ambassador liked to discuss him he had completely glossed over his striking good looks.

Even though he wasn’t difficult to miss among the senior citizens it wasn’t his ‘pinup boy’ persona that initially caught your attention. From the moment you’d dragged your suitcase up the lobby staircase you couldn't help but shake the feeling that someone's eyes had been following you. You brushed it off at first, but their gaze had burnt a hole into your back soon enough, and you were forced to scout the room for the supposed perpetrator.

For better or for worse your voyeur did little to hide their private indulgence. Leaning against the concierge's desk you met the eyes of the one person you were least expecting to have caught the interest of. Granted, Javier looked rather delicious in his dark jeans and blue, cotton shirt, you’d expect he’d have at least a little more shame than everyone at the embassy gave him credit for.

It was quite flattering actually, the way he was eating up the sight of you in your sundress– that one you bought on your vacation in Italy last summer, the one that fell just above mid thigh, with that soft, white, cotton fabric that was perfect for the hot weather. He was smoking a cigarette beside your father’s assistant Colleen, and a blonde man whose face was turned away from you. His eyes raked over your body and landed on the pendant your dad gifted you for your birthday as it dangled from your neck– the blue diamond brushing over the valley between your breasts.

He knew you’d caught him, but that didn’t stop the man. It was admirable.

You had to assume he didn’t know who you were, because if he did he was pretty adventurous for salivating over you so openly, with your father just a few feet away. It wasn't difficult to get on the ambassador’s shit list, and by far Agent Peña seemed to be kicking everyone’s ass for the top spot. The fact that he was so obviously avoiding the ambassador wasn’t doing him any favors. Maybe this was his twisted way of getting back at your dad. Maybe you liked that it was.

Your father moved around the crowded lobby, switching pleasantries with the mostly sunburned crowd. He didn’t bother dragging you along for introductions, and usually you’d prefer being perched on the couch with your friends, but it was almost impossible not to feel a little left out when he cornered Peña and his blonde friend near the flavored water.

You watched from a distance as the ambassador took the blonde’s hand, shook it and then quite violently patted his back before he shook Peña’s shoulder in a painfully forced gesture. Truth be told, you felt quite bad for the man. It was a shame really– getting forced into spending a weekend with the only people more insufferable than the cartels.

For him, that is.

—

It's alarming, honestly, how charming she can be

Fooling everyone, telling 'em she's having fun

The smell of a well cooked meal should not have excited you as much as it did. But the prospect of being able to eat something that wasn’t cooked by your mother was far too appealing to pass upon. Lunch was served, even though you knew it was meant to be more of a commencement ceremony for the weekend.

You looked towards the restaurant– serenely sandwiched between the beach and the pool, and covered partially by a canopy of palm trees, to find the people moving in in droves. Eager to get the “fun” going. You had already lost your father to the crowd, and even better it seemed like he’d be gone a while before he’d be inflicting his presence on you once again.

Sophie emerged from the mob, looking dramatically desperate. She grabbed your arm. “I can’t do this sober”. She was serious as a heart attack, and so were you. Sliding your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose you met her gaze. “You and me both”

Browsing the spread was a workout of its own. The thing seemed to run for miles, and the task was only made harder thanks to the many people who stopped you on the way. “The ambassador's daughter right?!” What more could you do besides smile awkwardly and say hello. The whole world seemed to know your entire life story– where you were studying, your major, the fact that you’d spent the first week of summer with your mother. You knew your father liked to run his mouth, but the fact that you were, in any way, a point of conversation, was at the very least jarring.

After nearly twenty minutes of perusing you finally made it to the bar, and were utterly grateful for the handsome bartender who fixed your drinks in a giffy. All that was left to do was huddle in the corner and get day-drunk till the entire ordeal was over.

“Well, well well, what a surprise” Turning around from the onyx countertop, you came face to face with a firm, broad chest. You tilted your chin to find Maria’s dad smiling down at you. He reached for her, then mused the hair in a few rugged motions. She grumbled, but fell into his side anyway.

You liked Mr Carillo, he was really nice, always personable, and it looked like him and Maria had a great relationship. The man always looked out for her, made jokes with her, and didn’t take himself too seriously. He was a good dad.

“Nice to see you again Mr. Carillo.” You extended him your first genuine smile in what felt like hours. “So lovely to see you, I was wondering why Maria was so excited to tag along.” The colonel’s booming voice caught the attention of his two companions, who’s heads turned in your direction.

“That is absolutely false, I would never.” Maria looked at her dad as if to politely ask him to shut up, but as always her bright smile betrayed her. The two laughed, then turned to you once again.

As if he’d just realized something, Mr. Carillo spoke up frantically. “Oh, my apologies” he shook his head, chiding himself for his lack of introduction, and gestured to the two men sitting beside him. You didn’t need any introductions if you were being honest. After being subjected to your dads twenty four hour complaining you basically knew the whole embassy, could even recognize them from their little quirks or habits.

You certainly didn’t need an introduction for the dark head of hair that refused to look you in the eyes. “Steve Murphy.” Mr. Carillo grabbed the blonde– the one whose face you couldn't quite catch a glimpse of earlier, by the shoulder.

If you weren't so taken up by his partner, Murphy’s good looks would have swayed you just the same. But Steve was far too decent to undress you with his eyes from across the room, he was far too level headed to get on your father’s nerves. An unfortunate, or rather fortunate side effect of his unbearably favorable reputation was that he was completely and utterly uninteresting.

At least to you, brothel stories were far more entertaining than those of the duck hunting variety. And of course, news of hillbilly Steve’s shooting skills had reached the ambassadors desk. You wondered how Javier didn’t consider Murphy and your father’s trip to the lake treason.

He extended his hand towards you, and you shook it. Deep blue eyes affable and relaxed. Then again almost anyone looked relaxed in comparison to your father. His smile was so annoyingly friendly you thought you might just explode. “Nice to meet you” You noticed the wedding band twinkling on his ring finger. Cute.

Mr. Carillo nodded in his partner’s direction. “Javier Peña” His presence was a lot less larger than life up close. If you were being honest he looked quite flustered, nervous even. It crossed your mind that who exactly you were was only just beginning to dawn on him. All the machismo seemed to have faded at the realization that death would be better than indulging whatever little fantasy he had brewing in his head.

If there was one thing he wasn’t going to do, it was fuck his asshole boss’s daughter.

“The infamous Javier Peña.” Raising his drink to his lips, he formed a tight smile. “That’s me.” He let out a deep exhale through his nose, followed by another shakey smile, barely concealing his apparent desire to escape the entire situation.

“So you’re the one stealing my dad away.” The nice man that he was, Murphy had already indulged Papa Carillo and hija Carillo in a conversation about college. “nice to finally see you in person.” Javier wasn’t an idiot, anyone who could pick up on your tone would have understood in a moment you’d caught their prying eyes. He sighed, then chuckled, as if to acknowledge your teasing.

“Javi’s famous at home?” You seemed to have caught the blonde’s attention. You rolled your eyes, then fixed them on the agent in front of you. “You’d think they were married.” The group broke out into laughter, Javier excluded of course, who looked rather embarrassed at the prospect. It felt like only the two of you knew you weren't really joking.

“Not sitting at the ambassador’s table?” Javier seemed genuinely curious, like you had gone out of your way to silently torment him for his little private moment. “I couldn’t do that to myself” Yet again, there was laughter, and yet again it felt like a little inside joke between just you and Agent Peña.

Carillo and Murphy quickly became interested in something Maria had to say, and you took the opportunity to make Javier aware you weren’t in fact an completely oblivious idiot. “Hoping to see you around Agent Peña, and not just from afar this time.” He smiled, and raised his glass for a toast, rolling his eyes and finishing the last of his whiskey.

What kind of a psychopath drank whiskey at 2:00pm

It wasn’t long before you migrated to the far end of the restaurant. Thanks to the time they spent in Cali you were sure almost everyone had forgotten just how tremendously obnoxious your father was. Well, almost everyone. Poor agent Peña took every opportunity to escape working in Bogota, and still ended up trapped in a room with a hundred other people, being subjected to his presence.

You popped a cherry into your mouth, reaching for your third drink in a span of two hours, and forced your eyes away from the back of his head. Anything that could help you disassociate from your dads co co-workers' excruciating presence was worth a shot. Maria squeezed onto the table you and your friends were crowded on– all unwilling to go within meters of the shit show inside. She placed two margaritas on the table for Sophie and Sandra, the cultural attaché’s daughters, and then took a sip of her own. Looked like everyone was on the same page.

Bothersome clapping brought you back to reality, and you gazed up to find your dad moseying his way to the little stage at the center of the restaurant to grab the mic out of Noonan’s grasp. He fixed the sleeves of his white cotton shirt, then tossed his shades into its front pocket.

The man was preparing. Great.

Javier hung his head, then rubbed his temple. Presumably realizing that Noonan’s was far from the only speech he’d be enduring that afternoon. You watched as he slithered out of his table, presumably to the bar to drown in another glass of whiskey. If he thought this was bad, you wondered what he’d do if he met your mother.

Grabbing your lighter from the table you scooted out of your little corner in the far end of the restaurant. Hoping to make your escape before your dad began his toast, or worse noticed your presence. You squeezed past Sandra, whose forehead was plastered to the table, and shimmied out through the side staircase leading to the beach, careful to stay out of view of the stage.

You’d take anyone’s eyes following you besides your fathers.

—

She says, "You don't want to be like me"

Don't wanna see all the things I've seen

I'm dying, I'm dying"

The chipped wooden railing crackled softly under the weight of your leaning elbows, not dissimilar to the click of your lighter, to which you brought your cigarette.

It was difficult to believe you were already two weeks into the summer. The realization hit you that morning as you checked your ticket, and noticed how you didn't even know what day it was. Time had passed by rather quickly, to your dismay, and the feeling that your little vacation was slipping through your fingers had been haunting you ever since.

You wondered if this senior citizen's getaway you had decided to accompany your father on was really worth your time and energy. Sure, on the surface it was nice to see some of your friends again, and you’d be lying if you said you weren't excited for a free vacation, but you couldn’t shake the bitter taste the whole ordeal had left on your tongue.

The warm beach breeze kissed your skin, the smell of sea salt and the squawking of the seagulls lulling you into daze. Your father’s speech drowned out in the distance, and your mind drifted to the way Javier had so shamelessly checked you out in the hotel lobby.

Effecting you was one thing. Surely you were no stranger to catching people's attention, but it was the absolute boldness of the gesture that struck you. He let his eyes linger on your bare legs, let them rake slowly up your frame as if he were documenting the memory for later use. Right there, two feet away from your father.

It only made you want him more.

Agent Peña’s shameless gawking was enough to fan the little flames of desire already set ablaze in your system– since the moment you noticed him leaning against the concierge’s desk. But it was the precariousness of the situation that really excited you. As suave as he may seem, Peña was quite an easy read. You didn’t need to be a psychoanalyst to understand the man wasn’t one to say no to a little chaos, a little adrenaline rush, dare say a little fun. You also didn't need to be a psychoanalyst to notice the fact that he was clearly working against every bone in his body not to yield to his desires– for the sake of his peace of mind, and professionalism

You could imagine it already, the satisfaction of driving him just a little bit crazy– starting him off on something you knew he’d be compelled to finish. Something that if your father were to find, would drive him absolutely insane. After all you’d endured all these years, who was he to deny you a little fun? That too just to preserve his status and ego.

“Your dad know you’re sneaking off for a smoke in the middle of his toast?” Startled, you whipped your head in the direction of the voice, speak of the devil. You came face to face with Agent Peña leaning against the railing beside you. He crushed the butt of his cigarette against the wood. It was then you realized he had clearly been out far longer than you had.

“I don't know agent Peña, does your boss know you’re sneaking out in the middle of his toast?” You leaned towards him as you spoke, catching the faint scent of alcohol, cologne and now nicotine off his shirt, and watched his lips lift into a subtle smirk concealed lightly by thin gray smoke.

He raised his brow, and without waiting for you to offer, swifty took your cigarette from between your fingers– he took a puff. “So that's how it is..” his fingers brushed your skin when he handed the cigarette back to you, and you matched his expression as you took it between your index and thumb.

“I wont tell if you won’t” It was quite impressive how he managed to sneak up beside you, without catching your attention in the slightest. Not to mention you weren’t exactly sure how long he’d been creeping on you before he decided to do it anyway. If he looked at his informants with even half the charm he was flaunting with you, you’d have a lot of faith in his success rates. Who knew, maybe he was better at his job than your father liked to believe?

“The ambassador’s daughter huh?” It came out more strained than anything. Talk about an easy read– the man could barely curtail his disappointment. He looked at you once again. “Couldn’t tell.”

Cocking your head to the side you narrowed your eyes at him- expecting some stupid explanation. “Yeah, why’s that?”

“Expected you to be younger ‘f ‘m being honest.” He used the edge of the railing like an ashtray. “Really? How young.” You knew he was teasing, but you were also somewhat curious. What did he think your father’s daughter would be like?

He shrugged. “Four, five.” Then just barely managed to conceal his laughter. He was handsome, charming, strong headed and his career goals consisted of more than kissing his superiors asses. Of course your father hated him.

“At his age, please. If you're looking for a promotion, I'm not helping.” Scoffing, you watched as his eyes shifted to the beach. As he had done in the lobby you took your time to take in his profile– the way the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, his sunglasses teasingly tugging them further down.

He broke the silence. “So, What brings you on the retirement trip”

“I like a change of environment once in a while.” You shrugged, surprised by what seemed to you like genuine curiosity.

“What environment? The antique show?” He half rolled his eyes, then just barely motioned his head towards the restaurant. You sighed as you looked on, making out only the top of your dads head turning left to right, then another burst of artificial laughter. You turned back to face him, eyes raking over his frame.

“‘Was thinkin’ more vintage.” Javier laughed, almost impressed with how forward you were, leaning further forward across the railing, with his yale blue shirt stretched to the seams across his back, hugging his biceps and folding right above his elbow. “S’ that so?”

“And what's your deal? Just like pissing off the establishment?” his eyes dropped to your lips as he watched you take a puff. “Doesn't take much to do that now, does it babydoll?” The pet name had your breath hitching in your throat, you knew you were treading rocky waters.

“And how would I know that, Agent Peña” it felt like his brown eyes could look right through your body and to your soul, deep and twinkling– with what exactly you weren't sure at that moment. He chuckled to himself. He wasn’t exactly wrong, but what fun was just admitting it when you could involve him in your shenanigans.

Momentarily your eyes shifted to the cigarette. His eyes were trained on the smoke gently slipping past your lips as you inspected it. You twirled it between your fingers, and then turned your head to face him once again. “Just a hunch.” If he planned to keep you away he was doing a terrible job. Every moment spent with you was another foot underground.

Unfortunately for him, his attention was quickly diverted once again when he noticed you bring the cigarette to his mouth. Aware of what you were trying to do he parted his lips, letting you place it between them. You watched intently as he took a puff, still holding it in place without flinching. Gently, you brought it back to your mouth, but not before thumbing his bottom lip discreetly.

He exhaled the smoke. “See what I mean?” His jaw ticked, face tense but eyes turning impossibly darker. You almost felt a little bad for torturing and teasing him the way you were– knowing full well he couldn’t act on his desires. The man had little self control, and despite that he knew exactly what he was getting into when he sneaked up behind you. His compulsion was sweet.

You stepped closer, rising to your tiptoes to have your lips ghost his. “Maybe I do.” As you had done moments ago this time he reached for the cigarette between your lips. The man was using every bit of self restraint he could muster to keep his hands away. The tension in his brows formed tiny creases in his forehead, and his eyes practically pleaded with you to put him out of his misery – because god knows he looked like he couldn’t do it himself.

“Darling?!” Your eyes widened for a split second, before your lips reverted to their smile– the ring of your dads voice from what was not too far away bursting Javier’s little bubble and sending a wave of sheer panic through his system. It was cute– like a child getting caught holding hands with their kindergarten crush at recess.

Among the employees you’d heard about, you certainly didn't expect to be endeared by Javier Peña of all people. Still mere inches away from his face, you tilted your head ever so slightly, placing a soft, chaste kiss to his cheek. You felt his skin flush under your touch. The sound of muted laughter echoed from the restaurant once again, and you couldn’t help the feeling that it was mocking the man in front of you.

“See you at dinner Agent Peña!”

—

She says, "You don't want to get this way

Famous and dumb at an early age

Lying, I'm lying"

You had to bend your knees when you tried to catch up with your dad along the cobblestone pathway. Just to make sure you weren’t giving people a view as you ran in your all too short dress. Well, the wrong people that is. The ambassador had stood outside your door for a good twenty five minutes, willing you to come out while you tried on every possible outfit combination you had packed, all to catch the eyes of the one person he couldn’t stand.

It was quite enjoyable actually, hearing him plead with you to just throw something on and get moving as you sat inside– feet up on the vanity, perfecting your look, knowing just what the consequences would be.

You looked over yourself in the mirror time and time again. From the nail polish on your toes to the delicate earrings sparkling against your neck you spared nothing to ensure no detail of your appearance was left unaddressed.

An entire night of sitting and clapping at dull speeches, hearing each diplomat drone on about their achievements? Worst of all your father- who you were sure was going to take the opportunity of an open mic to give a lecture about hard work and dedication? Might as well make it an occasion.

With so much on your mind, who could blame you for forgetting to slip on your panties? A small lapse in your memory that was completely unmotivated, and to be honest, quite unfortunate, considering you were seated next to a certain Agent Javier Peña for the evening.

Throwing your oversized blazer on in a rush, you hoped it would do the job of making you look somewhat put together to everyone else at that shitty dinner. You were quite thankful when you realized you were not overdressed for the occasion, rather your short black dress came off far more ‘smart casual’ compared to the full length gowns, satin shawls and bow ties that roamed the hotel ballroom.

Tables were separated by mere feet, the room barely being able to accommodate the large crowd. Finding your seat seemed like a task, one that nearly everyone was struggling with. You knew you were seated with your dad at one of the smaller ones at the far end of the ballroom, but you didn't expect to be squeezing past entire embassy departments to get there.

It seemed like you’d been wandering for hours before you saw a face you recognised. You ducked under Javier’s deputy Neil, your head missing a jab from his elbow by inches as you attempted to scoot towards his boss– as always nursing a glass of alcohol in complete isolation, fingers massaging his temples.

And here you thought you weren’t looking forward to the event.

You walked up behind him. “I think you’re in my seat” You’d think he’d seen a ghost the way he seemed to be jumpscared by your presence. You felt the fabric of your dress brush the cut of your upper thigh– he was right to be afraid. He muttered a soft “christ” under his breath and swallowed thickly.

“Well, well, look who it is” The poor man sounded pained, just not pained enough to resist undressing you with his eyes as you walked around him and took a seat. It was like he was scared of you– of how good you looked in that little black dress, that slightly oversized blazer barely hiding you away from his prying eyes. Flattered, you let him enjoy the view for a moment, slipping your blazer off your shoulders far slower than necessary and letting it crumple behind you.

He watched the goosebumps erupt on your skin, thanks to the cool of the air conditioning.

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, all dressed up” You batted your lashes at him, leaning closer. If you thought he looked good before, boy did he look delicious in his fitted navy blazer, white shirt, and red tie. The outfit was so devastatingly boring, but he made it work somehow. He let out a small laugh, more of an exhale through his nose.

Your fingers ran along the unnecessarily expensive silk table cloth, lipstick you had smudged on your fingertips earlier staining it ever so slightly, inching closer. “That's cute babydoll, ambassador's mandate” He didn't even need to try to sound condescending, it was practically an inherent part of his tone. You rolled your eyes, then pouted up at him, reaching for his hand that was gripping his glass of whiskey.

“Who cares what the ambassador has to say, anyway” He let you play with his fingers, but scoffed at your whiny words out of stubbornness nonetheless. “Oh yeah, surely that's not a problem for you, is it?!” He was so close you could make out the scent of alcohol already on his breath– fanning against your smiling lips. You dropped your hand to rest on his thigh. Even by your standards you were being quite bold, but the sight of him shivering at your touch was well worth it.

You could have indulged him in conversation for hours, but unfortunately for him, from the corner of your eye you spotted a familiar black dress shirt, punctuated by the tone of manufactured enthusiasm.

“Hi darling” You jumped from your seat, rather quickly, and presumably gave Javier a bigger shock than the one you had two minutes before. A shame he seemed too lost in your conversation to have noticed your father strut to his seat.

“Hi dad” Smiley as ever you leaned over the table just enough to kiss his cheek, and more than enough to give Javier a view that had him choking on his drink yet again. The hem of your dress tickled your upper thigh. You bit back a smile when heard him cough behind you.

Thank god for his dark blazer– you’d hate to have his whiskey stain his perfect outfit.

Your father gave him a curious, worried onceover as he scrambled to his feet. “Good evening Agent Peña, all okay?”

“Yes- yeah,– perfect ambassador-” Things were in fact not perfect– by his standards that is. You could tell by the storm that was clearly brewing under his professional facade. He let out a shaky breath, wiping his sweaty palms on the fabric of his dress pants while he watched your dad inspect the name placards. “Quite a table they put together huh?”

“Tell me about it” He breathed, and shot you a look that could kill. Having caught a glimpse of what was under your dress– or rather the lack thereof, you couldn’t blame him.

“Mr. Stechner! So nice to see you-” For the first time in his life Javier was happy to see Bill Stechner. He took the opportunity opened by your dad as he greeted him to give you a piece of his mind. “Are you tryna’ get me fucking killed?!” He did not sound happy, voice a seething whisper in your ear. You bit your lip to keep from smiling.

“Slipped my mind..” You were lucky the table was big, the arriving guests oblivious to your whispers. He took a final swig of his drink, glass now empty and glistening with golden residue. It was nearly full when you first approached him.

“Bil, Brenda” Javier’s hatred for Bill was so well known even you were privy to it. The man did little to hide it anyway. The thought of poor old him juggling Stechner, Noonan, your father and now you only egged you on. He shook the man's hand, and you wondered if Bill felt the otherwise indifferent agent’s cold sweat.

He turned back to you. “Yeah? you managed a blazer but not your fucking panties?” You’d think Javier’d leave this kind of a shakedown for his interrogations, because by the way he was talking to you you’d think you’d committed some horrendous offense. When he put it the way he did, it sounded a lot more adventurous then you would have let yourself believe.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

He grabbed a fresh drink off a passing waiter’s tray– one that was definitely not meant for him. “Thank you.” Then again with how chaotic the past five minutes turned out to be you were sure he didn’t care.

“Wasn’t thinkin’ bout that” You pouted up at him, and he looked like he could almost cry from frustration. What a sight that would be for the embassy dinner. He exhaled heavily instead.

“Goddamn brat”

That you were, and you were going to be until he finally caved.

The table took their seats, former ambassador Noonan and Milgroup head Owen joining the group. Thanks to the way the room was set up, those sitting opposite you and Javier were forced to turn their chairs towards the stage at its front so as to not crane their necks awkwardly during the speeches. They were quite enthused about the whole thing, but you wondered why, considering they wouldn’t be missing much by looking away anyways.

“Stuck with the old curmudgeons tonight huh?” Owen pointed to the rest of the table like he didn’t already have a foot in the grave. They laughed nonetheless. “Gonna be a long night.” Noonan turned away just in time to not notice Javier grip the bottom of your chair, and yank it closer. You looked up at him, as if to ask what the hell he was doing, but he paid you no mind. Until that moment you were feeling quite smug, even impressed with yourself. But you were stupid to think that Javier Peña, of all people, was going to let your misbehavior slide.

“Better get comfortable” To the ringing words from father dear the group clinked their glasses. Javier pat you on the back, casually letting his hand slither down and rest beside your leg on your chair. What the hell was he doing? It didn’t matter, your dad was already bringing up his successful raid in Cali.

“Congratulations Agent Peña, I wish I would’ve bought you a bottle of champagne or something. Completely slipped my mind” It of course did not slip your fathers mind, he’d brought up the raid on the way to the resort. There was just no way in hell he was conceding to that “fucker” especially after he’d ignored his instructions. Instructions that were very clear: do not go forward with that raid.

“Not at all, ambassador. All this- “ He gestured to the table “Is more than enough” what a fucking shill. You had to give it to him, the man knew how to kiss ass. Surely the establishment would notice, but hell what could they even do? His mockery was so subtle they couldn't even point it out.

“Gives us a reason to see the kids” Genuine as ever Owen raised his glass. Maybe you gave these freaks too much credit. Out of the blue you felt a warm hand sneak up your upper thigh, finding a home dangerously close to the hem of your dress. Yelping unintentionally you felt a chill run down your spine as Bill spoke.

“Of course! s’nice to see some fresh faces”

Rough fingers smoothed over your supple skin. “To the youngsters” Your father raised his glass, but you could barely think of anything else besides the desire that was polling in your belly. You shifted in your seat again, but Javier was quick to pinch you slightly as a warning. Something told you it was the least severe one he dished out.

The room suddenly felt a lot warmer than it did a few minutes ago. Javier brushed his thumb against your flesh, then squeezed. He gazed down for a moment, then smiled the first genuine smile you’d seen that evening. He raised his glass, and looked your father right in the eye.

“To your daughter, ambassador”

That sick fuck. You’d be lying if you said it didnt make your heart flutter, or your tummy twist with need. And you thought he was shameless before. You lifted your champagne glass to the toast, but clinking glasses was a whole lot more difficult considering Agent Peña had inched his way up and made himself comfortable on your inner thigh.

It was getting more and more difficult to ignore the warm tingle between your legs, the way Javier’s touch was leaving your skin uncomfortably tingly.

Feeling the heat rise up your neck and burn the shell of your ears you dropped your gaze from the rest of your companions, grateful when they turned their attention to the ceremony. The lights dimmed to signal the welcome speaker to the stage, and you just hoped, prayed they would stay exactly that way the entire evening.

You turned to the dirty old man beside you only half hoping what you were about to say would kick some sense into him. “Are you crazy?! What the fuck are you doing?” A few inches up and he’d be fingering you at the table-

your heart pounded in realization.

His hand slipped under the veil of your dress, his smile dripping with condescension as he leaned beside your ear– whisper hot and deep and heavy. “Wanted it so bad didn’t ya babydoll? Now you’re gonna take it, and you better stay fucking quiet.” His words went straight to your core. You wanted to respond, but what was there to say? Besides, Colleen had taken the stage already- there was no going back now.

You felt your pulse in your throat. As the crowd broke into applause his rough fingers slipped between your aching folds, immediately drenched with your slick. Still looking forward he raised his brows, biting back a smile at how wet you were for him. Few more minutes and you’d be sliding off the damn chair.

Instinctively, you shifted forward on your chair, willing him closer. You swallowed a whimper when he pinched your thigh– hard this time, and shot you a deadly look of warning. You’d flown too close to the sun, and now you were in no position to negotiate with him.

His fingers moved to draw gentle soft circles on your clit, eyes completely focused on Neils little end of year debrief. He worked agonizingly slow, rubbing you just enough to keep building that pool of desire burning in your belly.

You had to fight the extreme urge to grind against his hand, his feather light touches making you break into a cold sweat. Folding forward you rested your head against your hand, screwing your eyes shut in an effort to block out the buzz that had taken over your whole body.

Neil said something marginally funny, and your table broke into laughter– forcing a strained chuckle out of your throat. Javier kept going, no regard for the fact that you were shifting and squirming in your seat with need. You hoped it was convincing enough to draw attention away from your labored breaths.

His digits slipped further back, barely teasing your leaking entrance. You gasped, but quickly realized your faux pas, and covered it up with the most convincing cough you could muster. Noonan turned around– concerned as ever the poor woman, as did Bill and his wife Brenda.

“You alright?” you nodded, voice strained. “Sorry, allergies”. Javier the pervert that he was didn’t plan on easing up on you, just returned his attention to your aching clit. With the three of them looking directly at you. “I think I need some water”. You attempted to evade his hold and escape– hoping he’d get the message and finish what he started outside.

Your plans however, were immediately trampled upon, with the ever chivalrous Javier speaking up. “Oh you can have mine, wouldn’t want to miss the speech.” He pushed his glass of water towards you with two fingers, eyes finding yours, lips twitching into a smile.

It felt like hours, you had no clue what the hell was happening around you– so utterly focused on trying to curtail your moans. You’d finished your champagne a while ago, but were dizzy thanks to Javier's moving digits.

Fast for a moment, then slower, he rubbed your sopping cunt like it was the most normal thing in the world. Everytime you looked at him he made sure to ignore you, knowing full well that one glance under the thin cover off your table cloth and anyone would be privy to your debauchery.

As if things couldn't get any more scandalous, your dad turned towards him. He asked Javier a question, and the agent responded more enthusiastically than he ever had.

Unable to look at the man you kept your gaze fixed on your empty glass of champagne, burning with humiliation. Part of you, a bigger part than you’d like to admit, secretly seemed to enjoy the entire ordeal. After all he’d put you through you couldn’t help but tip your hat at Javier’s absolute nerve.

Just barely, he slipped a thick finger in your dripping hole, curling it ever so slightly as he continued to engage your father in conversation. The maniac that he was Javier looked the ambassador right in the eyes– like he wan’t finger fucking his only daughter under their dinner table.

A bead of sweat rolled down your neck, the whole room looking disorderly. You were beginning to see double. As if not to provide you too much relief he slipped his finger out of your dripping cunt, teasing your inner thighs.

So close, you were so close, just on the brink of no return, but you couldn’t cum – for more reasons than one. It was all too much, and you were overheating, and you felt dizzy. You didn't realize your breathing had quickened, and so did his fingers. You heard someone call your name, but couldn’t make out who exactly it was.

Falling forward and into a fit of coughs you screwed your eyes shut. Zoning in and out of consciousness you attempted to focus on your father’s face as he called out for you. Javier’s hand had settled on your thigh once again, rubbing soothing circles in an attempt to calm you down.

“Jesus Christ, are you okay?” Catching your breath you swallowed thickly, watching as your dad prepared to get up from his seat. From the looks of it he must have thought you were dying. If you were in any condition to, you would have stopped him yourself. It would only make things worse than they already were.

Lucky for you a hand on his shoulder promptly intercepted him.

Javier leaned in his direction. Nodding towards the stage. “Your speech ambassador.” He looked towards you, sweaty and hot all thanks to him. “I'll handle it.” That bastard. He knew your dads vices just as well as you did– completely confident he could never abandon his chance at addressing the captive audience of his employees, no matter how important the interruption.

More swiftly than you’d like to admit he helped your shaky legs out of your chair. You haphazardly pulled and tugged at the hem of your dress, nervous it was doing little to cover you up.

“Thank you Agent Peña.” In the midst of your extreme desperation you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. What kind of man, father, let some stranger watch his daughter– who by the looks of it was pretty much on the verge of a heart attack? Sure, it would have foiled your secret little plan, but christ it would be nice if he could hold up the caring father act a little longer.

“Let's get you some air sweetheart” The fucker smiled so sweetly it made you want to deck him in the face, but boy were you itching to get outta that ballroom. He let you walk in front of him, putting himself between the dress that barely concealed your wet, swollen, bare pussy, and anyone else’s prying eyes.

Once you were out of eyeshot he practically dragged you outside, pushing you roughly against the back of the building. He caged you against the wall, ripping that pathetic excuse of a cover up right of where you were holding it against your body. “Oh babydoll, you still pretendin’ you need that shitty blazer”. It was only then you realized how cold the evening was.

“See that-” he held up his hand, fingers coating with your slick. “See what a desperate brat y’are” You were dripping for him, you could feel it on the insides of your thighs, you didn’t necessarily need a reminder.

Bringing his fingers to your mouth he ran them across your lips, the taste of your own arousal now heady on your tongue. “Jus’ for you.” Looking up at him through your lashes you slurred your words. Unintentionally sounding a lot more dumb and drunk than you intended.

“Oh really?” Unimpressed, he grabbed your face, and roughly tugged you towards him. “Don’t think so honey” Before you could think you were being spun to face the wall you had you back against moments ago. He was practically scolding you.

“not when you showed up in this flimsy lil dress, tits and ass out for the whole world to see.” The disgust was evident in his tone, but the both of you knew he had just as much part to play in this whole deal as you did. He pressed your face against it, one hand more than enough to hold you there while the other found the hem of your dress– fiddling with it. A cool breeze brushed your skin when he flipped it over.

“Look at that-” running two fingers against your folds, he admired the mess between your thighs. Your slick glistened against your skin obscenely in the moonlight, and if the way Javier chuckled behind you was any indication, he sure as hell seemed proud to be the one responsible for the mess.

You ached for him. Tension only building by the moment.

“So goddamn needy, ready to cum on my fingers in front of that damn whole room.” The flesh of your ass was left stinging in the wake of his hand that came down harshly against you. Sounding both exasperated and prideful you felt his breath tickle your ear as he spoke.

“Felt so good.” It came out broken and whimpery, and had him pressing against you with a chuckle. You felt him grind against your ass, hard and heavy. Desperate already, every moment left empty only made you more of a brat. Your hand snaked behind you and between your bodies to haphazardly tug at his belt, but he promptly grabbed your wrist, and twisted it till you yelped.

Chuckling beside your ear he slapped your ass yet again. “Just can’t help yourself, can you, babydoll?” Upper body pressed flush between his expansive chest and the wall you shivered. The warmth of Javier’s body was the only thing between you and the cold, cold night.

“dumb” smack “slut” smack.

You felt your cunt spasm around nothing, if he was looking to get back at you it was working. In an effort to catch a glimpse of him, you turned your cheek. “Need you so bad” your whole body was hot with desire, voice so full of want.

With a strong hold on your waist, he firmly squeezed before deftly flipping you towards him once again. Your back hit the wall and his hands flew to cup your cheeks. He brushed his thumbs over your cheek bones, mocking your pout with one of his own.

“Oh babydoll, I know.” murmuring, he trailed his knuckles along the valley between your breasts. Pinching the fabric of your neckline between his fingers he inspected it. His twinkling eyes met yours again. “I know, ‘s okay, babydoll.” God you loved hearing that name. The flimsy strap fell off your shoulder, and he took the opportunity to pull it down, revealing your bare chest to the chilly evening breeze.

You shuddered, feeling your nipples pebble under his soft touch. The view must really be something– especially with the way he sucked in a breath, reveling in it with a sigh. “Lucky you’re so fucking pretty”. You meweled when you felt him squeeze your breast in his palm, then bend down to kiss along your neck. His little backhanded compliments making you dizzy.

“Cuz’ you can’t fucking think straight” He dragged his lips to the base of your jaw.

“Been all over me the whole fuckin’ day” his teeth grazed your earlobe before he placed a kiss behind your ear. “Beggin’ for my attention?” his voice dropped three octaves, and despite all the shamelessness you’d shown, the heat rose to your cheeks. There was no doubt he felt it on your scorching skin.

“Wanted to make your pops mad huh?” Your dress bunched up over your hips as he lifted you, legs wrapping tightly around his waist. He took the chance to slip his hands under it, trying to feel any part of you he could expose.

Your lips met his in a frantic kiss– raw from how you'd been biting them all night, letting him lick into your mouth. Somewhere along the way he’d undone his belt, and you felt his cock rest heavy against the inside of your thigh. “Gonna fuck all this brat outta ya’ jus’ like ya need babydoll.” The ache between your legs was nearly unbearable. He looked so handsome, skin illuminated by the moonlight, hair completely disheveled thanks to how you’d run your fingers through it.

His hands grabbed your thighs, lifting you ever so slightly to ease you onto his cock. The growl that left his lips was nothing short of animalistic. Your mouth fell agape in a wordless cry at the stretch of him. Big and thick inside of you. The feeling of finally being full beginning to satisfy the burning desire that had been ablaze in your core for the past hour.

Javier didn’t waste time, hips slamming into yours quick and steady immediately. The drag of his cock against your wet walls had you throwing your head back, the two of you engulfed in a bubble of hot moans and breathy sighs.

“This what you wanted? Wanted to get fucked against the wall like a hooker?” He forced your eyes to meet his, fingers gripping your chin roughly. He watched you intently, taking in every flutter of your eyes, tick in your jaw, bite of your lip. “Y- yes- god”

“Fuck, takin’ this cock so well.” Your back arched against the flat of the wall, tits bouncing with every thrust of his hips. The feeling was like no other– knowing he was staring down at your body– the sight of your clothes half off you, eyes clouded and barely open, lips parted.

You felt his cock twitch inside you.

One hand gripping your thigh, the other plastered to the wall beside your head he pounded into your aching cunt. His broad frame engulfed you in a little cocoon of your own, broad shoulders slumped forward.

You made out a muffled voice from inside– your dad going on about something along the lines of “his lovely daughter, who getting through the year would be impossible without.” If only he knew.

Seemed like Javier also took notice– a sarcastic chuckle slipping past his lips.

“Hear that baby girl? Think he knows what his ‘good girl’s doin’ out here” You shook your head vehemently, smiling at the thought your father was inside preaching the gospel while his daughter was getting railed by the one man he couldn't stand– like one of his back alley hookers. You moaned between your little laughs– constantly cut off by the feeling of his cock nudging that sweet spot inside you.

You took his bottom lip gently between your teeth, then released it before nipping at his jaw. “Fucking brat”. He groaned– low and breathy, smiling against your lips. “Think he knows his good girls gettin’ fucked by a guy twice her age?”

“Not his good girl” In the midst of your breathless whining, you tugged him closer, head shaking vehemently. The hand that had been beside your head came to cup your breast. He looked so proud it sent your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Yeah, that’s right. ‘s cause you're my dumb slut aren’t you?” Approvingly, he brought his large hand to wrap around your neck, swallowing your moans in a kiss. You nodded your head frantically– it took a whole lot more effort with his hand wrapped firmly around your throat, pinning your head against the wall, but you managed it.

“Think he can hear you begging for my cock, babydoll?” His nose brushed yours as he murmured suggestively against your slack lips. Probably feeling how your cunt squeezed around him he made the correct assessment that you were enjoying every little bit of this debauched encounter. “Little slut.” His hips slammed against yours, your back grazing the brick wall behind you as you bounced on his cock.

“Don’t care.” Even when he was fucking you like a back alley slut the prospect of making him feel good was enough to quell your conscience. Besides being able to spite your dad, you were thoroughly enjoying his attention, his praise, the way he liked calling you babydoll when he was making you cum on his cock.

“Fuck, so goddamn tight-” he nipped at your neck. “wouldn’t think it huh babydoll? Not with the way you’re whoring yourself around” His words disoriented you and you tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer– deeper as you neared your release. You felt your pussy flutter around his cock, each slam of his hips having his tip brush your sweet spot.

“Gonna cum” it came out a squeak as you flung your arms around his neck, raking your fingerings through his hair– tugging and pulling, just grappling at anything to cope with the heat between your legs. He rested his forehead against yours, forcing your gaze towards him. “Dirty little thing. Cum all over my cock. Show me how much you wanted it– come on.”

You fell forward, buried your face in the crook of his neck as you came undone, walls pulsing around him. “Fuckin hell, squeezing me so fucking good, babydoll.” Spaced out you rode out your high, body shivering with the aftershocks as he continued to fuck your sensitive pussy. He pinned your head against the wall with his hand around your throat once again, needing to see the sight of you.

The feeling of your cunt gushing around his cock had his hips stuttering against yours. You felt him throb inside you– he was so close. He screwed his eyes shut. “Where you want it babydoll?”

You weren't really sure what exactly came over you, but the words were leaving your mouth before you could even register them. “my face.” At first, he looked at you a little incredulously, but after he’d had a moment to register he seemed more than inclined to give you what you wanted. “Really are a whore aren't you?”

He quickly, but steadily let go of your thighs, and took a step back to make room for you infront of him.

You swiftly lowered yourself to your knees, taking his cock, wet with both his and your arousal, past your lips. “Fuckin’ where you belong” He grabbed the back of your head, thrusting into your warm, wet mouth. You felt the tip of him nudge the back of your throat. Tears stung the back of your eyes, then smudged your mascara and rolled down your cheeks in thick opalescent drops.

“Aint that right babydoll?” you hummed around him, attempting to take him as far back as you could. He didn’t spare you any sympathy, guiding you over his cock in harsh motions, and seemingly egged on by the way you choked and spluttered around him. Your hands flew to grip his thighs.

“S’ all it takes to shut ya up?” You whined around his length, hollowing your cheeks and gazing into his hooded eyes. The gravely, sandy ground scraped against your bare knees, even more so when you shifted slightly closer to Javier. Little grains left their indents on your skin. You felt them bruise with each movement.

In the moment he eased his grip on the back of your head and you released him with a pop. You took him in your hand, stroking the length of him and suckling at the head, voice slightly hoarse from the friction.

“Please daddy, need it so bad” You whimpered, gazing up at him through wet lashes. He exhaled deeply, brows furrowed, and lips parted. You caught him completely off guard with that one, but judging by the look on his face you’d hit the jackpot.

He cursed under his breath. “Holy shit” Closing your eyes you fluttered your tongue against him, relishing his groans as he hit his release. You felt his cock pulse and throb in your hand, cum hitting your face in hot spurts as he rode out his high. Thrusting into your fist.

You swirled your tongue around the head, kissing his tip. When you opened your eyes you found him intently watching his spend trickle down your chin and down the valley between your breasts. Your tongue darted out to lick your swollen lips, and he visibly suppressed a groan at the action.

“Goddamn” You could barely make out what he said the way he was catching his breath. Sighing, he stroked your head affectionately, almost petting you. You dodged his hand, then stood back up on your feet, albeit wobbly, as he tucked himself back into his dress pants.

“There is no way in hell I'm going back inside that shit hole.” You said matter of factly and watched as he bent down to pick up your discarded blazer– now lightly dusted with white sand, and tried his best to brush it off.

“Like hell you aren’t. What am I supposed to tell your dad? That you're busy cleaning my cum off your cute face?” You don't think you could get tired of hearing him call you cute.

It was like he was trying to cover up for some horrendous crime he’d just committed– fixing his tie, running his fingers through his hair, smoothing his hand over his wrinkled button up. It was quite funny seeing him half panicked yet completely incapable of keeping himself away.

When you pulled him towards you his collar felt slightly damp in your hands where your fists had grabbed it. You tightened his tie, fixing the dimple in it. His nose barely touched yours. Unable to keep your eyes away from his lips, you brushed your thumb at their corner as you spoke. “Don't tell him that just yet. Wanna be there to see the look on his face when he figures it out.”

“Jesus Christ”

His eyes blackened yet again, and you could already see the little urge to press you right back against the wall for the second time. He rubbed your cheek with his thumb and index, letting his cum coat his fingers before he was pressing them into your mouth. Your lips wrapped around his digits as you obediently sucked, looking up at him the way you had on your knees moments ago.

“Dirty little girl.” You couldn't tell if he was surprised or in disbelief, whatever the look was it suited him. He draped your blazer over your shoulders, discreetly scanning your surroundings for passersbys. “Now get the fuck outta here”

“‘Night night Agent Peña, see ya tomorrow..” You pressed your lips against his, letting him taste himself against them and swallow one last whimper when he grabbed your hips. The fabric of your dress crumpled and rode up your thighs impossibly as he squeezed your flesh. He lightly squeezed your ass once more for good measure.

Unsurprisingly you felt a lot of pride as you walked, rather limped, on the path towards your little villa. Even more so when you turned around to catch Javier, exhausted and distressed, leaning his forehead against the wall he’d just fucked you against.

The boys, the girls

They all like Carmen

She gives them butterflies, bats her cartoon eyes

She laughs like God

Her mind's like a diamond

Audiotune lies

She's still shining

Like lightning, whoa-whoa

White lightning

🍓 Part II

Gonna burn in hell for this one but it was worth it. I hope you lovelies enjoyed. Again this is part one of three so we’ll be getting more of these nasties don’t you worry. Please let me know what you think, your comments mean the world. Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work you keep me writing! Dividers and banners by @ saradika 💗🐝✨

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