#she just came out of the forest and just walked right up to me and didnt even smell me before demanding pets | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stylesispunk · 3 months ago

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'Landed too hard'

outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: You save Joel's life from raiders but instead of thanking you, he gets mad at you.

You get hurt and you are forced to be vulnerable with each other.

wc: 7k

warnings: age gap, established relationship, angst, fluff, miscommunication, insecurities, mentions of blood, and fluff

a/n: i'm slowly coming back to this with this baby here that was on my drafts. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated ��

The forest was too quiet for your liking. No birds, no wind—Just the soft crunch of the snowy ground beneath your feet as you followed Joel who was ahead of you and Ellie. There was something in the air this day, eerie silence pressing on your chest, tension, and Joel had been on edge all day, his broad shoulder seemed tense under his jacker, his grip on the rifle tighter than usual.

It felt like the premonition of something bad coming on your way. So, you kept your knife close and your gun pressed under your hand.

“We’ll set up camp soon,” Joel muttered, his voice low without looking behind to you and Ellie.

Ellie groaned. “Finally. My feet feel like they’re gonna fall soon.”

You gave her a tired smile at her remark, but your eyes stayed on Joel. His jaw was tight, the scar above his brow crinkling deeper. You knew him well enough to read the signs—he was worried. More than usual.

That’s why you didn’t even hear them coming.

One second, you were walking behind Joel, and the next, chaos broke out. Shouts echoed through the trees. Five, maybe six men, all armed came out from nowhere. Joel shoved you and Ellie behind an overturned log.

“Stay down,” he growled, pressing his rifle into your hands. “If anyone gets close, you shoot. Don’t move unless I say so.”

“Joel—”

“Stay.”

You swallowed your fear and nodded, grabbing Ellie and pulling her down. Joel stepped out, drawing their attention, firing a shot that took one of the men down, then another and so on.

But the rest came fast. Through the cracks in the log, you watched Joel fight. He moved like a man who’d done this too many times, but even then, it was too much. One of the raiders tackled him, and suddenly, Joel was on the ground, with one of those men’s hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing hard.

the man’s hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing hard.

“Shit,” you whispered, your heart pounding so hard you could barely hear Ellie’s panicked breathing next to you.

Joel clawed at the man’s wrists, his face turning red, veins bulging in his neck. He wasn’t going to get out of it and you couldn’t just sit there watching the man you loved die in front of you.

“Stay here,” you told Ellie, voice shaking from rage.

“Wait…what are you doing?!” she whispered.

Your body moved before your mind could argue. You were already running before Ellie could have the chance to stop you.

You tackled the man strangling Joel, knocking him off balance, but before you could finish him, another set of hands grabbed you from behind. You struggled, kicking and clawing, managing to land a sharp elbow into the man’s ribs before twisting free. The first man lunged again, but you dodged, feeling the burn of a knife slicing across your cheek. The pain barely registered as you drove your own blade into the man’s neck, then turned and plunged it into the second attacker’s chest before he could recover. Warm blood splattered your hands as the man crumpled, gasping his last breath.

You stood there, panting, adrenaline rushing through your veins.

Joel coughed violently, rolling onto his side, his face pale and drenched in sweat. You dropped to your knees beside him, your hands hovering uselessly. “Joel? Hey—hey, are you okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, still gasping for air. When he finally sat up, his brown eyes locked onto yours—not with gratitude, but with pure, burning rage.

“The fuck were you thinking?” he rasped, voice raw.

You blinked, the adrenaline still rushing through you. “I—I had to. He was going to—”

“You didn’t listen to me!” Joel slammed his fist into the dirt, his whole-body trembling with anger. “I told you to stay hidden! What if he’d killed you?!”

“Well, he didn’t” you stated, “I saved your life!”

“And you risked yours doing it!”

His voice echoed through the trees, sharp and unforgiving. You felt your chest tighten, heat rising in your throat.

“I’m not some helpless girl you can just shove behind a log, Joel! I did what I had to!”

Joel stood up, wiping the blood from his hands. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything else. The space between you felt impossibly wide.

He ran a hand over his face, stepping back like he couldn’t even look at you. "You put yourself in danger. You could’ve been killed. Do you even get that?"

"I get that I just saved your ass!" You shot back, the weight of the moment crashing over you. "And all you can do is yell at me?"

He exhaled sharply, his hands curling into fists before he turned away. "I ain't doin' this."

"Fine," you bit out.

The air between you felt thick, suffocating. You glanced at Ellie, who stood off to the side, arms crossed, her expression tense.

You lifted a hand to your cheek, your fingers coming away sticky with blood. The cut burned now that the adrenaline was wearing off, and you sucked in a sharp breath. Ellie’s eyes flicked to the wound, concern flashing across her face, but she didn’t say anything. Joel still wasn’t looking at you, his back rigid as he adjusted his pack.

"We should get moving," he muttered, voice low and strained.

You nodded, swallowing down the ache in your throat. Without another word, the three of you fell into step, the silence stretching between you like an open wound

That night, you found a small clearing tucked between dense trees, far enough from the road to feel safe. The cold had settled deep, and you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself as you sat near the weak glow of the fire. Joel had barely spoken a word since the fight, his focus set on keeping watch, his back to you.

You weren’t hurt by his words or the outburst he had, but by the idea of him willingly die and feeling at peace with it. How easy would be for him to left you behind and in your own.

You dismissed your thoughts as you dug through your pack for a rag, pressing it against the wound on your cheek. The sting made you wince, and you cursed under your breath.

A quiet shuffling caught your attention, and you looked up to see Ellie kneeling beside you, her brows furrowed.

"Here," she said, pulling a small bottle of alcohol from her pocket. "Let me help."

You hesitated for a moment, then gave her a small nod. She dampened the cloth with the antiseptic and reached for your face. The touch was gentle, but the sting made you hiss.

"Sorry," Ellie murmured, concentrating as she cleaned the cut. "You’re lucky it’s not deeper."

You let out a small chuckle, though there wasn’t much humor in it. "Lucky isn’t exactly how I’d describe this day.”

Ellie huffed, finishing up before pulling a bandage from her pack. "Well, you’re not dead, so that counts for something."

You smiled faintly, glancing toward Joel. He still hadn’t turned around. You sighed, looking back at Ellie. "Thanks, kid."

She just shrugged, but there was warmth in her eyes. "Anytime."

As the fire crackled softly between you, you finally felt a small sense of comfort—at least, from Ellie. Joel, on the other hand, was still a storm brewing on the other side of camp.

Joel sat a few feet away, his gaze drifting to you as he kept watch. He noticed the way you shivered, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, but still, you slept. He hesitated, jaw tightening as he debated with himself. Then, with a quiet sigh, he shrugged off his jacket and carefully draped it over you.

You stirred slightly at the added warmth, a small, unconscious sigh escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake. Joel lingered for a moment, watching you, before settling back down next to you as if he needed to remind himself you were still here.

The fire in your camp had burned down to glowing embers, the scent of smoke mixing with the cool morning air. Joel sat near it, his hands wrapped around his termo, sipping coffee our from it, his eyes occasionally flicking over to where you slept.

Your back was to him, your body curled slightly, the jacket pulled high over your shoulder. The cut ran along your cheekbone from the fight the day before—a fight that left you and Joel in a tense, suffocating silence. Reminding him how you always put yourself in danger for him.

He hated himself for it. How he had came to the point where he felt useless.

Now, in the morning light, you looked peaceful despite the frown that creased your forehead. Joel knew that look. He knew you too well.

Ellie stirred next to him, stretching before getting to her feet. She glanced at you, then back at Joel. “Should I wake her up?” she asked, rubbing her tired eyes.

Joel shook his head. “Not yet.”

Ellie raised a brow. “Why?”

Joel sighed, glancing at you again before taking another sip of coffee. “She’s got a frown.”

Ellie blinked. “Yeah, ‘cause she’s mad at you. Even in her sleep.”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose, but there wasn’t much fight in it. “No. It’s different. She gets that when she gets a migraine.” He ran a hand over his beard, glancing at you again. “Let her sleep a little longer.”

Ellie’s teasing smirk faded slightly, replaced by something softer. “You really pay attention, huh?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took another slow sip of coffee, staring into the fire. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “When it comes to her of course I do.”

Ellie sighed, dropping back down onto the log next to him. “So… you gonna fix this or what?”

Joel tensed, setting his cup down beside him. “She doesn’t wanna talk to me.”

“Yeah, because you yelled at her.” She reminded him.

Joel rubbed a hand down his face. “She shouldn’t have done what she did.”

“She saved your ass, Joel.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. “That ain’t the point.”

Ellie scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah, it kinda is. She did what you would’ve done for her.”

Joel was silent, his gaze dropping to the ground.

“Do you think she would be fine if you were dead?” she pressed on, sighing.

Instead of answer, Joel reached for his bag, unbuckling the strap. He knew exactly where to look, tucked inside one of the side pockets were the pills he always carried for you, just in case.

Ellie, who had been watching with quiet curiosity, tilted her head. “Wait… you carry her pills?”

Joel didn’t look up as he pulled out the small bottle, checking how many were left. “Yeah.” His voice was gruff, like he didn’t think it was something worth mentioning.

Ellie crossed her arms. “Huh.”

Joel finally glanced at her. “What?”

Ellie smirked. “Nothin’. Just—you act all tough, but you’re, like, secretly the softest person ever for her.”

Joel rolled his eyes, muttering, “Keep it to yourself, kid,” as he moved toward you.

You stirred slightly as he knelt beside you, brushing your hair back from your face with a careful hand. The sight of the cut on your cheek made his stomach twist again, but he pushed the feeling down. He had already failed to keep you from getting hurt once, he wouldn’t fail you now.

Gently, he set the bottle of pills down next to you, along with a canteen of water. He knew you still weren’t talking to him, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop taking care of you.

As he sat back, Ellie watched him with something unreadable in her expression. “Still mad, huh?”

Joel sighed, rubbing his thumb over the strap of your bag.

Ellie nodded. “Well… you’re doin’ the right thing, at least.”

Joel wasn’t sure about that. But as he sat there, keeping watch while you slept, he figured it was all he could do for now.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the dull ache in your head. The second was the soft sound of the fire crackling nearby. You blinked against the morning light, your body still heavy with exhaustion.

And then you saw the canteen and the small bottle of pills sitting beside you. You didn’t have to ask who put them there.

Your gaze flickered to Joel, who sat a few feet away, his back turned slightly toward you. He was sharpening his knife, the rhythmic scrape of metal against stone filling the quiet space. Ellie sat across from him, kicking at the dirt with her boot, sneaking glances at you like she was waiting to see what you’d do.

You swallowed, your throat dry. Carefully, you pushed yourself up, wincing as your muscles protested. Your fingers brushed against the bottle of pills, and you hesitated before finally picking it up.

Joel’s voice came before you could say anything. “Drink some water with that.”

It was quiet. Gruff. Like he wasn’t sure where the two of you stood after yesterday.

You pressed your lips together, debating whether to respond, but you didn’t have the energy to fight again. Instead, you obeyed, twisting the cap off and dry-swallowing the pill before chasing it with a sip of water.

Joel didn’t look at you, but you saw his shoulders drop just a little.

Ellie, of course, didn’t stay quiet for long. “Sooo… does this mean you guys are done being mad at each other?

You shot her a look. “Ellie.”

“What? I’m just saying’—”

Joel cut in; his voice flat. “Eat your breakfast.”

Ellie huffed but dropped it, tearing off a piece of jerky with her teeth.

You sighed, rubbing your temples before stealing a glance at Joel. His eyes were still fixed on his knife, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers gripped the handle a little too tightly.

He was waiting. For you to say something. For you to forgive him.

You sighed, pressing your fingers against your temples in a weak attempt to ease the pressure in your skull. It wasn’t working. Nothing ever really worked, except for him.

Joel had a way of grounding you when the pain got bad. He didn’t always have the right words, but he never needed them. He had his own way of taking care of you, of letting you know he was there. And right now, all you wanted was for him to kiss your temples the way he used to.

The way he always did when you were hurting.

But things weren’t the same. You had fought, you had pulled away, and he had let you. And now, even though he was right there, he felt miles away.

You swallowed hard and shut your eyes, trying to push down the disappointment twisting in your chest. It was stupid to want that from him right now. After everything, you shouldn’t need him like that.

Except you did.

Joel shifted, and you felt him move closer, his presence clear even before he spoke. “Did you take the pills?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

There was a long silence, and then, so softly you almost missed it— “Still hurts?”

You hesitated. Your pride screamed at you to say no. To brush him off and keep that last little bit of distance between you. But you were tired.

“Yeah,” you admitted.

Joel exhaled slowly. And then, finally, finally, you felt his fingers brush against your jaw, tilting your head just enough so he could lean in.

His lips pressed against your temple, warm and steady, lingering for just a second longer than they needed to.

You closed your eyes, breathing him in.

“Get ready, we have to go now” he spoke, still closer to your face.

You nodded, your throat tightening at the sudden shift back to reality. The moment was brief, fleeting, just like every soft thing between you and Joel seemed to be.

He pulled away first, his hand dropping from your face like he hadn’t just touched you like you meant something to him. Like he hadn’t just kissed you the way he always used to when you were hurting.

You cleared your throat, pushing yourself up slightly, ignoring the dull ache in your chest "Yeah, okay," you muttered, rubbing at your face as if you could wipe away the lingering warmth of his touch.

Joel stood up, already shifting back into that closed-off version of himself, the one that had been there ever since your fight. The one that didn’t know how to bridge the gap now.

Ellie walked in just as you were attempting to stand, her eyes flicking between the two of you. "You guys look weird," she said, frowning. "Like... extra weird."

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Not now, Ellie."

She just smirked, clearly entertained by whatever tension was hanging in the air. "Whatever you say, lovebirds."

You rolled your eyes, reaching for your bag to distract yourself. Your fingers trembled slightly as you adjusted the straps, but you pretended not to notice. Joel pretended too, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you, watching you too closely like he always did.

The road stretched ahead, cracked and broken, nature reclaiming what once belonged to people. You walked in silence, the weight of the morning still pressing against your chest. Your head ached, but you bit down on the pain, refusing to let it slow you down.

Joel was beside you, his steps steady, his presence solid as ever. But something about him felt distant. He was looking at you, you could feel his gaze flickering toward you every few moments, but it wasn’t the same. Not like before.

Before, his eyes had been filled with something warm, something certain. But now? Now, it felt like he was watching you from behind a wall, like he was making sure you were still there but refusing to let himself feel anything about it.

Ellie, for once, was quiet, kicking a stray rock as she walked ahead, letting the tension settle between the two of you.

Joel’s outburst had been raw, desperate, his voice breaking, his hands gripping yours like he could tether you to him. But now, you saw it for what it was. Fear. Not just of losing you. But of what it meant if he didn’t.

Because Joel didn’t think he deserved to have you. He thought he wasn’t enough, that he never had been. And maybe… maybe he never would be.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. "You don’t have to keep looking at me like that," you muttered, not even turning your head.

Joel tensed beside you. "Like what?"

"Like you're waiting for me to cry to let you in and forgive you shout at me.”

His jaw ticked, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t say anything at all. But then—

"I am not," he said, voice rough. A lie.

You stopped walking. Finally, you turned to face him. "Then what is it?" you asked, your voice softer than you meant for it to be. "Because you had been like this for week, something's been different and yesterday you just broke."

Joel exhaled slowly, looking away, his hands on his hips, his fingers flexing. "Nothing’s different."

You huffed out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Bullshit."

Ellie stopped a few steps ahead, glancing between the two of you like she wanted to intervene but thought better of it.

Joel shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders stiff, his mouth opening—then closing again. He had no answer. No real one, anyway.

Because the truth was, it had never been about you. It had always been about him. About the way he would rather push you away than let himself believe, even for a second, that he was allowed to keep you. That you would want to stay.

That you would choose him. But you were tired of being the only one fighting for this.

So, you just nodded, setting your jaw. "Alright," you murmured, turning back toward the road, ignoring the way your chest ached. "If nothing’s different, then let’s just keep moving."

He Heard the way your voice broke at the end and he just watched as you joined Ellie.

Joel stood there, hands tightening into fists at his sides as he watched you walk away. He’d done this—again.

He had Hurt you.

He told himself it was for the best, that it was the only way to keep you safe. But that excuse was starting to sound as hollow as he felt.

Ellie shot him a glance, her expression unreadable before she turned her attention back to you. She said something low under her breath, nudging your shoulder. You didn’t look back.

And Joel? Joel just stood there, rooted in place, watching the one thing he was most afraid of slip through his fingers.

Because, deep down, he knew. It wasn’t the world that would take you from him. It was him. It was a matter of time.

A few hours later, when cold still found its way deep down your bones. You followed Joel and Ellie into the old market, the air inside thick with dust and the remnants of a world long gone. The faded signs above the shop windows once advertised fruits and vegetables, but now they were nothing more than silent witnesses to the decay around them.

Joel stepped into the shadows first, scanning the area with ease. His hand never strayed far from the rifle slung across his back. He wasn’t just looking for supplies—he was looking for danger, as always, he was ready to find it. You watched him move with that quiet confidence that made him seem invincible, even though you knew better. The way he held himself, as if the weight of the world was constantly on his shoulders.

He disappeared behind a corner, moving into the heart of the market.

Ellie, always ready for adventure, shifted impatiently next to you. “Think it’s safe?” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the market.

You didn’t answer right away, your eyes fixed on the place where Joel had vanished. You could feel the tension coiling between the two of you, that invisible thread that had been growing tighter over the last few hours. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

“He’ll let us know when it’s safe,” you said quietly, not taking your eyes away from him.

Ellie raised an eyebrow, clearly not fully convinced. “Yeah, but what if-”

You cut her off with a shake of your head. “He’s careful. He’ll check everything first.”

She didn’t seem entirely satisfied with the answer, but she stayed quiet. You both waited in silence, the only sounds the distant hum of the wind and the occasional creak of the building settling.

Then, Joel’s voice echoed from ahead. “Clear,” he called out as he reappeared from behind a row of shelves, his gaze briefly flicking over you before he turned to lead the way deeper into the market. His expression was unreadable, but you could sense the wariness beneath it.

His fingers found their way to your shoulders, his touch was brief, just the slightest brush of his fingers against your jacket. A silent reassurance. Or maybe a habit he couldn't break.

You didn’t react, didn’t turn to look at him. Instead, you focused on scanning the shelves, looking for anything useful. Cans, medical supplies.

Ellie was already rummaging through a shelf, muttering under her breath about how people really liked canned beans before the world went to hell. Joel moved ahead, his rifle held tight as he checked the corners, ever cautious.

You bent down, shifting through a pile of toppled boxes, when Joel’s voice came from behind you. “You good?”

It was automatic, the way he asked. Like even when he was keeping his distance, he still couldn’t help but care.

You hesitated, keeping your back to him. “Yeah.”

Another pause. Then a quiet, “Alright.”

But it wasn’t alright.

Not the way his voice sounded. Not the way your chest ached every time he was close but not close enough. And definitely not the way his fingers had lingered just a second too long on your shoulder, as if he didn’t want to let go.

Joel was already moving toward another section of the market, scanning the rows of empty shelves, searching for anything of value. Ellie had drifted further ahead, already rummaging through a crate she found. You stayed close to the wall, the building’s dilapidated structure making you nervous, but you tried not to let the unease show. You knew Joel was doing his best to keep everyone safe, but the weight of everything—of what you had lost, of what you were still fighting for—was starting to catch up with you.

You took a few more steps, carefully picking your way over the cracked floor, when suddenly, the ground beneath you gave way with a sharp, unsettling creak. Before you could react, your foot twisted, the bone snapping like a twig under the weight of the fall.

A sharp, searing pain shot through your ankle as you cried out, unable to stop yourself. The world spun for a moment as you collapsed, hands pressing to the ground to catch yourself, but the pain in your ankle was unbearable. You let out a sharp gasp, fighting the urge to cry out again as you felt something shift beneath the skin, your foot didn’t feel right.

"Shit," you muttered, trying to stay calm, but panic crept in with each breath. Your heart raced as you instinctively tried to pull yourself up, but your foot wouldn’t hold any weight. You couldn’t put it down.

Ellie’s voice broke through the fog of pain, distant but growing closer. “What happened?”

“Sweetheart?” Joel’s voice followed almost immediately. You could hear the panic lacing his tone, the urgency in his steps as he turned back toward you. You felt the weight of his presence before you saw him, his figure coming into view, moving fast.

He saw you on the ground, your face twisted in pain, and his heart dropped. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, kneeling down beside you with a speed that surprised you. His hands were gentle, but you could hear the frustration in his voice as he assessed the damage. "What the hell happened?"

“I—I fell,” you stammered, gritting your teeth as you tried to hold back more of the pain. You couldn’t focus on anything other than your ankle, the way it throbbed, the way your body seemed to give way under the weight of it.

Joel’s face hardened, his jaw clenching as he reached down to carefully touch your injured ankle. “I’m gonna need you to stay still, alright?” His voice was calm, but there was a warning edge to it. He was trying to hold himself together, trying not to let his worry show, but you could see it in his eyes. His hands worked quickly, checking for anything more serious, his brow furrowed with concentration.

“Ellie, get over here,” Joel called out, his voice low and strained.

Ellie rushed back toward you, eyes wide with concern as she knelt beside you. “Shit, are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” you said through clenched teeth, trying to sound stronger than you felt. “It’s just my ankle.”

Joel’s gaze flicked between you and Ellie, his mind clearly racing. “We need to get you out of here, now.” His hand gripped your shoulder for a moment, his fingers digging into the fabric of your jacket as if grounding himself in that brief contact.

Ellie was already standing, her expression determined as she took a deep breath. “I’ll go grab what we need.”

Joel nodded, but his focus never left you. He reached down, his hands carefully lifting you as he positioned himself behind you. "I'm gonna carry you. It's gonna hurt a little, but I need you to hang on."

You bit back a hiss of pain as he adjusted his hold on you, making sure not to jostle your foot too much, but you couldn’t suppress the way your body tensed at the movement. The pain was still sharp, but there was something comforting in the way Joel’s arms secured around you.

“Joel…” you whispered, too exhausted to speak louder.

“I got you,” he muttered back, his voice almost a promise. "Just hang in there."

As he started to move, carrying you carefully toward a safer corner, you could feel your heart rate begin to slow, your pulse steadying slightly in the rhythm of his steps. But the ache in your ankle still lingered, a constant reminder of how fragile everything really was.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to block out the pain, trying to find some semblance of peace in the way Joel had his arms around you. Because no matter how mad you were, no matter how much you weren’t talking to him, Joel Miller was always going to take care of you.

Joel helped you settle into a quiet corner of the abandoned store, easing you down onto an old crate. He crouched in front of you, his hands steady as he pulled your boot off, careful not to jostle your ankle too much.

Ellie hovered for a second, glancing between the two of you, then rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’m gonna go check the other side of the store. Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

You didn’t respond. Joel didn’t either.

Once Ellie disappeared, Joel focused back on your ankle, pulling out a roll of bandages from his pack. He was quiet as he started wrapping, his fingers gentle but firm, pressing just enough to support your injury.

You watched him for a moment, then let out a quiet scoff. “You don’t have to pretend you care about this.”

Joel’s hands stilled. His jaw ticked. Slowly, his eyes lifted to meet yours.

“You think I’m pretending?” His voice was low, rough. Almost offended by the way your voice sounded saying those words.

You looked away, focusing on the peeling paint on the walls. “I don’t know what you’re doing, Joel. One second, you’re mad at me. The next, you’re acting like—like this.” You gestured vaguely at him. “Like it actually matters.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, sitting back on his heels. “It does matter.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Does it? Because you sure as hell didn’t act like it when you were yelling at me.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “I was mad because you almost got yourself killed.”

“I was saving you.” You protested.

“I don’t need saving” He replied, rough as always.

Your eyes snapped back to his, anger flashing in them. “And I don’t need you acting like I don’t have a say in whether or not I protect you. You can’t just decide for me, Joel.”

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. He looked exhausted, like he was carrying too much weight on his shoulders. “You don’t get it,” he muttered. “I can’t—” He stopped himself, shaking his head.

You frowned, your voice softer now. “Can’t what?”

His gaze met yours again, something raw behind it. “I can’t lose you.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The only sound was the faint wind outside, the rustling of leaves.

You swallowed, your throat tight. “You think I want to lose you?”

Joel’s expression softened just a fraction. He sighed, reaching forward, his hand hesitating before resting gently on your knee.

Your breath caught. The fight, the tension, it was still there, but underneath it was something deeper. Something neither of you had the words for just yet.

“You are always so willing to die,” you sobbed, your voice breaking. “Like you’re just waiting for the exact moment. Like none of this matters to you. Like I don’t matter.”

Joel’s breath hitched. His grip on you tightened, grounding you, but he didn’t say anything.

You sniffed, shaking your head. “Do you even know what that does to me? How it makes me feel?”

He swallowed hard, his throat working around the words he wasn’t saying.

“You walk into danger like you’ve already made peace with dying,” you continued, your voice raw. “And maybe you have. Maybe you don’t care what happens to you, but I do, Joel. I care. And you make me watch you throw yourself into danger like it doesn’t matter if you make it out. Like you don’t care if I have to watch you—”

Your voice cut off as a sob wracked through you.

Joel let out a slow breath. Then, finally, he spoke. “I do care,” he said quietly. “More than you know.”

You let out a bitter laugh, swiping at your tears. “You sure don’t act like it.”

Joel’s jaw clenched. His gaze dropped for a moment before he forced himself to look at you. “I’m not waiting to die.”

You scoffed, looking away.

“I’m not” he insisted. His voice was rough, firm. “I just…I don’t know how to do this. How to—” He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face before gripping the back of his neck. “I spent twenty years not giving a damn about whether I made it out of alive. And then you—” He stopped, shaking his head like he didn’t have the words.

You stared at him, waiting. His gaze met yours again, and for the first time in a long time, he looked vulnerable.

"Do you think I would survive without you?" You asked him.

"You're strong." he stated.

"That doesn't matter if the person I love and I protect throws himself to death" you said, tired of the cycle.

“I’m not trying to--” he started, but you cut him off.

“Yes, you are,” you snapped, your voice trembling. “You act like you don’t care what happens to you, but I do, Joel. I do. And I don’t know what’s worse—watching you run into danger without thinking or knowing that if you died, you’d probably think I’d just move on.”

His brows furrowed. “That ain’t—”

You swallowed, your fingers tightening around Joel’s wrist. “Do you love me, Joel?”

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw tensed, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t say it—that maybe, after everything, he’d still hold back.

But then, his hand moved, cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over the cut on your cheek. His touch was careful, reverent, like he was memorizing you.

“I do,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion. “More than I know how to say.”

Your breath stilled.

Joel exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “More than I ever meant to. More than I know what to do with.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in his voice.

“Then stop trying to leave me behind,” you whispered, pleading to him.

He looked at you with such intensity, as if he was trying to see past the pain and fear, trying to understand something that had always eluded him.

“How do you even love someone like me?” Joel’s voice cracked slightly, the question laced with vulnerability, a side of him you rarely saw—something raw and unprotected.

Your heart hurt at the sound of it. You wanted to reach out and erase the doubt from his mind, to tell him that he didn’t have to question it. But instead, you just looked at him, letting the silence linger for a moment, trying to gather the right words to answer him.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm, “I love you because you’re you. Because through all the broken pieces, all the walls you’ve built around yourself, I still see the man who’s been there for me. You’re not perfect, none of us are. But you’re the one I want. You’re the one I need.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if taking in your words, processing them, before meeting your gaze again. His expression softened, the tightness in his jaw easing, but there was still that guarded look in his eyes. He was trying to fight something inside himself, something he had carried for so long.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, almost to himself, but you heard it loud and clear. The doubt in his voice, something he couldn’t shake.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you, forcing him to see the truth in your eyes. “Stop saying that,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “You deserve me. You deserve everything good that’s coming your way. I’ve seen who you are, Joel. You’re not what you think you are.”

“Why do you think I keep pushing you away?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper now, like he was afraid of the answer himself.

You leaned in a little closer, your forehead nearly touching his, and your breath mingled in the quiet space between you. “Because you’re scared of letting yourself love me the way you do,” you said softly. “You’re scared of losing me. But pushing me away won’t make it any easier. It’ll just leave you with a regret you can’t undo.”

He inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling as if your words had struck a chord in him, but it wasn’t enough to break him completely, not yet.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m afraid if I let myself love you fully... if I let myself need you the way I do… I won’t be able to protect you. I can’t live with that.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek as you reached up to wipe it away, the tenderness in his voice catching you off guard. You could feel the pain in his words, the depth of his fear, and it only made you love him more.

Joel’s hand gently moved to your ankle, and despite everything that had just been said, the tenderness in his touch wasn’t lost on you. His rough fingers brushed against your skin as he carefully positioned your leg. You winced slightly at the discomfort, but it wasn’t the pain from your ankle that caught your attention—it was the way his eyes never left you, the quiet care he was showing in that moment.

“Hold still,” he murmured, his voice low, trying to keep his own emotions in check. You could tell he was trying to be calm for you, even though you knew he was anything but calm inside.

Joel’s fingers moved gently over your ankle, wrapping the bandage with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times. His touch was steady, and for once, it was soft, more like the careful tenderness of someone who didn’t want to hurt you, rather than the harshness that often came with survival.

You winced slightly when the bandage tightened, but he immediately eased his grip, looking at you with concern.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren’t sure why, but his care made you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to.

Once your ankle was properly secured, Joel leaned back, looking at you for a moment, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t quite place in them. He didn’t speak for a while, just stared at you like he was trying to decide something in his mind.

Joel’s gaze went to your ankle for a moment, then, unexpectedly, he leaned forward, his lips brushing the soft skin of your bandaged ankle. It was a gesture so tender, so unexpected, that you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Don’t laugh,” he murmured, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his voice remained quiet, almost apologetic. “I’m just trying to make it better.”

You shook your head, still chuckling lightly, the sound feeling strange after everything that had happened. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Joel,” you said, meeting his eyes with a smile. “It’s just... never thought you’d be kissing my ankle better.”

Joel’s smirk softened into something more tender, and for a moment, there was nothing between you but the quiet understanding. His eyes dropped back to your ankle for a brief second before lifting to meet yours once more, his expression serious. Without another word, he moved closer, his hand reaching to cup your face gently, his thumb brushing over your skin with the same tenderness he had shown when tending to your injury. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, his lips just a breath away.

And then, without hesitation, he kissed you, soft, lingering, as if it was a promise, as if it was everything, he hadn’t been able to say before. You leaned into it, letting the kiss speak for you both, the tension between you finally easing, at least for this moment.

“Oh, come on! Seriously?” Ellie’s voice cut through the moment like a knife.

You and Joel broke apart instantly, your breath still tangled in his, as you turned to see Ellie standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, a smirk pulling at her lips.

Joel cleared his throat and sat back slightly, rubbing a hand over his beard like that would somehow erase what she’d just walked in on.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “I leave you two alone for five minutes, and you’re already making out. Unbelievable.”

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatic tone. “Ellie—”

“No, no,” she interrupted, waving a hand. “I mean, it’s kinda sweet, but gross.”

Joel shot her a look, his voice flat. “Ellie.”

“What?” She shrugged, grinning. “Just saying. But, uh—maybe save the romance for later, lovebirds? We kinda got shit to do.”

Joel exhaled sharply, shaking his head, but when he glanced at you again, you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“C’mon,” he muttered, standing up and offering you a hand. “We should get movin’.”

You took his hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. As you stood, Ellie shot you both a smug look before turning on her heel.

As she walked away, you heard her mutter under her breath, “God, I hope I never have to see that again.”

As soon as you put weight on your injured ankle, a sharp pain shot up your leg, making you wince. You bit down on a curse, trying to tough it out, but Joel noticed immediately.

“Joel, it’s fine, I can walk,” you protested, but you could see the look in his eyes, the one that said, no argument.

“Not gonna argue with me on this one. Up you go.” Before you could protest, he crouched slightly in front of you. “Get on.” He waited for you to settle onto his back, and you reluctantly complied, knowing it would be easier than walking on your own.

You blinked at him. “Joel, I can—”

He shot you a look over his shoulder. “I'm not asking...”

Ellie snorted. “Just get on, lovebird.”

You sighed, but there was no real fight left in you. Carefully, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he hooked his arms under your legs and lifted you effortlessly.

“Easy, old man,” you teased, resting your chin on his shoulder.

Joel huffed, adjusting his grip. “Call me that again, and I’m dropping you.”

You laughed softly, “Thanks,” you muttered after a moment, your face buried in his jacket, still feeling the warmth of his body. The way he carried you felt like a sense of safety you hadn’t realized you needed until now.

You sighed against him, letting yourself relax just a little as Joel carried you forward with steady steps. Without thinking, you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck, just above the collar of his jacket.

Joel stiffened for half a second, his grip on your legs tightening before he exhaled slowly. “You trying to distract me?” His voice was lower now, rougher.

A smirk played on your lips. “Is it working?”

He huffed, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

You laughed, placing another kiss on the same spot, “I love you, Joel.”

His steps faltered for just a moment, barely noticeable, but you felt it. His grip on you tightened, his fingers pressing into your legs like he needed to ground himself.

He didn’t answer right away, just kept walking, his jaw tight. For a second, you thought maybe he wouldn’t say anything at all.

But then, in that quiet, gruff voice of his, he murmured, “I love you too, darling. Always”.

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hazelfoureyes · 1 year ago

Text

The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (part 4)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

7k words of a fever dream, happy Sunday, sinners ✨💦 I really hope you like it 🥺💖

You were back, unexpectedly but welcomed nonetheless. But now Alastor finds himself in a new kind of hell. There was, unfortunately for him, no killing what he felt when he looked at you.

{Warnings/Promises: Smut, Ace spectrum Alastor x FemReader, Alastor has feelings, creampie is the best nighttime snack, Angel is always the good guy, cervix punishment, mating press, Alastor demon form, Antlers go brrrr, drinking to forget, drowning (in cum)((and emotions)), discussions of murder, Alastor gets horny for discussions of murder, kinda breed kink if you squint, I saw a fan image of a hazbin hotel pool and it’s been stuck in my head for days.}

MINORS DNI (ah! Eh! I — stop. I see you. You know I see you, right? Get outta here! 🚨)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

You were quick to stifle your smile, seeing Alastor standing in front of you with his hand outstretched. Why were you smiling? You were dead. Brutally so. And, You were in hell. But the corners of your mouth kept tugging upward at the sight of the stupid fucking deer demon before you. His own wild smile, eyes half lidded as he looked at you like he knew you.

You took his hand, needing the help standing. He fingers slipped from your palm and came to rub the velvet skin of your—- ears? You smacked his hand away, taking a step back.

The look he gave you, confusion? You weren’t sure, his head cocked to the side, hand lingering a beat longer in the air. He took a step toward you and you took one back.

Alastor laughed, “Quite the welcome, dear.”

You narrowed your eyes, did he know? Did he know you dreamt of him so many nights? That you struggled daily to not see his face behind your eyelids, not hear his lilting voice in your ear?

“Long time no see, Alastor.” You didn’t mean to sound quite so bored when you said it, you weren’t really sure at all what was going on in your head. You didn’t expect to see him so soon, literally immediately upon your death. You didn’t have time to recalibrate the mixed up feelings you had created for yourself over this stranger.

You pined for months to see him again, trying so hard to push the memory of him as deep as you could. So deep, in fact, you found yourself tortured at night with fantasies of his company. Even during the day, your life was altered around him. You couldn’t listen to the radio, the odd static and reverb just forcing him back into your consciousness. You took long forest walks, thinking about hunters and deer. You wore that fucking robe for an embarrassingly long time, remembering being in another world entirely.

Alastor’s face fell, throat closing slightly as he thought he realized what was happening. You didn’t remember the time you’d spent with him. He had been enjoying lazy nights in his room and pleasurable times in the woods with a ghost. He took a step closer, maybe if he— maybe your body would remember? If you just smelled his bed, perhaps you’d stop acting so cold. If he could awaken the impressions he was sure he left on your soul, he could pick up where he left off. A comfortable companion. Kind eyes that only saw him. His name, sweet and low tumbling from your lips.

You hit the wall with your back, making distance from him. He hadn’t hurt you, but you couldn’t be sure what would happen now. Fantasies are no indication of a person’s real self. Your dream romps were just that— dreams. Fiction your mind produced to fill the gap in your life he somehow created in your short time together. Imagination fleshing out this unknown demon you couldn’t stop thinking about.

His hand fell. There was a second his smile dropped, brows knitted. It came and it went, “Well! I best go get Charlie. She is the official welcome committee of the Hazbin Hotel, after all. Follow me.” The door swung open, his long arm gesturing.

Charlie pulled you into a hug, bouncing between “Welcome back!” And “I am so, so sorry you died!” She held your hands in hers, “The hotel has gone through a lot since you left! I have so much to show you. While Alastor has your room b…” her voice carried on, but your mind stayed put. She did jazz hands at every sconce and door frame on the way to the lobby.

You had expected it, your death. You figured there was a 50/50 chance you didn’t make it out of that forest. But that didn’t make this moment any less surreal. You looked down at your body, yours but new. Your hands came to your head, fingers climbing up your skull until you found them. Two soft, tulip petal shaped ears. Were you going to be sick? The room began to spin. Charlie’s voice underwater. Was some detective going to knock on your parent’s door? Carrying a folder with your photo and bad news? Your eyes clenched at the image, your heart ballooning in your chest.

“Maybe she needs to take a rest,” his voice cut through the waters of your confusion, a spear straight to your psyche. His hand slipped up your arm, resting on your back. You shook your head, eyes blinking wildly.

“It’s fine. Please, Charlie, continue your tour.” You took an exaggerated step to your left, out from under his touch. You thought you heard him sigh. Why was he being so kind? The last time you spoke you were staring daggers at him while he carried on about doing exactly what he had promised.

Charlie excitedly presented the lobby to you, the bar, the library. Alastor walked a few feet behind you both, quiet, his shadow dancing down the hallway in front of you. It’s mouth flipping from grin to grimace and back as it watched you nod along to every detail Charlie felt you should know.

The newest addition to the hotel since you left, a large indoor pool on the second to top floor. You lingered there, watching the water reflect pink and red light from the floor to ceiling windows overlooking Pentagram City.

“Almost done! To the left is Dad’s studio. He comes and goes. Ya know, parent stuff.”

You tried to mask your concern for whatever damaged parent-child relationship she was referencing.

“And to the right is Alastor’s radio station.”

You glanced to the demon, standing near the wall, inspecting his nails. “I didn’t know he had a radio station. I just assumed-,” You shrugged, “He just sounded like that.”

Alastor felt his bottom lid of his left eye twitch involuntarily. Why were you speaking like he wasn’t there?

He bit his tongue, literally. He needed time to think, to plan how to handle this situation. Your death was early and therefore unexpected for him, too. Not nearly as surprising, though, as your loss of memory of him.

He knew though, maybe this was for the best. If you were here, if he could see you around the hotel, perhaps that desire to have you near would die down. His shadow shifted behind him before sinking into the floor. Yes, exactly. This was a good thing. His eyes glanced to you, to your little doe features, two ears and a tiny fluff of a tail. His jaw tightened, had you done it on purpose? What did it mean?

”Would you like to see it?” He didn’t recognize his own voice, because he hadn’t realized he was going to say it until it was done.

Yes. “No thank you.” You wanted to run face first into the wall. It felt like your ribs were twisting off your spine. One side lurched up—- touch him. He wants you, he felt so good. Get him alone. The other side pulling down—- fuck him. He owns you, he’s a demon. Stay away from him.

His ears turned back and down, folding into his skull. You tried to keep your face neutral as you stared back at him, breathing teetering on panting. Every time you looked at him you were in danger of spilling your guts.

“Well!” Charlie slid into the tense air between you two, nervous chuckles, “That makes sense! Because Al’s station is super off limits. So. Uhh where was I going with this.” She looked around, “Is the room ready, Al?”

He nodded, leading you both to the elevator and a few floors down.

“This floor is for our more precious residents. Not that every soul isn’t precious! But ya knooow,” she opened your door, “You’ve got Angel, Husk, Niffty, sometimes Cherri Bomb, and Alastor as neighbors!”

Yippee. You get to lie awake knowing the object of your fucked desire is just past an easily smashed wall.

There was a moment where you all three looked at each other. Charlie becoming more and more fidgety as the seconds ticked on.

“Sooo, We should let her rest, like you said, right Alastor?” Charlie began a dramatic walk to the bedroom door, taking big steps with high knees.

You needed to do this and let it be. “Actually, may I have a moment, Alastor?”

Always, Yes. “I suppose I have the time, my dear.” He twirled his microphone stand before settling it behind his back. Charlie wanted to ask you if you were sure, but the tension was rising again. She backed out of the room, pulling the door closed as she went.

Alone. Again. There was a feeling in the air, like you would either fuck or fight. Was it an animal thing? Or was it always there?

“I never got to thank you.”

His stomach turned, he couldn’t bear this again. Please, stop thanking him. Smile straining, struggling to keep it together, he nodded, “Whatever for?”

You had a strange feeling, a familiarity to the conversation. Ah, that was right. Would this end the same way as your dream? With you on your back? “You were — true to your word.” You fiddled with the comforter of the bed, avoiding looking at him. “You were gentle and you got me home safe and sound. I didn’t thank you. I was just so-,”

“Full of misplaced rage?” His head tilted to the left, eyebrows high.

“Just rage, would have been fine. It was an unfair situation that you helped get me out of.”

Alastor watched your face, only sadness to be found. Not a sight he took any pleasure in. “Well you should truly thank Angel Dust. He is the one who brought me to you, desperate to help you. Even offered me his soul! Not that it’s his to give.”

No one had told you. “Oh,” genuine surprise, “Thank you for that. Yeah, I have to thank him. I’d probably still be in Valentino’s—,” the light of the lamp beside the bed flickered, “studio.”

Looking at you, Alastor couldn’t decipher the feeling in his chest. Relief, sure. Shock, yes. But behind that, a strange tugging beneath his sternum. A pain, vague and nebulous floating over his chest. Why did you come back so soon? Why did you die so early? He wanted to ask you so many things, but if you didn’t retain any memory of your time with him, he doubted he would like the answers.

“I’m going to finish my mental breakdown now, thanks for the tour and uh, the information.” Scratching awkwardly at your arm, you went and opened the door. He paused a moment before moving. “I would like to see your radio station, sometime. If you’d want to show me.” He nodded and left. The room felt colder now, deader.

Your night went exactly how you anticipated, lying awake in the plush red blankets of your new home staring at the ceiling. You wondered if you slept, if you’d see him again. Thoughts of the overworld, family, connections. Little fits of rest came but nothing more than 30 minutes here and there.

Alastor paced his room until dawn, an animal in an unlocked cage. When you had appeared, dead and truly in hell, he thought you’d come to see him. He was embarrassed to even think it now, he had believed you wanted to be with him in earnest. As comfortable with his company as he was yours. He cradled his head, again he felt himself succumbing to the enjoyment of others. He had accepted it with you, more so than the rest, and now it was a weapon in your hands. He felt like an idiot. And he hated it. What a fool, to think you’d died to get home to him. A growl rising in his chest. Home. He desperately wanted to see Rosie, to vent the situation and find clarity. But the idea of leaving you alone in the hotel irked him. He couldn’t put his finger on why. Maybe you wouldn’t be here when he returned. He could always summon you with your connection to him, but he wanted you to be there, with him, of your own volition or he didn’t want it at all.

If you’d forgotten entirely, he had two courses of action. To start over, or to let it die.

He looked to his bed, remembering you lying there. Sleeping, peaceful, content. Safe. Alastor turned to the wall, knowing you lied just beyond the wallpaper and sheet rock in your own deathbed, alone. The out of place physical need for you was something he struggled with, but whatever feeling this was — far worse. You were his, yet he couldn’t have you. Couldn’t possess you in the ways he’d grown accustomed to the past year. Starting over felt tedious. But this wasn’t a feeling that would die, he knew that. He could feel that by how deep the roots of his despair sunk into his soul when you looked at him like a stranger.

He didn’t rest that night, and neither did you.

Maybe it was the deal, the connection between you and him, but no matter where you were in the hotel you could feel him. A sixth sense, his presence always on your radar. A small part of your brain power was always on him, focused on the idea of Alastor. You wandered the halls until the others woke, feeling that little string between the two of you. Taut, strong.

When you found Angel that first morning back, you took a seat beside him in the lobby.

“Alastor told me you are why I got help. From Valentino.” You tried your best to maintain eye contact, not getting distracted by his arms.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart. I kinda did it for myself, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep again if I just let it happen. I’m a freak but I ain’t sick in the head like Val.” He locked his phone, turning to you, “So do you always start passin’ out mid-convo or does Charlie’s voice just do something to ya?”

You groaned, “Did she tell you that?”

“Well she panic-sang it, real worried about you. Did you get settled in yesterday?”

“I didn’t sleep, now that you mention it.” Angel laughed, taking you by surprise, “What?”

“Oh I’m sure you didn’t. Not with your co-star next door.” He winked, “I’m sure you’re happy to be here in the flesh.”

“Ugh I forgot about that. Did -,”

“Everyone see it? Yeah you’re a minor celebrity.” You took a throw pillow and screamed into it while he spoke, “But hey! At least you don’t gotta worry about crazy fans. Smiles will keep ‘em at bay.”

“Why would he do anything for me?” Pillow still over your face, you groaned, “I’m just a soul on his roster.”

“Ha I don’t think he treats just any soul the way he’s been treatin’ you. I think Husk would tell me.” Angel kicked his feet, “What a mental image! Does he have pubes? I feel like he does but they’re like, sharp? Like hostile somehow?”

Pillow down, “Ew, Angel! Hostile? How the fuck would I know?”

Angel stopped, wide eyed, “Oh is it a secret? Is that part of the deal?” A sinister giggle, “You can tell ole’ Angel Dust. We’re pals, remember? You technically owe me.” His many fingers poked at your sides, goading you.

You scrunched up your nose, swatting at his hands, “Angel, what are you talking about?”

His smile fell, now side eyeing you, he opened his mouth to ask you to stop playing coy when he heard you all those nights in Alastor’s room when Charlie burst into the lobby.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t tell you about the redemption activities!” She tossed papers onto the coffee table, “Alright, plan Stairway to Heaven!”

Angel sat back, bored the juicy gossip had to wait, your attention fully occupied by Charlie’s sketches.

Alastor watched you from the second floor balcony. Over the next few days he would always be watching, either from the shadows or out in the open. Looking at you, that carnal hunger was gone. He felt no overpowering desire to be surrounded by you. But, now and then, you’d make a small noise or sigh and he would feel a little twitch. A muscle memory reaction to you

Where the need to touch you had faded, he instead found an insatiable hunger to be near you. He had thought it would be better, you at the hotel. But it had become worse. The further you were, the more undone he felt. It baffled him. So, he stayed near. You were almost always within earshot or eye sight. If not, he at least knew where you were. He could focus on the hotel and his plans for Charlie only then.

You never looked at him, it was obviously on purpose. Even when he would take a seat beside you or across from you, you’d manage to glance everywhere but directly at Alastor. By the fourth day, he felt like he was going to snap. It was beginning to feel disrespectful.

That fourth night when you again couldn’t sleep, you found yourself at the edge of the pool. Did people in hell swim? You’d been there for nearly two hours and not a single sinner appeared. It was well past midnight, though.

The entire room was tinged pink, shadows a pretty red. The water itself looked like a sea of rose quartz. You didn’t have a bathing suit. You didn’t have anything now that you thought about it. Nevertheless, you slipped into the water and let yourself float from the edge.

What a familiar feeling, floating. The ceiling shimmered with the water’s ever-moving reflection. Mind reeling back to the green glow casting your shadow on the ceiling of Valentino’s studio. You closed your eyes, you were always sinking it seemed. Sinking out of consciousness, into a another dream, out of the woods and into the bedroom of your captivator. The only times you felt weightless— ah, right. Body held up by shadows, cameras rolling. Under him, beneath the stars, sleeping form disconnected from your mind. It was always with him. You wondered for a second if you could sleep like this. What would happen if you drowned. Could you drown?

The carpet soaked with every step you took, your body sopping wet, clothes heavy with pool water. You were dragging your bare feet to the elevator when you saw a light coming from the ajar door to Alastor’s radio studio.

He was looking over papers, monocle resting on his cheek. Alastor turned to you, taking note of your shoes in your hand and wet hair. Your ears were heavy with water, fine fur drooping with the weight. “You look like a drowned rat, my doe.”

“Don’t call me that,” you wiped your hair from your face, “I can’t sleep.”

You never struggled to sleep in his bed. “What did you do when you couldn’t sleep on earth?”

Your life already felt far in the rearview, either the effects of sleep exhaustion or your time in the underworld, “I slept… really well. Not a sleepless night I can remember.”

Alastor only hummed a response. Because all of your sleepless nights were here, with him.

“Why are you working?”

“Why are you swimming?”

“I just told you.” Your brows knitted, was this a conversation or a riddle.

Ever present smile beamed back at you, “Well then take a guess!”

You stared at him, sitting at his curved desk with all his switches and buttons. Papers here and there. Just smiling at you. “Cool, thanks for the waste of time.” You turned to leave when you heard a low sound coming from his chest.

“Why do you speak to me like that? Avoid me?” He stood, hair sharp and standing at attention, “What have I done to you to deserve your disgust?”

“Nothing! That’s-,” the problem, “I’m just tired. I don’t feel right, like I misplaced something. There’s a nagging feeling, maybe something I forgot in the overworld.”

Alastor closed the gap between you two, “I can assure you everything you need is here.”

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah. Of course.” Turning to leave, his clawed hand reached for your wrist. Pulling you back, your wet clothes were now soaking into his suit.

His free hand took your chin and made you look up at him. Alastor’s red and pink eyes stared into yours, grin wider than you remembered seeing it before. You fixed your gaze on the desk behind him. “Look at me.” His voice cracked with a static interference. Your eyes finally came to his, your hand now holding his wrist just below your chin. “Don’t you dare look away.” He saw it, a flash of recognition flit across your now wide eyes. There was a pulse of electricity to your core, your body remembering his voice, those words, like an activation phrase. How did he know? Your thighs rubbed together, feet barely touching the ground as he held you close.

When his lips crashed into yours, you melted for a moment. Your body relaxed into him, a small whine slipping from your mouth to his. But then something in you snapped back, remembering he was a stranger holding your leash. You pulled his hand from your face with ease as your feet came back to the ground. Tugging your wrist free, you opened your mouth to yell at him, nothing but heavy breathing came out. Again, he reduced you to speechlessness. You glanced at his face before turning; he looked wounded.

You thought you heard his shoes shuffling along the carpet as you rushed into the elevator. A bang, a thrash, echoing down the elevator shaft as you descended to your floor.

Did he think because you acquiesced to sex before, somewhat under the pressure of a worse fate, he could just kiss you anytime he wanted? Did he see you as a toy?

Maybe being a toy would be nice. Maybe a good fuck would let you finally sleep. He did hit all the right places, those shadowy appendages never letting a single need go ignored…

You slammed your door shut, angrily peeling off your clothes. No, you weren’t a possession. You weren’t an object to be taken off the shelf at his convenience. No matter how much your body ached for his clawed hands and thin waist, you wouldn’t lower yourself to being under him. Not metaphorically, therefore not physically. You curled onto your bed, naked, body humming for him. Sleep came in pieces, fractured moments of rest.

“You look like shit.” Angel greeted you when the sun finally rose and everyone mulled around the hotel. You waited until you were sure the lobby bar wouldn’t be empty, you didn’t want to run into him alone.

“How do you fucking sleep in this place? All night just screams and moans from the city.” You rested your cheek on the bar, “Husk, something with orange juice that’ll make me forget where I am, please.”

“The moans are my favorite. Speaking of moanin’ in the night-,” Angel was cut off.

“Get used to it. You sold your soul to a psychotic dick. Welcome to the club,” Husk’s tone was harsh, tilting into sardonic as he slid your drink to you.

With a huff, you sat up, “Don’t compare us. You sold your soul. I—,” you searched with your hands for the word, “was guilty of having a colossal cunt of an aunt.” A deep sip of your drink, “Fuck, he only got my soul because he made a deal with a different demon for it. Soul traded in like a used car. I’m the Kia Sorento of hell.”

Husk grumbled, “Yeah well, either way. Might as well get comfortable. We’re here for the long haul.”

Angel put a hand out to shut up Husk, scooting his stool closer to you, “So like— did Mister Wrong-Kinda-Horny have you killed?” His eyes went to your ears and back, “Is that why ya came back a little lady deer? Some kinda sex thing?”

You downed your drink and gestured to Husk to refill your glass, speaking to Angel without looking at him, “Why would he do that?

He grabbed your bar stool and swivelled you to face him, leaning in even closer, “Well, ya know…” his eyebrows raised up and down, ready to finally get the dirty details, “because ya-,”

“My little doe, just who I was looking for.” His sudden appearance startled all three of you. He was ready now, to pin down your fate. Were you going to stay at the hotel permanently or not? With his supervision or without?

“Why does everyone keep interruptin’ me?!” Angel slammed his hand on the bar.

On impulse, your own hand formed a first, “Stop calling me that!”

Alastor laughed, unhinged, a finger wiping a tear from his eye. Still, the attitude with which you spoke to him surprised him, “Oh? Why should I? You are a doe,” his microphone gestured to your head, “And your soul belongs to me. If I remember correctly, so does your body.” His eyes darkened, back bent as he came to your eye level, “But I always have video evidence if you’re unsure of the details.”

You lifted your glass and cocked your arm back to throw it but stopped. Alastor was grinning, something in his stare egging you on. He was loving this. Finally you were paying some attention to him. You were looking right at him.

Setting the glass back down, you left your stool and slipped past him, “Lucky for you, radio demon. It’s all you have anymore.” You had decided you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying his name.

Husk sunk beneath the bar, Alastor’s antlers expanding as his eyes became overtaken with black. Angel scrambled over the counter to join the cowering bartender. Alastor whipped around, spine cracking and stretching. You were in the elevator for another quick escape when you turned and saw him gaining on you, his mouth nearly unhinged, teeth sharp and numerous. His body contorted to get his truly demonic face in your eye line, back bending in half to drop his head down, “What did you say?” The air around him seemed to bend and shake, the hiss of a misaligned radio station biting at your skin.

Your finger was shaking as you pressed the ‘close door’ button repeatedly, wetting your lips you found your foothold in anger again, “Fuck you.”

You didn’t recognize the sounds you heard just past the hollow elevator doors. Something between a screech and a wail. Not a sound you’d heard any deer make before.

Shakey knees and legs melting to jelly barely carried you to your room. You collapsed against the door as soon as you entered, locking it. Not that it mattered, you knew that.

A knock shook the wood and made you yelp.

“It’s me!” You recognized Angel’s voice, “Let me in.”

He fell into your room, hair a mess and eyes wide, “I don’t know where he went but he left the hotel. Jesus Christ you have balls of steel.” He fixed his hair, adjusting his chest fluff, “Or are a total idiot.” He saw the tears swelling in your eyes, gears shifting immediately, “Oh shit, sorry. You okay?”

You shook your head no and crumbled to the floor, “I haven’t fucking slept more than three hours a night in like, five fucking days. I’m going crazy.”

“I don’t know why ya’ll are fightin’ but can’t Alastor help you out? Ya’ll are close, maybe a night in his bed will set you straight.”

Your tears streamed down your face, “Angel! What are you talking about?! You keep saying shit like we’re friends. The closest I’ve been to him was in my fucking wet dreams!” You curled into the fetal position on the carpet, exhausted, scared, confused. You’d never seen something as skin-crawling as his full demonic form. But a part of you was mesmerised by the transformation. A sick part of you, you decided.

Angel lied down beside you, facing you, eyes blinking. One of his hands wiped at your tears, “What exactly happened after you went home?”

You sniffled, “I couldn’t get him out of my head. I wore your robe. It smelled like you.”

He laughed, “I wondered where that thing went.”

“I started having these dreams, just—- really fucked dreams of him.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed, “fucked how?”

Your wanted to hide your face but didn’t have the energy to move your arms, “He fucked me in the woods like his life depended on it. Best sex of my life, in my own imagination. Naturally.”

Angel sat up, he didn’t know what to ask first, “best sex?? Sorry- no. Fuck, uh, you had dreams about fucking the Radio Demon? You two never… met up?”

You rolled onto your back, shaking your head, “If he could have visited me, he never did. Trust me, I looked for any sign.”

“Uh huuuuh.” Angel nodded, “Well. His extra weird attitude makes more sense. He’s been super creepy, always just popping’ outta shadows and shit. More than usual.”

Angel looked over you, crying softly on the floor. He considered telling you, but if Alastor hadn’t he figured it was best he stay out of it. Lest he be the one fleeing into elevators.

“Have ya considered actually fucking him?” Angel couldn’t believe he was recommending anyone fuck Alastor, but it seemed like maybe it’d actually do you good.

“Why would I do that?”

Angel looked annoyed, “Because you wanna fuck him?! Get it out of our system?”

“Yes and I sometimes wonder what it would be like to drive into oncoming traffic. We all have the call of the void. He—,” you thought about the kiss, “I feel like it’d just make it worse. I’d want more.”

Angel showed you his phone, “He’s apparently eating sinners in the doom district, so, it’s your call. But maybe a good bang would get you both to chill out.” He scrolled, “Fucking hell. The best sex, of your life? Have you not had much sex or-?”

You crawled up to your bed and plopped your now heavy body down, “Angel.”

“Do you have some weird kink? Is it just really big?”

“Angel!”

“Does he go full demon and his peni-,”

“ANGEL.”

He spun his head around to look at you, “I wanna respect your boundaries but I will actually die again if you don’t explain this shit to me.”

Settling back, you groaned, “I’ve never felt so needed before. He held onto me like he couldn’t breath unless I was under him. But you see him, you’ve been here. Does that sound like him?”

Angel sat beside you, “Honestly didn’t know he knew what sex was until you came here so” he leaned back, two arms holding him up, “You guys are pretty fucked up.” You nodded. “What did he say, when you told him about the dreams?”

“Didn’t really come up.” You rolled your eyes.

He patted your thigh, “Got it. You’re gonna owe me like, a metric shit ton of drugs.” Angel pushed off the bed, waving as he left, “I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

You sat up, staring curiously at where he had just been. Tomorrow? It was only 9am

Angel spent several hours in the lobby, pretending to read and socialize with residents. He jumped from the chaise lounge as soon as he saw Alastor walking into the hotel, “Hey uh, I know you know I think you’re a freaky fuck, but I wanna just say it sucks real bad and I’m sorry.” Alastor didn’t reply or even stop walking, Angel having to jog to keep pace.

“I mean, if my fuck buddy thought our bumpin’ uglies was all just dreams I’d be super fuckin’ bummed too.” Alastor became so still so quickly that Angel nearly fell over trying to stop his momentum. He waved his hand in front of Alastor’s face to make sure he was still conscious, “uhh anyone home in there?”

Alastor’s eyes flicked to dials, residents looking up warily as the power flickered and the space seemed to distort around them, “Explain, quickly.”

“She told me this mornin’! She thinks all those nights you were bangin’ her brains out — which, from one porn star to another, sounded top notch from my room — we’re just horny dreams. She’s all fucked in the head about it.”

Alastor melted into his shadow and slinked down the hall and up the walls, leaving Angel behind, “You all owe me!”

You heard footsteps suddenly advancing on you down the hall. Spinning around, your nose nearly brushed against his, Alastor’s face already down to your level.

He leaned in to you, his mouth hitting against your cheek, “I need to speak to you in my room, dear.” His voice was clearly not asking you.

Your blood ran cold, goosebumps dancing down your neck and arms. “Why would-,”

“Now.” His arms wrapped around your waist, you pushed him away and turned to walk off but stopped. You weren’t in the hallway anymore. A bedroom. With a haughty laugh you turned to spit venom at him for such a dirty trick.

As if expecting it, he cut you off, “They weren’t dreams, my doe. It was astral projection.” He took you by the shoulders and pointed your entire body at the forest scene melting into his room. Had it always been there? You couldn’t remember seeing it before, when you arrived in hell. Just him and his smile.

You felt the blush rise from your toes to your ear tips. Both hands came to your face, desperate to hide your existence from the situation.

You remembered that grassy clearing, the tree line. Peaking in and up, you saw the starry sky you spent so many nights moaning into.

“Why-,” your hands balled into fists, “didn’t you tell me?!” You turned to him, face red. You wanted to shove him, to hit him, but your mother taught you better than to lay hands on someone first. You finished fights, not started them.

Alastor smiled down at you, like he always did, “I thought you had no memory of our-,”

You cut off him off at the head, “visits.”

He laughed, “spirited visits.” Was that a pun? You groaned.

“I, I thought it was just make believe.” The gentle touches, the sweet names whispered into your skin, the way you could taste him even after you woke. The blush burned your cheeks.

Now that you knew, now that your eyes fell on him once again with recognition, he felt you’d actually answer him, “How did you die?”

The question took you by surprise, You thought it was obvious, “I tried to kill a hunter in the woods. Well, I did kill him. But he killed me, too.”

A genuine grin spread across his lips, a cackle, “You killed a man?!” You shouldn’t have been so proud, but he looked so impressed, “Tell me every detail. Who was he to you?” Alastor’s hands came to your arms. You remembered last night, pulse quickening, and walked to his bed. You took a seat on the end, sinking softly into the plush blankets. Your hand ran over the fabric.

“My employee’s father.” The fabric was soft, the threads tiny and tight.

Alastor took a seat beside you, legs crossed, “Oh? And why him?”

A hum, “He was a bad man.”

His hand picked up yours, bringing it to his mouth. There was that loss of blood to his brain, something you effortlessly did to him. “Who says?” His own heart picking up pace. You killed. Was it egotistical to think you inspired such a thing? Did you kill for him?

You watched your fingers tremble under his lips, “What?”

“Who says he was bad?”

Your eyes searched the room for an answer, “I think anyone would agree with me.”

His smile reached his eyes, “So you decided? He probably thought he was quite alright.” He turned your wrist over, mouth pressing to your pulse point. “Did you plan it?” Your scent was familiar but different now. Skin still just as soft. He felt himself salivate. Your spell just as strong in death.

A gulp, all of those walls you struggled to keep standing turned to dust against his smirk. A stranger, a lover. Effortlessly your body shifted into a new gear under his touch. “Yeah, for a week. I waited until I knew he was going to be there. Walked the paths, bought a knife.”

“A knife,” he practically purred, “A favorite. No gun?” He pulled your arm toward him, bringing your whole body into his.

“I wanted something more… personal.”

Alastor buckled slightly, cock jumping in his lap. “You were made to be my undoing. I am sure of it. A cruel joke from heaven to distract me.” His mouth found your neck next, little nips before he chose a place and latched, sucking a bruise easily seen by others.

“This is a really fucked conversation, Alastor.” Your body softened, a small sigh coming before you could consider being embarrassed.

“For a ‘fucked’ situation, my dear.” His nose traced along your jaw. “But one you’ll find I quite enjoy.” He placed your hand on his lap. Did he see the face you made? The stupid grin? Your hand squeezed lightly on the length you felt tenting his pants, earning a moan into your cheek. Real. He was real. In your hands, now. No dreams or projection. No fantasies. No little pink toy. “Bear with me, just a little more. You’ll find my … proclivity for such topics quite important for these kinds activities.”

“You’re sick.” You turned, nose to nose smiling still.

He hummed, his own smile spreading, “desperately so.” Your hand gently traced the shape of him through his pants, “Why did you kill him? As opposed to all the other bad men?”

A question you didn’t feel you could answer, “This topic is having the opposite effect on me…” you squeezed him again.

“Fair enough,” he pushed you back onto the bed, leg going over your body to straddle you, “Then tell me how you felt? A compromise.”

How did you feel? When you killed him? “I felt strong.” He repositioned himself between your legs, “I wasn’t scared. I knew I’d succeed or-,”

“Or?” His breathing now a barely strained pant. Say it. Say it and he’ll let himself go completely.

You focused on the canopy of his bed, a red wine color much like his own coat. “Or I’d end up here, with you.” His head fell, forehead resting on your stomach. You looked down to see his antlers larger than before, no longer cute little prongs. “Alastor?”

He wasn’t an idiot.

Maybe a little roundabout, but you chose him.

Red dribbled from his chin, mind going foggy as eyes went black. His hands rid you of your clothes with delicate cuts, your body lurched up the bed by wide palms.

You chose to come back.

Your hands came down to undo his pants and belt, seeing he probably couldn’t manage himself. As soon as he was free of his clothes, he was rutting into your thigh. “Alastor”, you took his face in both hands, dials flickers to dilated pupils as you got him to focus on you.

“My little doe.”

You came home.

His head came to rest just above yours, wide and sharp antlers just out of reach. His leaking cock finally found your core, Alastor groaning into the blankets to find you already so wet. Your hands gripped his arms, nails breaking skin in anticipation.

Lined up and impatient, he pushed up into you with unmeasured force. You bit onto the flesh of his shoulder, trying to keep yourself from screaming. In those dreamlike visits, he filled you so perfectly, body molding to him. But now, you were stuffed. With one thrust your cervix was bruised and tender. The tiniest pain bled into the eye-rolling pleasure of having him back in you. With heavy breaths he thrust into you with a need you couldn’t ever remember feeling before. He fucked you like he would die without your moans spilling across his chest.

And it was true, feeling your soft cunt clenching him so tightly was a need more than anything else. A ray of light at the bottom of the Mariana’s trench. Impossible, and undeserved. You were everything he wasn't good enough to have, wasn’t clean enough of conscience to hold. An angel clipping a wing to dip into hell, you killed to sink back into his arms. Even if you didn’t say it, not yet. He could feel it in you. He had left a deeper impression on your soul than perhaps you had his. You weren’t just his by way of a deal, you corrupted yourself to his level.

He looked down at you, your eyes already wet and unfocused, mouth hanging open as every breath turned into rhythmic moans. Your soul a fresh snowfall, your adoration for him a drop of blood. His eyes shut, mind focused on where you and him merged now. Friction pulling him forward to his climax.

Your body was trembling, his lower stomach rubbing against your already swollen clit. That soft button just past your entrance wasn’t just being pressed, it was smashed against your walls with his shaft. His head dragging past it. You wanted to speak, to express how good you felt, but your tongue was frozen in your mouth. Every inhale became a gasp, every exhale was now a moan. You felt his body tighten, thrusts become shallow as his large head refused to stray far from your womb. Silently, your hands tore into his shoulders as you gripped through your orgasm. The muscles in your jaw now locked. Your legs came to wrap around his hips and draw him in, thighs convulsing as his pace didn’t stop for you to recover.

With an unmistakable mating press, his cock buried itself in your pussy. Balls deep suddenly made more sense as a phrase. Your cervix stung as his body forced more room for itself in you. The way your walls spasmed around him felt debauched, your body starved for him. Hungry as he had been. Alastor felt your soft cunt drowning in his seed and he groaned into your hair. Already spilling out, he didn’t even consider unsheathing himself from you.

You struggled to slow your heart rate, vision blocked entirely with his own heaving chest. As he softened in you, so did his form. Body reconfiguring above you, antlers now small and uncharacteristically cute.

With regained red eyes, he looked at your face.

“Are you-,” he sighed, “Asleep.” Not a bad future after all, he mused. Watching you sleep.

He considered wiping you down before placing you beneath his blanket, but it seemed like such a waste. Your head on his pillow, he felt everything in his chest settle. Like a puzzle whose pieces were all right but just not flush, his own damned soul settled flat. Everything snuggly in place.

One of his large palms came to rest on your head, a familiar place for him now, “Sleep well, darling doe. I’ll be here when you wake.”

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult: @nonetheartist , fizzled-phoenix , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @fjorjestertealeaf , @pansexual-opera-house , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @roxxie-wolf , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @phobophobular , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @surusurusuru , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum , @ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1

🎞️ TRDFAHS VHS owners: @leathesimp , @alastors-staff, @howabouticallyou , @myrunawaysweets , @karmakillz , @serendipitous-fernweh , @universal-s1ut , @anuttellaa , @sillyb0nez , @nonamevenus , @fairyv-ice , @nitnat6245 , @alicehasdrowned , @alicebaskervilleposts , @jyoongim , @lunaramune , @christinebloodwrittings , @itszzmoon , @thekanrojimitsuri2 ,

@luna-usagi-chan

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

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covenofagatha · 24 days ago

Text

You'll Taste Me Too

You're staying in your aunt and uncle's apartment for the summer while they're away on vacation and you meet their neighbors, Agatha and Rio, who take quite the interest in you

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: rio has a penis, mommy kink (agatha), daddy kink (rio), voyeurism, cum eating, sex, dirty talk, degradation, oral sex, masturbation, slight praise kink

A/N: not really sure where this came from lol but just wanted to switch it up for a sec but POL will be back soon! and I'll probably get around to at least a part 2 of this as well

Your aunt and uncle’s apartment is on the thirteenth floor of the complex in the center of New York City. It’s expensive—way more than you would ever be able to afford on your own.

But your relatives are rich, so rich that they are traveling to their home in Napa for the summer, and have extended the invitation to you to apartment-sit and take care of their dog, Russel. They would pay, of course, and you had just finished law school, were broke, and tired of living with your parents for the past two months.

So you jumped at the chance. The money they were paying would be much more than you’d make as a public attorney and you were hoping that you could scope out potential jobs in New York.

But you were determined to make the best of the summer while you could. With any luck, there would be some cute girls in the complex that you could meet. Your love life has been lacking lately, to say the least. A summer fling might just be the thing you need.

The elevator doors open on the thirteenth floor—your uncle made jokes about the irony of how lucky they were to find it when they were looking for some place to move—and you jolt to find two older women standing there.

You feel severely underdressed in your shorts and tank top; the one on the right, who looks slightly older, pale with long dark hair and blue eyes that pierce through you, is wearing a cream colored dress with silver sequins that falls all the way to her ankles. It cuts low and you make a pointed effort not to stare at her chest but you think she notices by the way her maroon-painted lips curl into a smirk.

The woman standing next to her on the left is tall and lean, dark hair like her partner but shorter, with light hazel eyes that pop with mascara. She’s sporting a black blazer over a tight white shirt tucked into forest green pants.

It’s still relatively early in the evening. You wonder where they’re going dressed this nicely.

“Excuse us,” the woman on the right says, raising an eyebrow as if she’s challenging you. You blink and then realize you’ve been standing in the open elevator, blocking their path.

The other woman chuckles, pushing her tongue against the side of her cheek in amusement. You feel your cheeks flush. “Easy, Agatha. Don’t scare the poor girl. She looks like she’s seen a ghost.”

But the one in the dress—Agatha—just snorts. She takes a step closer and you feel the vague sense that she is scrutinizing you. “Haven’t seen you around here before. What’s a pretty young thing like yourself doing up here all alone?” It feels predatory, almost, but there’s a hot twisting in your stomach.

“I’m staying in my aunt and uncle’s apartment for the summer,” you say finally after swallowing hard. You raise your hand in slow motion and point down the hall even though you feel stupid for doing it.

The elevator doors start to close, realize that you’re standing there, and slide back open.

They share a glance and there’s a glint in Agatha’s eyes that’s shared by the other woman.

“I’m Rio,” the one in the suit says after a moment of silence, sticking out her hand for you to shake. You take it and the firmness of her grasp causes a tugging in your gut. Rio tilts her head. “This is my wife Agatha. We live right next to your aunt and uncle, so we’ll see you around.”

It’s a statement. A promise.

You nod, at a loss for words. Agatha smiles, baring her teeth to you, and steps around you into the elevator. Rio walks in on the other side.

One of them puts their hand on your back and the heat radiating from their fingers makes you shiver.

“If you need anything,” Agatha whispers into your ear, lips so close you can feel them moving, “don’t hesitate to ask.”

The hand pushes you forward and you stumble out of the elevator, whipping around to catch Rio winking at you before the doors close.

What was that?

You feel rattled, but there’s no denying the heat that’s running through your body.

Fumbling with the keys in your hand, you slowly walk down the hall to room 1307. It’s at the end of the hall, so there’s no wondering which room your neighbors are in.

There’s something about them—you can’t decide if it’s enticing or strange.

Russel, their golden retriever, runs up to greet you, tail wagging furiously, when you push open the door. Your aunt and uncle left this afternoon, but there’s a sense of emptiness in the apartment that makes it seem like it’s been uninhabited for weeks.

You drop the keys in the bowl on the end table by the door and lead an excited Russel down the hallway and into the kitchen. The gray tile contrasts nicely with the white cabinets and marble countertops. The island in the center has three bar stools and you take a seat to look at what they left you. A bottle of red wine, almost fifty years old, sits there next to a glass and a note addressed to you.

It’s from your uncle, giving you instructions on how to take care of Russel, even though his wife had gone over it in extensive detail over the phone last weekend, and telling you to enjoy the wine.

You pour yourself a big glass and sip on the earthy flavors while you walk through the apartment, seeing it in a new light now that it’s all yours.

The living room has an entire wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the City and you lose yourself in the view for a moment before Russel hits the back of your knee with his nose. You pet him affectionately before checking out the bedroom.

A king-sized bed is positioned across from the wall with the door, with matching wood nightstands on either side. The duvet is a plain blue with a dark headboard and when you snoop through the drawers, you find a bottle of lube. You wrinkle your nose in disgust and decide that you’re never looking through anything ever again.

The ensuite bathroom has a huge stand-up shower in it with a gray tiled backsplash and a rain shower head. The counter for the sink is granite with a silver faucet and the toilet has its own sliding door for privacy.

A huge step up from the cramped two-bedroom house you were living in with your parents and the dorms from law school.

Even just being here has already made your head feel more clear. This is what you need. Just to be alone, take some time for yourself, and figure out what you’re going to do with your life.

For the first time in a while, you feel actually hopeful for your future.

——

Thump.

Your eyes shoot open and you jerk up in the bed, woken from your slumber. What is that? Is someone knocking?

Thump.

It’s not coming from the door. It sounds like it’s the wall.

Thump.

You strain your ears and then—

“Oh, fuck,” a woman moans and you groan, head flopping back onto your pillow. For as much money as your aunt and uncle pay for this apartment, this is how thin the walls are?

“You feel so good,” someone else says, another woman. Your hand flies to your mouth as the pieces connect.

“Fuck, Rio, please.”

It’s your neighbors. Having, by the sounds of it, very good sex. You realize that the wall that your bed is against must be the one you share with them. Your entire body starts to burn and you unconsciously try to lower the sound of your breathing.

Not so you can hear it more.

Just so they don’t hear you listening.

“Are you going to come for me, Agatha?” Rio asks in a breathy voice, clear as day.

How do your aunt and uncle live like this?

“Yes, please, Rio,” Agatha gasps.

Thump.

There’s an unbearable heat growing between your legs and you squeeze your thighs together. Your hand is still clamped tightly over your mouth and you’re willing your blood to stop rushing so loud in your ears. You can feel their touch against your back, feel Agatha’s lips so close to your skin.

Fuck, what is happening?

“Come for me,” Rio says, “come on my cock. Let me fill you up.”

You sharply inhale and your eyes widen. Your heart is pounding in your core. You can see them so clearly in your mind—Agatha on her hands and knees, back arched, Rio’s cock driving in and out of her with a fast pace. Rio’s hands on Agatha’s hips with a bruising grip.

Do they know that Rio’s thrusts are shaking the bed so much that you can hear everything?

A delusion thought takes hold in your mind—do they want you to?

No. That’s crazy.

“Yes, fuck, Rio, I’m coming,” Agatha whimpers and there’s a high-pitched sound and then a low grunt. You wish you could see what’s happening, and then you instantly shoot that wish down.

Because these are your two neighbors, who are married and much older than you are. You can’t exactly see either of them wanting to bring you into that. You’re just horny and lonely and maybe you need to try a dating app.

There’s a few more sounds but none that you can make out super clearly.

And then about five minutes later, there’s silence.

There’s no proof that what you heard was anything more than a dream.

None whatsoever except for the burning fire inside you.

But you’re definitely not going to replay those sounds in your mind on repeat and pretend you were there.

And you’re definitely not going to slide your hand into your shorts.

——

Russel wakes you up a quarter after seven by licking your face repeatedly.

It takes you a moment to gather your bearings and remember where you are but then you reluctantly get up and grab his leash after sliding on your vans. You came by the apartment a few days ago to drop some of your stuff here, but you do need to go back to your parent’s house to get the rest of it at some point.

The bright lights from the hallway make you squint and you pull the apartment door shut behind you. You’re in so much of a daze that you don’t even notice the woman just a few feet away from you, also exiting her apartment.

“Morning, hon,” a voice says, and you jump. Agatha is standing there, in a black quarter-zip and teal leggings, hair tied back in a ponytail. “Good first night?”

The smirk on her face tells you that she knows exactly how your night was and heat bursts through you while you shift from leg to leg.

“Yeah,” you say, a false confidence projected but you’re not sure where it came from, “but a little noisy.”

Instead of even having the decency to pretend to be ashamed, a slow smirk spreads across Agatha’s face and she shrugs like she’s blameless. “You might want to invest in a pair of earplugs,” she says teasingly and then takes a step closer, something dangerous on her face. Her voice lowers. “Or don’t.”

A strangled gasp tears itself from your mouth before you can stop it and her eyes flash.

“Have a good day, pet. Try to stay out of trouble,” Agatha whispers, eyes raking over you, and chills erupt all over your body.

She winks and turns around and you have no choice but to trail behind her because she’s also walking toward the other end of the hallway. Will you have to get in the elevator with her?

How are you supposed to? After that?

Your heart races so loudly you’re afraid she might be able to hear it.

But at the last moment, Agatha goes to the right and pushes open the stairwell door. Thirteen floors down is a long way to go, but you think the game that she’s playing must be worth it.

She gives you one last look over her shoulder with a smirk and then you’re left alone with Russel, wondering what the hell just happened.

——

It’s two days later before you interact with them again.

You’re walking back to the complex after picking up dinner, spaghetti and meatballs from the cheapest place you could find—which still means you spent about twenty dollars on it.

New York City is fucking expensive.

But if you were to get a job here, you’re not sure you’d say no.

“Look who it is,” a voice says from behind you, just as you’re reaching for the handle to push the glass doors to the lobby of the complex open.

A tingle runs down your spine.

You’d recognize that voice anywhere now.

Come for me, come on my cock. Let me fill you up.

Praying Rio doesn’t notice your sudden breathlessness, you plaster a smile on your face and turn around, only to find her and her wife standing there.

Rio has denim jeans and a green crop top on, while Agatha wears a satiny purple button-down tucked into black pants. Both of them have teasing expressions on their face and you feel a warmth in your stomach start to bloom.

Agatha steps closer, close enough to you where you freeze, but she puts her hand on top of the door handle, almost on top of your hand, and pushes it open. She holds it open for you and her wife and you mutter a thank you as you brush by her.

You can hear their footsteps echoing on the tile behind you as you walk to the elevator. You can see their reflections in the gold glass of the doors.

And before you can press the up arrow, Rio reaches past you and does it herself. The button lights up but the doors don’t open.

“So, how are you liking it here?” Rio drawls and you step back in line with them so you can look at her easier.

“It’s nice to be on my own,” you admit. “I haven’t had much time to relax in the past few years.”

Agatha tuts and nods. “I’m sure it is. All that freedom to do whatever you want to do?” You smile politely and her eyes get darker. “Just make sure you’re being a good girl.”

“Yes, mommy.” It slips out of your mouth before you even know what you’re saying and your eyes widen in shock at yourself, but they both chuckle. It was supposed to be a mockery, but you said it in such a small voice, so pathetic, and now, it seems so much more.

The elevator doors ding.

Rio puts her hand on your shoulder blades and guides you inside. You’re almost nervous to be alone with them in a confined space. There’s something going on between you three already, and you’ve only actually known them for a few days.

But when you step inside, they hardly even look at you.

Rio advances on Agatha until the latter is against the wall with a hungry look in her eyes. Rio puts a hand on her waist and the other grabs Agatha’s chin and you watch with rapt attention as their lips meet.

Despite the fact that you’re in here with them, along with a camera in the right corner of the elevator, Rio’s tongue licks into Agatha’s mouth and Agatha lets out a small groan that makes your fingers twist into the hem of your shirt. Your breathing grows heavy and you stumble to the opposite wall, mouth slightly agape.

Agatha wraps her hands around her wife’s neck to pull her closer and Rio slots a thigh between Agatha’s legs. A heat unlike any you’ve ever known is spreading from your cheeks down your neck to your core.

Agatha’s hips slowly grind on Rio’s leg and you can hear them kissing. Would they fuck right here?

In front of you?

They have to know what they’re doing.

The doors ding and you feel the sore ache of disappointment inside your chest.

They break away, both of their lips swollen and cheeks tinted red, chests heaving laboriously. Rio tugs Agatha out of the elevator, giving you a smug glance, and allowing you just enough time to flick your gaze down and observe the visible bulge in her pants.

Your cunt clenches around nothing.

Come on my cock.

There isn’t much else in your mind right now.

What would it be like to have her inside you?

Now you can’t stop picturing yourself in Rio’s lap, her cock inside you, while you bounce up and down. Agatha behind you, one hand on your hip and the other wrapped around you, rubbing your clit.

You almost forget to get off the elevator.

Agatha glances behind her to make sure you’re following and you are—even if you feel like you’re drunk. She whispers something in her wife’s ear and you feel a rush of paranoia that they’re talking about you, but you kind of hope they are. You just wish you knew what they were saying.

The walk down the hallway is too short all of a sudden, but before they slide their key into the door, Rio turns to face you. You stop, half expecting an invitation in. The agreement is already dancing on your tongue.

“Have a good night, pet,” she says, in the same tone as Agatha said the other morning and your knees almost buckle. Your fingers tighten around your bag of take-out.

Agatha smirks and leans in like she’s going to tell you an inside joke. “I know we will,” she whispers with a smirk and a wink and your lips part with a heavy breath.

Rio opens their door, revealing a glimpse of a hallway and a few picture frames of them on the wall, before her tongue presses against the inside of her cheek as she looks you up and down. You meet her stare, hot and heavy, and pray that she says something.

But she just chuckles, like something’s funny, before walking inside. Agatha bites her lip and smiles crookedly before following her wife.

The door closes and you’re left alone in the hallway, almost shaking.

Russel greets you at the door to your own apartment the second you open it and you scratch his head while you kick off your shoes. They have to be flirting, right?

All of that?

It’s not just in your head.

But why?

You puzzle over it the entire time while you eat your dinner, with Russel at your feet, begging for a bite. You give him a sad look, and maybe he understands, because he pouts and goes to curl up by the couch.

Agatha and Rio have to want something.

Do they really want you? Or is this just some ploy? Although, you can’t really think of an ulterior motive.

You rack your brain for anything your aunt and uncle said about them, but nothing comes to mind. They never complained about anything or anyone in this place, and you think they would’ve mentioned the flirtatious neighbors next door.

Unless your neighbors have just taken a special interest in you.

No. You have a hard time believing that’s what it is.

And yet, you don’t even fall asleep that night before you hear it.

Thump.

This time, you’re ready. You sit up straight in bed, teeth biting your bottom lip to control your breathing, while your fingernails dig into your thighs. It was a hot day today, and even with the fan on and the room temperature turned on low, you still haven’t been able to shake the feeling of sweat off you, so you’re only in underwear and an old t-shirt.

“Fuck, Rio,” Agatha moans sultrily and you swear that you hear something that sounds like her wetness. “Your cock feels so good.”

Thump.

Are they doing this for you? It’s narcissistic and completely self-absorbed to even consider that they’re thinking about you right now, but you can’t help it. After everything?

“Your cunt feels so good,” Rio says in a low voice and you start to drag your fingertips up and down your thighs, feeling the pull in your gut when you get close to your cunt each time.

Thump.

If you said something right now, how would they respond? Would they immediately call you a pervert and never talk to you again?

Or would they like it?

Either way, you can’t find it in yourself to talk because you think you’re scared of either option.

There’s a faint whimper and then Agatha cries out, “Fuck, fuck, please, oh—god.”

A small grunt. “What would she think? If she saw you taking my cock like this? Think she would want to join?”

Is Rio talking about…you?

There’s no denying the pool in your underwear and you preemptively bite on your pointer finger before you move the soaked gusset aside and slide two fingers on your other hand through your folds. They’re wet, even more than you were expecting, and you almost let out a noise at how sensitive you already are.

“I bet she’d suck your cock like such a slut,” Agatha gasps and your hips arch up when your fingers finally touch your clit. It sends sparks racing up your spine and you breathe heavily around the makeshift gag of your hand.

“Fuck,” Rio breathes.

Thump.

The hand that’s not rubbing your clit leaves your mouth and tweaks your nipples before sliding down to your cunt. You bite your lip again, feeling the sharp sting of pain because you’ve already chewed it raw, as you slip two fingers into yourself easily while you still circle your clit.

“Think she’d let me fill her up?” Rio asks.

Even though it’s rhetorical and obviously you’re not supposed to answer, let alone be listening to this in the first place, you can’t help but whimper, “Yes.”

“Oh—fuck, Rio, honey,” Agatha whimpers and you can practically imagine Rio’s grin right now.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Are you going to come for me?”

There’s no answer; Agatha must be nodding though.

Because you are.

Your fingers curl up inside you, filling you in a way that’s satisfactory, but not enough, and you don’t think anything could be enough except for them. You want Agatha’s fingers on your clit with Rio’s cock buried inside you while they make your mind go blank because of the pleasure they’re giving you.

Tension climbs up your spine and you gasp out loud while you clench around yourself.

Thump.

You line up your thrusts with each of the thumps and pretend that it’s one of them who’s driving into you right now.

“Come for me,” Rio growls.

Agatha and you both fall apart at the same time, based on her moans. You spasm around your fingers and make a noise of your own. Did they hear you? Did they know what you were doing?

Rio comes not too long after her wife based on the low grunts. You have the sounds ingrained in your mind and even when the couple next door stops making them, they replay over and over, making sure you’ll never forget them.

Much like the other night, there’s some quiet chatter that you can’t understand, faint rustling, and then silence.

It takes you a while to fall asleep, even after your intense orgasm, mainly because you’re not sure where things go from here.

——

It’s been four days since you’ve seen or heard them last. Since you masturbated to the sound of them fucking. Part of you wonders if they’re ashamed of how far things have gone; part of you wonders if you are.

But deep down, you know that you’re not.

It’s just fun. So what if your hot, older neighbors want to flirt with you a little? So what if you want to fuck yourself while Rio fucks Agatha so good that you can hear them through the walls?

Do they feel the same? Or do they feel that they’ve crossed some sort of line that they can’t come back from?

It isn’t until you’re right outside their door that fateful night, coming back to your apartment after getting dinner with a law school friend, that you hear them.

The same thump sound that you’ve become conditioned to, the sound that haunts your waking moments, the sound that you’ve started hallucinating because it’s impossible to stop thinking about them fucking.

You stop, right outside their door, and then press yourself against it without even thinking. Your hands claw at the hard surface of it, ear pressed against the wood, and you might just have to accept that you’ve gone completely insane over them.

But they wanted you to.

At least, you’re almost convinced now. All those looks, those comments; this is what they wanted to happen, right? For you to become hooked on them?

Was it just a game? Or was it real?

Are they just rubbing it in that they have what you want?

As if you’re in a trance, your right hand slides down the door to the handle. It will be locked, so why are you even trying?

Except the handle turns smoothly with no resistance.

The door opens.

Your head spins with a million different thoughts. You should leave, you know that. The rational part of your brain is screaming that at you.

But your body is on autopilot right now and you move through their apartment, practically the same layout as your aunt and uncle’s, trying to stay as silent as possible. If they catch you, there’s no telling how they’ll react. Sure, they’ve been flirting, but breaking in and trespassing in their home is a whole other story.

You think you must’ve gone insane. What would your aunt and uncle say if they knew this was what you were doing?

If you’re reading this the wrong way, if you get caught, and they find out? You’re as good as dead. Your parents will kick you out when you try to go back home, if you’re not thrown in jail first. Everything you’ve worked for is at risk.

And yet you still keep walking.

Through their kitchen that still smells of pasta. Through their living room with the blinds drawn open, showing you almost the exact same view as you have. You walk through the hallway on the left in the direction of your apartment, almost afraid of what you’ll find.

The door is cracked open and you peer through it.

It is a bedroom, but a small one, and your brows furrow in confusion. It’s not the same size as yours, even though they’re relatively the same layout. You look behind you and across the living room and kitchen, see another closed door, and a spark of realization jolts through you.

They must have a two-bedroom apartment. And they fully knew which one was against the shared wall.

This whole thing…they wanted it too. They set it all up, they knew you’d hear. The silence you’ve been hearing after they had sex must’ve been because they moved to their actual room. And why your aunt and uncle never complained about their noisy neighbors.

You dare to take another peak and this time you can see them clearly on the bed—Agatha on her back, legs held open by Rio, who’s thrusting between them. Both of them are naked and you watch transfixed as Agatha’s supple breasts bounce with each stroke of Rio’s cock, which you can see glistening with wetness in the soft light of the lamp on the nightstand. The headboard hits the wall each time.

Thump.

Agatha rubs her face with her left hand and rolls her hips up to meet her wife’s thrusts. It snaps you out of your haze and you’re suddenly grounded in the moment.

“Fuck, please, Rio,” Agatha breathes and Rio huffs out a laugh and snakes her hand between their bodies to rub at her clit. She leans over her wife to kiss her deeply, never breaking her fast pace, and you feel a hollow ache inside your core.

If you snuck a hand into your shorts, neither of them would ever know. You could get out the second they were done. There would be no trace of you ever being here.

Although you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to look at them again after this.

“You like this?” Rio asks, driving deep, and Agatha’s mouth drops open with a silent moan. She nods frantically and you can picture the smug smirk on Rio’s face right now. You want both of them—you need both of them, and if this is the closest you can come to that, so be it.

Whatever you can get, you’ll take.

Even if this is really wrong.

Their entanglement of limbs and being able to see Rio’s hard cock has your clit pulsing and you bite your lip again, the skin just barely having healed from the other night.

“Fuck, please, more,” Agatha babbles and arches her back off the bed so Rio’s cock can get in deeper. You’re tempted to slide your hand into your shorts but you also just want to watch.

Rio brackets Agatha’s face with her forearms and slows her thrusts down but makes them more powerful and you swear you can feel it in your cunt.

Agatha picks her head up to whisper something in Rio’s ear and Rio lets out a guttural groan before picking the pace up again, her cock making a squelching sound each time it drives into Agatha’s pussy.

You lean against the wall, biting on your nails, and your fingertips on your other hand rest against the slightly ajar door.

Without realizing what you’re doing, you push it just a little more open. It creaks slightly and you freeze, somehow trying to push yourself more against the wall should they look, but they don’t.

“Fuck, sweetheart, your cunt is so fucking hot,” Rio groans and Agatha tilts her head to the side, dark curls spread out beneath her. Rio’s hands grip her thighs and push her legs even further apart and is rewarded by a loud noise from her wife.

“Her cunt,” Agatha breathes and your chest stutters. “I bet her cunt would feel so good around your cock. So wet and tight…”

Rio’s hips falter for a moment and her head drops down to rest against Agatha’s bosom. It almost breaks you but you stay strong. If you touch yourself right now, you’ll risk making a noise and it’ll all be over.

Even though your core is aching, your clit is throbbing, and you’ve never felt so overheated.

Agatha runs a hand through her hair again and Rio cups her wife’s breasts, pulling another moan from the woman on the bottom. Rio’s thrusts are becoming shorter and shallower and Agatha’s breathing is becoming heavier, both of their words becoming slurs that are hard to understand. You hear more things that you think are about you, but you’re stuck, unable to do something about it.

If you were a bit braver, you’d walk right in there and join them.

But you’re rooted to the ground, only able to watch.

Not that you’re complaining.

“Fuck, Rio, I’m going to come,” Agatha whimpers and Rio nods, picking up her thrusts again. She’s going deeper than before and you can almost feel her inside you, the phantom length dragging against your cunt walls, and you clench around the imagination.

What you would give to actually have her fuck you. To have both of them fuck you.

When this summer is over, you’re going to have to make up a million excuses to come back and visit your aunt and uncle, if only for the chance of running into their neighbors.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” Rio groans, rubbing her wife’s clit once again. You squeeze your thighs together and shift, feeling the pressure and slight sense of relief between them.

Agatha keens, all of her muscles stiffening, and then she lets out a loud sigh as she relaxes after a few moments. Pink stains her cheeks and her chest rises and falls rapidly and you can’t stop looking at her boobs and the rosy color of her nipples. What would it be like, to suck them with your mouth?

Rio snickers, slowing down her thrusts. “Seems like our voyeur likes this too. Do you think she’s about to come as well?”

It takes you a moment to realize that she’s talking about you, even though you’re the only one she could possibly be referring to.

A smirk stretches across Agatha’s face and then her blue eyes meet yours in the doorway and your heart skips a beat.

Did they know this whole time?

Rio doesn’t stop moving inside her wife, who lazily rolls her hips to meet Rio’s thrusts.

But Agatha raises her right hand and beckons you into the room with two fingers.

As if you have a line connecting you to her, you obey. The door creaks as you push it open so you can fit through and you walk, as if in a trance, to the edge of the bed, feeling like a kid who got caught.

“We’ve been keeping the door unlocked,” Rio says, her voice strained even amidst her faux-casual tone, and she leans down to suckle on Agatha’s left nipple, who inhales sharply.

“We were just wondering how long it would take you to stop by,” Agatha says, sounding a lot lighter than her wife.

Even if you could say anything at the moment, you’re not sure what would come out of your mouth. An apology for spying? Or a question asking if you could join?

Rio groans and you don’t know who you’d rather be right now. The sound of their pubic bones meeting fills the air and with each thrust, you feel your clit pulse in turn.

“I thought I told you to be a good girl,” Agatha teases, bucking her hips up. It’s all surreal, watching them fuck in front of you while both of them are acting like this is completely normal. “But I guess you need mommy and daddy to teach you a lesson.”

A moan rips from your throat, so deep that your ribs rattle.

Rio finally looks at you, tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek like always. “Would you like that, pet?”

There’s not a moment of hesitation before you frantically nod your head. Whatever it is, you’ll accept it more than willingly.

Although you can’t help but hope that you get to suck on Agatha’s nipples while Rio fucks you.

As if they know what you’re thinking, they both chuckle. Rio is still pumping inside her wife and you wonder how much longer she’s going to hold out for.

“Look at her, Agatha, the little slut wants us to fuck her,” Rio mocks, reading you like a book. Your cheeks burn, from embarrassment and desire.

Agatha shakes her head and meets Rio’s thrust again with her hips. “Well she’s going to have to learn to be a good girl first. I think…once you come, Rio, our pet is going to have to clean daddy’s cum out from mommy. What do you think?”

She’s asking Rio, but you can’t help but voice your opinion with a loud and pathetic whimper. Rio leans down to kiss her wife, completely ignoring you, and it only turns you on more.

Rio starts thrusting hard, pulling gasps from both of them, and you’re not really sure what to do other than sway weakly, your knees hitting the edge of the bed.

“Oh, fuck, Aggie, I can’t—” Rio groans and Agatha huffs out a laugh. Your mouth opens, just at the anticipation, and your vision blurs.

“Fill me up,” Agatha begs, scratching at Rio’s bare shoulders. “I want your cum inside me so she can lick it out.”

Rio’s hips falter and her head ducks down, focusing on driving into her wife with a passion that makes your core burn even more. You want to help in any way that you can, but then you see Rio peeking at you from her position—you see that both of them are watching you.

They’re both getting off on you being here, maybe just as much as you are.

“I’m gonna come—fuck, Aggie,” Rio gasps and then her entire body stiffens with a low groan, the same sound you’ve been hearing through the wall.

Watching is something you never even dreamed of, and you’ll never be the same.

Rio twitches and you imagine the warmth of her seed spreading through you instead of Agatha. Will you get to feel it one day?

She gives a few more half-hearted thrusts while her wife writhes beneath her, and then Rio looks over at you. “Are you ready?”

Mouth watering, you nod and climb onto the bed on your knees.

Rio pushes her cock one last time into Agatha’s cunt before sitting up and pulling out and giving you your first good look at both Agatha’s pussy and Rio’s cock.

Rio’s cock is red and slowly softening, but absolutely soaked with both her cum and Agatha’s. It still twitches and you have the sudden urge to take it into your mouth and coax it back to hardness so she can fuck your throat with it.

But you turn your attention to Agatha, the task at hand. Her pussy is swollen and puffy and pink, her clit engorged and peeking out through her lips. It’s still convulsing and you watch in awe as she reaches down her hand and spreads her folds with her fingers, revealing her throbbing walls.

And—Rio’s cum.

A white strand leaks out, slowly sliding down to her ass and onto the bed beneath her, and you flick your eyes up to check with Agatha, who is looking at you expectantly.

You move between her legs, still feeling like you’re having an out of body experience, and crouch down so you’re level with her cunt. She smells hot and musky and your mouth is dry, stomach twisting pleasantly.

A hand—Rio’s—buries itself in your hair as another glob slips out and she pulls gently to lead you to her wife’s pussy.

“Clean mommy up, sweetheart,” Rio says, rough and gravelly.

Your tongue sticks out experimentally and drags through her folds and Agatha jerks beneath you. The mixture of Rio’s and Agatha’s cum in your mouth is a bit salty and relatively tasteless, but you’re immediately addicted.

“How does daddy taste?” Agatha asks, a little breathlessly, and you moan as an answer. Agatha’s hips rock up against the vibrations and you eagerly begin shoving your tongue inside her entrance, scooping more of Rio’s cum out and into your mouth. You drink it, both of their wetness, eyes closing as you lose yourself more in it.

“Look at the dirty whore enjoying herself,” Rio coos and Agatha chokes out a laugh before groaning quietly when you suck on her clit. You don’t know if you’re allowed to do anything more than just “clean her out,” but you want to.

You want it all.

“I think we need to keep her around,” Agatha gasps and Rio’s hand tightens in your hair, holding you right where you are. You can feel their cum getting all over your face and you continue delving right back in, wanting to get even messier. “I want to watch her suck your cock.”

Rio groans and so do you, just as your tongue slides into Agatha’s cunt and curls up. Your nose roughly bumps against her clit and Agatha’s hand tangles into your hair too.

“Look how good she is with her mouth,” Rio says. “I bet she’ll be the perfect slut. I want her to eat you out while I fuck her hot cunt.”

You keen loudly and feel Agatha clench around your tongue. You want to say that Rio could do that right now, just slide her cock inside you because you’re already so wet and desperate that you could take it easily, but both of them keep you exactly where you are.

“Are you getting all of daddy’s cum out?” Agatha asks in a strangled voice and you nod as much as you’re able to and you hear one of them laugh. “You’re going to make mommy come if you keep that up.”

And you never had an option after that.

It becomes more about giving her an orgasm than it ever was about cleaning her cunt, and you start urgently mouthing at her, sucking on her clit, lashing your tongue against it, and then thrusting your tongue inside her. She’s clenching more, almost rhythmically, and Rio chuckles before tugging on your hair sharply. The sting makes you groan but you don’t stop and neither of them make you.

“Oh, fuck, you’re going to make mommy come,” Agatha keens and when you peer at her through hooded eyelashes, you see Rio’s free hand rolling her wife’s nipple between her fingers.

You scrape your teeth against her clit and then suck roughly while Rio whispers praises into your ear, and Agatha’s muscles lock, her hips jerking up, before she makes the same tell-tale signs you’ve been hearing for the past week through the walls and in your head.

She grinds against your face, both of their hands tightening in your hair, while you stick out your tongue and let her take what she needs.

It’s a moment before Agatha finally slows down and then she tugs you away because of her intense two orgasms and you sit back on your heels, inhaling deeply. You can feel the stickiness coating your cheeks and your tongue darts out to lick at the messiness and Rio watches you with a smirk, her cock half-hard again.

You wonder if they’ll fuck you now, help you out with the arousal throbbing between your own legs. Rio glances at her wife, who is still recovering, and Agatha winks.

Rio climbs off the bed and tilts her head so you follow her out of the room and back into the kitchen. She is still naked and you watch her pale ass sway as she saunters.

Where is she taking you? Is she going to bend you over the counter, fuck you, and let Agatha spy on you? Your heart skips a beat—you hope so.

But instead, she takes you right to the door, and despite her state of undress, she opens it and clasps your shoulder. “Next time, don’t hesitate to walk right in.”

You stare at her dumbfounded while her eyes twinkle with amusement.

The next thing you know, you’re in the hallway and Rio is closing the door on you. You take a shaky step back, still tasting and smelling their mix of cum on your tongue and face.

Does Rio mean that? Will they keep setting up scenarios like that to lure you into their bedroom?

Not their bedroom though—the guest one. Right on the other side of the wall that your bed is.

It was all a part of their plan, you’re starting to realize. How long have they been leaving the door unlocked for? How long have they been fucking in that specific room just so you’d overhear?

Since the first time they met you?

The thought makes your cunt clench again and you quickly go into your own apartment before anyone else on the floor comes out to see you in such a disheveled state. Russel meets you at the door and you pet him absentmindedly, walking toward the pantry to get his dinner ready.

He digs in immediately when you set the bowl down and you collapse onto the couch, still in shock about what just happened.

Your phone buzzes in the pocket of your shorts and you pull it out without thinking, hoping somehow that Agatha or Rio got your number and texted you to come back over.

It’s from your uncle.

How are things going?

You laugh out loud to yourself and Russel picks his head up out of his food dish for a moment before going back to it.

Everything is going great. I’ve met your neighbors—they seem nice.

It’s the understatement of the century.

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strangererotica · 11 months ago

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SOAKED 𓇢𓆸

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Summary: After Reader is stranded by a carriage mishap, she finds herself lost in an attempt to make her way home alone. Luckily for her, another carriage happens to cross her path, belonging to none other than the Viscount Bridgerton himself…

In keeping with Bridgerton’s vibe, Reader is a young woman with zero sexual knowledge or experience. I imagine she’s around nineteen or twenty years old and while she has had suitors, none of them have inspired in her the feelings Lord Bridgerton evokes…

While enjoying your evening ride, your carriage had broken down. To the great frustration of your driver, you’d insisted on walking home alone. It wasn’t in good taste, for a young woman to be out walking unattended. But you were in an exploring mood, and wanted to do your exploring alone. The company of your carriage driver was something you were honestly glad to be rid of.

Despite being reasonably close to town, you’d somehow managed to wander in the direction of the forest rather than home. Night was creeping closer, trees casting shadows across your path as you looked up at the sky, trying to find your bearings.

A large, cold drop of rain ‘plopped’ against your forehead, making you flinch. Several subsequent drops followed, till the situation quickly became a downpour. You raced for shelter beneath the trees, cursing under your breath as your ankle twisted on a large root sticking up from the ground. The trees were basically useless at shielding you from the rain, Autumn having stripped their branches almost entirely of leaves.

Your hat was soaked, its brim flattened against the sides of your head. The pretty dress you’d chosen to wear that afternoon was now caked with mud at the trim; you realized you must look incredibly foolish right now, but certainly not as foolish as you felt.

The sound of horses’ hooves approaching caught your attention. You looked down the road to see a carriage drawing closer, rain bouncing from its roof and sides. When the carriage came to a stop just by you, a stab of panic shot through your chest. What if it was someone you knew, discovering you out here looking a complete mess? And even worse, what if the carriage belonged to a man?

The carriage came to a full stop; the door swung open, and the handsome, familiar face of Anthony Bridgerton emerged. Your heart thumped inside your chest as his jet eyes raked over you, a mischievous smirk turning his lips upward. “Unusual night for a walk, Miss (Y/N),” he remarked, his tone playful.

Despite your embarrassment and the wet state of your clothing, you attempted a curtsy. “Indeed it is, Lord Bridgerton,” you replied. “I was out for an evening ride, when my carriage broke down.” You pointed past you, unsure of which direction you’d actually come from at this point.

“And your driver?” Anthony asked, seemingly unbothered by the rain pelting his hat and shoulders. “What of him? Am I to assume he left you unattended? At the-.” He bit his lip, running his eyes over your breasts, your nipples visible through the soaked material. “-Mercy of whomever should find you?” he finished.

You felt your cheeks going red, in spite of the chilly rain running down your skin. “It was my choice, I assure you,” you explained. “I insisted he allow me the chance to take some air, alone, on my journey home. I had not expected…” Your voice wavered, words failing you as Lord Bridgerton’s penetrating gaze made you weak.

“The rain?” he offered, an eyebrow lifted in amusement. “Understandable, Miss (Y/N). It seems I’ve found you absolutely drenched.” His eyes scanned your breasts and back up to your face.

Anthony tilted his head, acknowledging your ankle. You hadn’t noticed, but you’d been keeping your full weight off of it on purpose. “Your ankle,” he said, his tone sympathetic. “Is it sprained? You seem hesitant to apply pressure to it.”

“I twisted it on a raised root,” you explained. “It is not badly sprained. More of a discomfort, really-.”

“Regardless,” Lord Bridgerton interrupted. “Leaving you to manage on your own would be unconscionable. I insist-.” He extended his hand for you. “-That you allow me the honor of delivering you home.”

There was no way around it; you had to accept the offer. Taking a soggy step forward, you reached for Anthony’s hand and allowed him to help you into the carriage.

Immediately, you felt embarrassed by the way your wet clothes were dripping all over the carriage’s interior. The horses’ hooves sounded, followed by the familiar tug as the carriage was pulled forward. You could feel the Viscount’s gaze resting on you, but were too afraid to meet it. You’d harbored feelings for him for years, and had often wondered what it would feel like to have his attention fixed solely on you, to be the object of his interest. Now that you were in exactly such a situation, all of the practiced lines you’d rehearsed in your daydreams had completely vanished.

You pressed your thighs together, a familiar ache blossoming between them…a tightening, throbbing sensation similar to your heartbeat. You weren’t sure what it was, this odd pleasure mixed with pain; but you always felt it when you were in Lord Bridgerton’s presence, and sometimes, it occurred while simply thinking of him. You’d come to associate the feeling with Anthony, loving the sensation even as it frightened you. Not unlike your feelings for the Viscount himself.

“You needn’t worry about making a mess,” he remarked, and you froze. Because for a moment, you worried Anthony knew of what accompanied the feeling…the clear, slippery fluid that inevitably wound up wetting your inner thighs, whenever you thought of him.

He pointed to the seat across from him, which you were sitting on. Panic seized you, till you realized he was obviously speaking of the mess your rain-soaked clothing was making inside the carriage.

Your cheeks went rosy and warm again. Anthony noticed, and smiled slightly, as if holding onto a sweet secret that pleased him. “Upholstery can be mended,” he explained. “And on the subject of things that need mending…”

Anthony reached forward, taking hold of your injured ankle and lifting your foot to rest on his lap. Your eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. What could he possibly be thinking, touching you in such an intimate way?

You watched his fingers as they gently undid the laces of your boot. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a wicked glimmer reflecting back at you. Anthony removed your boot, and delicately rolled the lace cuff of your sock downward, exposing your ankle. When his fingertips brushed your skin, the contact of his touch went straight to the aching space between your legs, as if a line were somehow connecting those parts of you.

A shiver ran through your body, your hips bucking as Anthony softly stroked your skin, coaxing his finger lower, till he was cradling your foot in his hand. Every subtle movement of his fingertips sent a flash of heat straight to your center, setting you ablaze with something you’d never felt before. The familiar throbbing between your legs was suddenly burning, the pleasure mixed with a pain that kept increasing, as if demanding some kind of release, though you didn’t know how to relieve it.

Anthony watched you with an unbearable intensity-could he not see that you were unwell?-his smile long departed and replaced with something darker, almost hungry, like the focus of a predator locked in on its prey. Your body jolted as if struck. Anthony observed your behavior in stoic silence-was he angry with you?-all the while continuing to delicately stroke your skin, as if he couldn’t see the way your body was completely overcome by his simple, tender ministrations. Tears burned behind your eyes as the ache within you throbbed harder and harder, pulsing in time with your racing heartbeat. You gripped the edge of your seat, your eyes squeezing shut, air leaving your body in gasps.

You realized you must have been dying…surely, there was no other way to explain this frenzy that had overtaken you. But just as you were sure you were dying…you were flying. The world went white in your field of vision, as the tension inside your lower body finally gave way. A brand new feeling, of absolute rapture and inexplicable bliss, pulsed at your core in waves, rippling and shattering its way through you. Relief washed over you, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin, chest heaving as you recovered from whatever beautiful, brutal attack your body had just endured.

Your eyes opened on Anthony, whose expression was even more intense than before. Certain that you’d upset him with your embarrassing fit, a sudden shame humbled you. “Forgive me, Lord Bridgerton,” you panted, tears welling in your eyes. “I am unwell. I do not know what came over me just now, but I must apologize for my intemperate behavior...”

Anthony’s expression softened, unlike his lap, which now felt stiff and uneven beneath your ankle. He cleared his throat, before assuring you that “everything is alright, (Y/N).” Hearing your name leave his lips, your first name and not your family name, was like hearing an angel speak. “You’ve done nothing wrong. And I promise, you are not unwell.” Lord Bridgerton’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “Quite the opposite, in fact,” he said.

“But-.” You watched as he rolled your sock back over your ankle. “-I must be ill, my Lord-.” Anthony slid your boot back over your foot. “-Or perhaps a demon momentarily seized hold of me-??” Anthony chuckled slightly, his eyes on the laces of your boot as he fixed them. “-I must rest,” you decided. “To make sure this doesn’t happen again...”

Anthony bit his lip and grinned. “Well,” he conceded. “Perhaps you’re right. Some time in bed might be just what you need…” Anthony leaned forward and took your hand in his. “…In case that frightful feeling returns.”

Your lips parted, his nearness an alarming reminder of the feeling he conjured within you, the aching pulse between your slippery thighs reigniting. “I…” You tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come, not with his hand holding yours, his lips so near to your skin-

-A rapping on the carriage lurched you from the trance you’d fallen in. You hadn’t even noticed that the carriage had stopped moving. A driver opened the door for you, offering his hand to help you out. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, exiting the carriage. “I’m so grateful for your assistance today.”

Anthony nodded politely, a warm smile on his face. “It was my pleasure, Miss (Y/N),” he said, and as you turned toward your home, “I’ll call on you later this week, to see how you’re recovering.”

You felt your heart rate kick up a notch. “…from your sprained ankle, Miss (Y/N),” Anthony clarified, though the suggestive glimmer in his eye implied otherwise. You watched as his carriage retreated, starting on unsteady legs into your home. Your dress was still soaked, wet with rain and something else…something only Anthony Bridgerton was able to conjure in you, the product of a secret it now seemed the two of you shared, together… 🩵

PART TWO

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alicentofhightower · 10 months ago

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the cost of a dragon

pairing: addam velaryon x wife!reader

synopsis: addam is covered in cuts and scrapes from falling and running in the forest, and now you must take care of him.

includes: fluff, episode 6 heavy spoilers, probably historically inaccurate w some parts but we’re just gonna Let That Slide, not proofread again oops

wc: 1.3k

a/n: i love him so bad. rn my top 3 tb characters are rhaenyra rhaena and addam. he’s so sweet!! i really hope we get to see a lot more of him in the next few episodes

Addam is bewildered when he returns to your home, panting, eyes wide and mouth agape. You’ve never seen him like this, but you guess that it’s the dragon laying beside your house that’s done it.

“What’s happened?” You exclaim when you see the way he’s stumbled in, bleeding from a cut on his cheek.

“…The, the dragon,” He mumbles, locked hair spilling over his shoulders. Addam walks over to where you stand by the kitchen table, hands gently grasping your forearms, as yours do his, thumbs running over your skin to ground himself. He smells strange, like something otherworldly. Could it have been because of the beast outside your door?

“It came to me, followed me through the woods by the shore. I think I’ve claimed him. Yes, that’s what I’ve done. I must go.” Addam attempts to retract himself from your grip, but to no avail.

The pots and pans inside rattle when the silver creature lay its head on the yard outside, no doubt resting from its flight. “Please, my love,” Addam insists. “I need to go and see the queen myself. She is in need of more dragons herself, is she not? If I serve her, perhaps she will allow you and I to live at Dragonstone with her. This is our chance.”

You shake your head, apron ruffling from the beach’s wind blowing through the window. Addam has always been ambitious, has always wanted the best for you and himself. He’s fiercely loyal to you, a quality that made you want to marry him in the first place.

“Addam.” Your hands fly up to cup his cheeks, stopping him from continuing on with his tangent. “You’re covered in gashes and dirt and sand. At least let me lend you a hand.”

He softens at that, jaw seeming to unclench. Addam’s brown eyes have always been expressive, and now they seem to look at you as if you’re the sweetest person he’s ever known. “…I suppose you’re right,” He mutters, “but we must make haste.”

Finally, you let go of each other. You use one of your hands to intertwine your fingers with his, and the other to grip your skirts as you lead him to your room. It’s small and modest, mostly swallowed up by the bed you share. “Sit,” You say, almost commandingly, quickly fetching a spare piece of cloth by the tub in the main room and a bowl of water.

Addam’s eyes almost glint at the way you flounce about before him. He spreads his legs so you are able to stand between them, chin tilting up so he can make eye contact with you while you fix him up.

“Let me see.”

He holds out his right arm, palm up, covered in tiny scratches and sand from his poor attempt to escape from his new dragon. Seasmoke, he remembers. Addam squeezes your right hand lightly while the other cleans him up.

You barely manage to suppress a heavy scoff at the mess in front of you, but you dab gently at it with the towel anyway, soaked with water. “What did you do?” You ask, brows knitting together. “Did you try to run from it?”

“Yes,” He admits, face scrunching together at the fresh memory. You’ve told him to be careful of the sky-beasts constantly looming over the two of you, and he knows he’ll be scolded for trying to escape the damn thing.

You shake your head, mostly to yourself, and Addam’s shoulders deflate. “Well, what would you have done?” He asks, exasperated. “My apologies for wanting to come home to you tonight.”

You pinch his arm. “I only worry for you,” You say, voice soft. Addam and his brother, Alyn, are the only family you’ve left; you’d never known your father, and your sweet mother had died of a fever shortly after your seventeenth nameday. She hadn’t been able to last, to see you wed the man you love so dearly.

“…What will you say, when you see Queen Rhaenyra? She may think you are coming as a foe, to battle rather than service.”

Addam hisses as you brush against a particularly deep cut, eyes squeezing shut. “Sorry,” You say, and he only tips your interlaced fingers up to his lips and kisses the back of your hand.

Your husband pauses after he lets your hands back down, considering the weight of whatever his words to the Black Queen will mean. He almost thinks of it as a duty, to you and his brother. To further your ever so small family.

“I suppose the words will come to me when it happens.” He swallows harshly, eyes averted from yours, darting around like he’s telling himself to fucking think.

You’ve moved onto his other arm, now, and suddenly the odor of him has become unbearable. It’s nothing like anything you’ve smelled before.

Grimacing, you drop the washcloth and cover your nose with your hand, taking a step back. “What?” questions Addam, clearly confused. “What’s the matter?”

“Gods, you fucking stink. What is that?”

Addam laughs. He laughs, tension seeping out of him as he does. “It must be the dragon,” He claims, reaching out to grab your waist and pull you back towards him. “Don’t mind it, please.”

You’re unable to fight the smile you feel blooming, because despite the fact that your husband reeks of his new dragon sleeping outside your home, and your feet are sore from walking to the markets, only to find nothing, and your nerves are set ablaze thinking of his meeting with Rhaenyra, Addam is here. He’s here with you, holding you, safe in the comfort of your humble little home.

The feeling is fleeting, only settling in you for a moment, but you tip your head down to press a kiss to his mouth. “You must be vigilant,” You plead when you pull away, ignoring the way Addam’s lips seem to chase after yours. “And you must return to me. I do not know what I would do if I were to lose you.”

“I will be. I swear it.”

You brush away the dried blood on his cheek with the cloth, frowning. “We should leave, shouldn’t we? Fly to Essos, where we will be safe without the threat of war. That dragon is large enough to saddle three, isn’t it? We can go-“

A thumb soothingly presses against your lips, silencing you. “…If I can put the thing to use, it will strengthen us. Strengthen whatever I have with my father.”

Addam had always been desperate to get the same attention from Lord Corlys that Alyn had always seemed to receive after he’d saved the man. You’d never spoken to the Lord Velaryon yourself before, but it was hard to miss the way he’d stare at you when you visited your husband in the shipyard, almost melancholically.

“I do not care for jewels and gowns and for you to be gilded in glory, Addam,” You state, pushing his wrist away from your face. “I care for you. Should we not go now? I could find your brother.”

“No.” He shakes his head, standing from the bed, now towering over you. His fingers, callused from his seemingly never-ending work on Lord Corlys’s ship, caress your waist almost reverently.

Almost every inch of your skin heats up when Addam leans down to kiss your chest, right where your heart is. The skin is covered by the sea-blue gown you wear, a white apron tied about your waist, and you shudder at the feel of his lips on such an intimate spot.

He kisses up from your bosom to your mouth again, firm and sweet and longing. There’s no guarantee you’ll ever see him again, but some strange part of you feels that all will be well. It’s a naive thought, perhaps, but one you welcome nonetheless.

“I will come back to you,” He promises, voice rasping. “I love you.”

#hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #addam velaryon x reader #addam of hull x reader #addam velaryon fluff #addam of hull fluff #hotd fluff #house of the dragon fluff #team black x reader #the blacks x reader

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etfrin · 1 year ago

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❝ ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ higher with my lover — coriolanus snow ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ ❞

☆　Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), riding, handjob, mentions of blood & blood sucking, Capitol! Reader, reader is mentioned to be a virgin, mentions of poison and death, district+lucy gray slander (necessary to the plot), mention of Sejanus, degradation & praise kink if you squint, dry humping | lmk if I missed anything!

☆　Pairing: fem! Reader x young! peacekeeper! Coriolanus Snow

☆　Summary: Lucy Gray left but you find him in the forest instead and shit goes down

☆　A/N: this fic is inspired by the fact that i imagined myself to be the one sucking the 'poisoned bite' and be like now we both die and i like you lmao, i hope you guys like it!

Ps. This is the official canon ending :D

Ps². Listened to this song mainly to write the smut, so i am just gonna leave it here. . .

| masterlist | taglist | bc: @cafekitsune |

“Lucy Gray! Are you trying to kill me!?”

Coriolanus Snow yelled as he kept pointing the gun in random directions. It wasn't long after that he began shooting in the sky causing the murder of numerous mockingjays up in the air.

He had found the necklace, he had found the scarf. She left. She was a loose end. She needs to die, fucking die so Snow could have the life he deserved. The life he worked for, the life he was entitled to since birth. The life of a Snow.

“Lucy Gray! We can talk about this!” He yells out, “Just come out!” But Lucy Gray was nowhere to be found, as if she was a ghost. As if she was the Lucy Gray from the song, a mystery to never be found.

He pointed his gun in the direction where he heard the sound of a twig snapping. It wasn't Lucy Gray but you. Your eyes were wide, chest heaving as you slowly walked towards him with your hands raised. “Coryo,” you whispered, scared, your feet walking towards him with hesitation but never flattering.

He had no idea how you had found him. He wasn't sure why you were either here. It was already too much for him that Sejanus came (and now he is dead, dead, dead. The third person he had killed). And you followed him too, pulling in favors, deciding to be a medic along with Sejanus, serving time with your best friends (not his, he never considered you or Sej as his friend).

“Where's Lucy Gray!?” He yelled, walking towards you, gun still pointed. It makes you walk backward until your back hits the hard bark of a tree. The rough texture of the bark is uncomfortable due to your thin shirt. You scrunch your nose at the mention of her. You never liked her much. He didn't know why but perhaps it was all a ruse just for this very moment. This very betrayal from her.

“How would I know?” You scoffed, the haughty attitude of a Capitol citizen coming through despite having a gun pointed at you. He pressed the end of the gun at your chest. “Tell me the truth,” he growled. “That girl tried to poison me. Tell me where she is!”

“I don't know,” you hiss back, your eyes ablaze. “And get the gun out of my face. You should be heading to a fucking medic right now. Are you sure she poisoned you?” Your voice was now laced with concern, eyes softening as you looked at him, his t-shirt clinging to him with sweat, his cheeks flushed, eyes so wide that the blues were hidden with black instead.

Coryo gets the gun away from you to put his arm forward. Showing you his snake bite, the puncture wound oozing out beads of red blood on his snow-like skin. “It's probably non-poisonous,” you said, trying to sound optimistic.

“No, it's not!” He growls, and anger fills in every movement and word of his. “She's trying to kill me. She's district! I shouldn't have- shouldn't have-” You hold his arm, your fingers around his wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

“It's fine,” you whispered, trying your best that the tone you use with him is soft and gentle. You want to shake him out of the mental breakdown that was happening. He shakes his head and you press your fingertips into the wound.

“It's fine,” you whispered, “let's get you back. Come on.” You try to urge him forward, only for him to pull himself out of your grasp. “No! I need to find her. She's a loose end. She will tell. She's a snake, not a songbird,” he rambles.

Despite the confusion you felt with his words, you grit your teeth. “Come on, Coryo! We need to head back,” you said, your hand on his wrist, trying to drag him out of the middle of the green forest.

“No! We need to find her out before the poison works” he yells, pulling you back and pushing you. Pinning you effectively between him and a tree.

You glare at him before a moment of impulsivity takes over you. You take his arm, your mouth around the bleeding wound and you suck letting whatever ‘poisoned blood’ onto your tongue. His eyes widen as he sees the redness of his blood now painting your lips. “Now can we go back?” You said as you licked the blood clean. “Because if it's poison, we will both die.”

“Why would-” he visibly freezes. He doesn't want your blood on his hands. No- it would be on Lucy's hands. It's her fault. Everything is her fault. “Why would you do that?” He whispered, leaning closer to you, his face now mere inches away from yours. It was like he was seeing you for the first time. Like he never saw you for you until now. Someone like him. Unhinged (not that he's willing to admit it).

He hooks his fingers under your chin, holding your jaw and tilting your lips towards his. His eyes were searching for sanity but seemed to have found none as a smile (filled with insanity) spread on his face. “You're crazy,” he whispered, “Are you that desperate?”

“Desperate for your well-being, Coryo,” you whispered, hating the fact that your gaze fell on his soft-looking lips. “I don't know what's wrong, Coriolanus. But come with me, let's go back. Lucy Gray isn't worth anything.”

“Lucy Gray is worth everything!” He yelled, pressing his body with yours, pain in your bones flaring as he without noticing crushed you.

“I am sure she will have poison for you too. I am sure she will come back then,” you spit out. You felt outrageous at his behavior. “She ran, didn't she? To the North. You gonna go there too, Coryo?” you questioned, your eyes now meeting his. You try to find an answer but find something deeply tangled instead, neither a yes or a no.

You never felt such pity for Coriolanus Snow before as you did now. You put your palm on his cheek. “Come with me,” you said, softening your voice. “Back to the peacekeepers, the general told me about District 2 and I can put in favors so we can be back in the Capitol in no time.”

“You didn't choose Sejanus,” you whispered, the mention of Sej causing him to freeze. “Choose me,” you plead, feeling pathetic for being reduced to this. But it was for your Coryo so it was worth it. Wasn't it?

A chip from the bird makes him look away but you use your hand to make him face you again. Tears begin to pool in your eyes. You find your heart preparing itself for a rejection. “Choose me,” you choke out, a sob in your throat ready to come out when he says no, no, no Lucy Gray it is, never you.

You wait and wait for the rejection, your eyelids closing themselves so he doesn't see himself (or the way you looked at him with love) in the reflective tears. “Look at me,” he whispered, feeling his hot breath on your lips now. And you didn't want to listen but your eyes opened back up, light coming in and he's in your sight.

All glorious as you always thought of Snow.

Snow lands on top.

Haven't every Capitol child learned that from history? You were no exception. And you never planned to be. Even after finding out the truth about his situation, you never thought less of him, if anything everything you felt about him increased tenfold without your consent. Oh, how you should hate him. Oh, but how much you love him.

He leaned in and you didn't move. He stops for a mere second as if reconsidering his decision. But then decided to fuck it because the next thing you know his lips against yours.

He tasted like cheap alcohol, he tasted like ruin and danger. You ate it all up by parting your lips so his tongue could slip in. You let out a moan as his teeth bite into your lips. For a moment you think he's a snake and that he's the one poisoning you. His poison is more potent than an actual snake’s ever could be.

You were simple prey, that's it. Instead of a bullet, he was shooting your heart with a kiss. And it was working because in the future he will be the end of you. A slow, slow poison, he controlled the kiss despite the way his tongue slid against yours was clumsy but so perfect.

You kissed him back to the best of your abilities, wondering briefly if you tasted like the pastry you had in the morning. You let him take your bottom lip between his teeth to suck and bite however he wants. Your hands find his buzz cut instead of his golden curls and a whine leaves your lips from the frustration of the loss.

Your hand is on his nape and another is still on his cheek as neither of you breaks the kiss. It didn't matter that you were getting lightheaded. It didn't matter that you could feel your heartbeat increasing due to lack of oxygen. He was everything, you would be damned if you broke the kiss.

You gasp as the kiss is broken. You stare into his eyes, searching for something, anything. But you find nothing but ice blue. It sent chills down your spine but at least he had calmed down now. “Feeling better?” You asked and you got a rough nod as a reply.

“Come on, we have work to do,” he whispered as he pulled back. His dog tag dangles as he begins to walk towards the cabin again, navigating the path with his father's compass.

You find the cabin and the guns. Coriolanus looks at you waiting for a protest, disgust, expecting you to run away just like Lucy Gray. You didn't do anything except sigh, your shoulder wearing down as you realized the truth of it all. You didn't say a word but your hand finds his. He doesn't say anything either but squeezes your hand back. An unspoken promise. He had chosen you. You had chosen him. You were in this together now.

There's no going back.

Both of you row the boat and let the guns sink into the river, never to be found again. You find your way back to the cabin, the rain pouring down again. You sit beside Snow- no, no, still Coryo. Always Coryo. Your head on his shoulder, your knees pressed to your chest as you hear the tip tap of rain outside.

Not a single sound is made. But as time passes and the rain doesn't stop, you begin to crave his lips again. As if that one kiss was morphine, and you needed more to heal the ache of your soul. “Coriolanus,” you whispered.

“Coryo,” he reprimanded softly, his tone enticing as if he was trying to bewitch. You feel your palms sweat as embarrassment begins to nag your mind. You blurt it out before you can think about how pathetic you sound.

“Can I have another kiss, Coryo?”

The next few moments were a blur. Lips on lips. Clumsily tongues meeting each other and whining into each other's mouths. You were shamelessly grinding on Coryo's lap as your lips continued to stay locked with his. “I want you so bad,” you admit as you feel his cock harden underneath you.

“Since the academy,” you whispered against his lips, a moan escaping your lips when he held your hips and began to guide them to grind on his completely hard bulge.

“Oh, yeah?” He mocks, “It's pretty fucking obvious.” He choked off a groan coming out of his mouth, “You're willing to let go of the fact that I am a murderer, huh?” You let out a whimper as he mentioned that. But both of you knew the answer to that, a part of you knew what kind of predator he was. Ever since you knew about how he killed a tribute, you just called it. It never mattered to you how horrible he could be or in this case, is.

“Yes, yes,” you moan into his mouth. Was it an answer or a mere whine about how perfect the friction felt against your pantie-soaked pussy? You didn't know but Coriolanus thought of it as the former. “You gonna be my girl, then? A capitol princess being a peacekeepers’ doll to fuck,” he whispered, his tongue licking a strip of skin on your neck.

You moan as his teeth begin to harshly assault your skin, covering your neck with marks. “Yes,” you gasp, “as long as it's you.” God, how much more pathetic could you be? But it didn't matter, it got him higher and fed his ego after everything that had happened. He loved it and perhaps, he could grow to love you.

Not in the way, Coryo loved Lucy Gray but in the way Snow would love his First Lady.

Your hands tug off his wet t-shirt and throw it on the floor. His hands do the same with your peacekeeper's uniform. He grabs your hips, squeezing the plump of flesh there, his mouth panting into you and he looks at you with dilated eyes.

Time seems to have slowed down as you touch his dog tag, your fingers tracing the name carved into the metal. “I want this. You, right now, right here,” you whispered like it was the biggest secret of your life. “Do you?” You ask as your hands go lower to fiddle with the zipper of his pants.

He doesn't give you a verbal answer, only pulling you into another kiss with his fingers woven into your hair in a fist as his free hand goes down below to free his cock from the confines of his trousers.

You grip his length, stroking it and squeezing out pearly pre-cum from the tip. You savor the deep groan that leaves his lips. “Fuck… just like that, doll,” he instructed and you obey. Your strokes get faster and his pre becomes natural lube as you continue. He lets out a hiss when you twist your wrist and his hand snares around your wrist. “Wanna cum in your cunt first,” he said, breathless from the ecstasy of having your hands on him.

Within moments the remaining clothes on both of you were scattered around the cabin. You moan into his mouth, your fingers desperately clawing at his shoulders as you begin to grind your soaking wet pussy against his hard cock. You gasp, elated by how your folds pressed against his length, his cockhead being teased by your slit but unable to breach the threshold.

The kisses you shared with him were sloppy. Saliva coating his chin as neither of you was willing to separate your lips for a single unnecessary moment. You knew your lips would hurt by the end of this, that they were swollen and the inside of it bleeding because of how insistently his teeth loved to bite your lower lip. He was no better either. You tasted more blood from the kisses now than anything, and it didn't matter to you because somehow the salty, rusty taste felt like just him.

You let out a sound unfitting of a Capitol-raised woman when his cockhead slips inside your gummy walls. His tip now profusely leaks pre-cum inside your gummy walls. You pulled back, biting your lower lip to stop the whimper as you feel his cockhead stretching out your virgin walls.

“That's it, dove,” he lets out, all needy and heated. His hands squeeze your hips to be encouraging as you let yourself down on his cock slowly. “Take it all in. You can do it, doll,” he whispered, as his eyes were down looking at his length entering you, being surrounded by the wicked, addicting warmth of your tight cunt.

“I can?” You let out a whine, as the pain bleeds into the pleasure, the ratio of it throwing you off the dizzy full lust. He hums in encouragement as you finally fill yourself with his dick to the hilt. Your slick walls pulsate around his length.

“Atta girl,” he smiles at you, his eyes brightening up from how well you took him and without any complaints whatsoever. “That's a good slut,” he whispered and smirked when he felt your walls clench around him deliciously.

You tried to move your hips but gave up when the burn made your eyes water. He coos at you encouragingly, telling you to adjust to his girth first. He wasn't going to rut into you like a dog, you're a Capitol girl, not a district whore. He wasn't going to disrespect you like that, no matter how much he wanted you to begin rolling your hips.

So your lips latch onto his neck, while your arms are around him and your legs around his waist. You were clinging to him, as if afraid that if you ease up in your grip he will fade away from your life, from this moment and your reality together. The smell of sex and sweat begins to become stronger than the smell of gunpowder as you continue to give him hickeys in various places on his skin.

Coriolanus doesn't complain that you're marking him like this, not when he's doing the same task with his tongue tracing the love bites his teeth left. And you suspect he rather enjoys when you bite, as his cock twitches whenever your teeth dig into his flesh as if you're eating and your wet tongue licks over the bite as if you're tasting the flavor of his skin.

When you're finally comfortable with his cock being inside the most intimate part of you. You slowly but surely begin to make small, shallow thrusts that have you gasping, your eyes rolling back with how good it feels already because he was fucking into your g-spot with every roll of your hips. The thrusts were teasing, it had him groaning praises of you being a good girl and his hold tightening over your hips, surely leaving bruises.

You begin to relish the feeling of being stuffed, his cockhead kissing your cervix when you get the angle just right. Your folds coat him with your creamy juices, a ring of white forming on his base with how wet you were. Slowly but surely the pleasure begins to build up, your nails digging into his shoulders as you start to put up force with the way you rock back and forth on his cock.

You pant into his mouth, your lips letting out sharp moans when his dick strokes your walls just right. He lets you control the pace, his mouth busy latching onto your nipple to suck. His tongue swirls around the bud, hardening it inside his mouth and he nips your nipple just to have you jolt from the bite and squeeze down on his cock.

One of his hands now kneads the other breast he wasn't giving much attention to, his fingers rolling the nipple, pinching the bud, and playing with it. His other hand goes between your bodies and finds your clit. You soon realize he was working with a pattern that was driving you insane, turning your cunt into a hotter slicker mess.

When he swirled his tongue around your nipple, his fingers did roll the other bud. Meanwhile, his thumb would drive small, rapid circles onto your swollen bundle of nerves. When he bit into your nipple, his fingers pinched your clit making you gasp with thunderous pleasure filling your veins.

He continues at this and tension begins to build up in your tummy. You close your eyes as animalistic instincts begin to take over your body. The need to cum overrides everything else as you begin to roll your hips faster and harder. Desperate to cum around his cock for the first time of many times in your life. He feels the same way because he encourages you with his hips bucking into you, thrusting perfectly inside of your slick walls.

“So close, Coryo!” You moan, your nails leaving red lines in their path on his shoulders. He latches off your breasts to whisper, “Cum then, my slut. Let me feel you milk my cock like a good cockwhore would.” You let out a louder moan at his words. His condescending tone snaps the tension that had formed in your tummy, you begin to cum.

Your pussy spasming around his cock, triggering his orgasm. He empties his balls inside of you without any hesitation, filling you up with his thick, hot cum. “That's a good girl. Look how well you took me. Look at the cum leaking out, dove,” his tone teasing, like many times he has teased in classes but the context of this was entirely different.

You look down, your pussy clenching around his cock again when you see his seed ooze out of you. Your body slumps into him, tired from all of this. Both mentally and physically. The storm was still going on. You lay in his arms, his cum now coating the insides of your thighs.

“You're smarter than Lucy Gray,” he said, “I pray you know better than to run. I won't miss the next time.”

You shake your head, trying to hide the smile forming on your face. Others would have run from his words, anyone sane would. Lucy Gray did after all. But you were just you.

“If I wanted to run, I wouldn't have found you in the first place,” you whispered, sealing your words with a soft kiss on his lips.

Current tag list: @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @dollfacedalls @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @randomstuff2040 @justacaliforniandreamer @emmalinemalfoy @hyuk4s @theamuz @watercolorskyy @littlebiwitchsworld @eir964

@skywalker1dream @darkangelkathiecookiesmith @ben-has-arrived @bucksdonkey @xyzstar @ellie-luvsfics @sunny-deary @daughter1of2anita3dearly @eir964 @nowsyhozey @ayaya-aa @serving-targaryen-realness @hansbasement @louweasleymalfoy @lettersandwhiteroses @arzua10 @wotcherpeak @ever8ea @daughter-of-the-stars11 @blippys-blog @iguanagwen @moonlight-by-the-sea @snowlandstop @badbleep88 @hobireasns @floswife @weeeoosworld @ludasgf

@sushirolliee @poppyflower-22 @dilucpegg3r @sleepysongbirdsings @cupids-scream-queen @fyhhuu

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siempre-bucky · 11 months ago

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what am i to you?

Qimir x Reader

Summary: You decide to leave Qimir, thinking your feelings are one-sided till an encounter with the Jedi Order proves otherwise.

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: she/her pronouns, mentions of blood

A/N: I hope you like it Anon <3! Requests are still open for Qimir!

“What am I to you, Qimir?” You asked him as you placed your hood over your head, your small bag placed at the side of you, “Whore? Helper? Companion? What other names do you use to describe me to your Acolytes?”

“This is new for you, my dear,” he chuckled, amused as if you were a child trying to use big words. You were never the one to bite back, you would normally happily accept your role as his right hand. Not now, the years of trying to convince yourself he loved you had your patience growing thin.

“You don’t get to call me that, you seethed. “I’m leaving, Qimir. I can’t be here, knowing you don’t feel the same. I’ll never be more than whatever this is.”

The Sith stayed silent after that, he merely watched as you accepted your defeat and picked up your things to disappear in the night.

Tears fell as you walked through the forest, trying to expel memories of late night tangled in sheets and days of trips to the beaches of his favorite planet. He showed you all those wonderful things and touched you in a way you could only imagine, only for it to mean nothing. You wasted years on him.

Something suddenly felt off, the hair on the back of your neck began to rise and the forest grew silent. Someone was there with you in the forest. A small smile tugged at your lips, he came back for you! You turned around and smiled at the figure that stood in the trees. About to tease him, the figure reached for his belt, a lightsaber igniting. Yellow?

Before you had the chance to run, the Force knocked you to the ground roughtly. The figure grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet. The man frowned “You’re the Force wielder?” he questioned.

“N-no!” You cried, punching at his arm.

“The Order keeps sending you to die,” a third voice entered the space, and you could recognize that distorted tone from anywhere.

The Jedi swiftly turned the two of you to face the Sith standing a few feet away. Dressed in his helmet and cloak, Qimir watched as the Jedi released your hair and placed you in a chokehold with his free arm. The other turned off the saber and placed it on your temple, the heat of the metal making you cry out.

This Jedi wasn’t like the rest of the ones the Order sent after Qimir, there was something in his eye that screamed rogue. “You either surrender,” the Jedi panted, tightening his grip on your throat and his saber pressing harder to your temple, “or I kill your… Acolyte? Is that what she is to you?”

“Those are words of a Sith, Jedi, are you sure you’re not on the wrong side?” The Stranger spoke calmly, his voice distorted by his mask. He couldn’t see the fear in your eyes or how the Jedi was starting to bleed from you digging your nails into his forearms.

You wish you could read him, be able to get inside his head, and know what he’s thinking one last time. Maybe he had some compassion for you because love was out of the question. He was here to kill you before you could get away. The Jedi pressed harder, the metal cutting into your skin. You screamed in pain and he laughed? Amused at what was going on.

This was it. You heard his finger slide to the trigger.

Qimir.

I love you.

If there’s an afterlife I wish for something kinder.

You heard the ignition of a lightsaber, and in an instant the grip on your throat released. Then there was a thud, the crunch of leaves and snapping of twigs followed after. You fell to the floor and curled into a ball, heaving for air. Were you dead? Was this the afterlife you were just praying to the Maker for? “Get up,” the distorted voice commanded. You crawled a couple of inches and sat up, pushing your hair out of your face and looking behind you.

Lying on the ground was the Jedi, a red lightsaber right through the center of his head. Your eyes widened and the last of the tears flowed from your eyes. You watched as Qimir called his saber back to his hand, a perfect circle left in its wake. He pulled you up by the shoulder and hurried you back towards the hideout.

You walked hurriedly in silence, looking back at the deep forest every now and then to make sure you weren’t followed by anyone else. The Jedi Order had been desperate to capture him since the murder of that one Jedi on Udea. Qimir kept a tight grip on your wrist, you didn’t dare to pull away since he was the only thing keeping you alive.

That silence remained when you got to the small cabin. He whipped off the mask and threw it violently into the corner. Your body stilled, wondering if you were in for a worse fate than with the Jedi. Qimir killed violently, he’d kill anyone. You were nothing special. Not to him.

He turned to you with fire raging in his eyes, they only softened slightly when he saw the blood trickling from your head, a few drops of crimson landing on your chest. He extended his hand, a small wooden box rushing towards him. He caught it effortlessly and sat on the makeshift bed. “Sit.”

You did as you were told and took a seat by his side. He went to work bandaging your wound, but you noticed something. Why didn’t he just heal it using the Force? Why was he taking the time for something so futile for a Sith? You also noticed his fingers trembling as he picked up the small scissors among the supplies. He made it halfway to your head before he shakily dropped them into your lap, the fabric of your cloak delicately breaking the fall. Your hands connected as you both reached out to collect them.

Qimir let go of the scissors and held your hand. “Are you ok?” he asked, all bite vacant in his tone.

“I think so,” you nodded.

Silence filled the air, and you could feel his stare burn into your skin. He just went back to work, dabbing at the blood and cleaning your skin of dirt and blood. You nearly begged him to say something, anything to release you from the choking silence.

After the job was done, Qimir stood and collected his supplies, putting everything away silently. Your gaze followed him, you had always wondered how he could act so calm in these situations, you almost admired it. Then he stood in the center of the room, his shoulders hunched and his gaze lingered on the ground, analyzing the cracks in the wood.

“I didn’t know they we—”

“—I love you.”

I love you. Those words sounded so foreign to him, he had spoken them once, before the Order and before they took him away. It had been so long—too long. He was embarrassed that it took that long to say to you. Qimir had learned his lesson.

You stood up, the wood creaking below you as you closed some distance between you. “Why tell me now? When I’m about to die at the hands of the Jedi.”

“I should have told you a long time ago,” he jumped in, his hands flexing, “I heard your thoughts, your pleas. I’m sorry.”

You lifted your chin, “What am I to you, Qimir?” You asked him the same question as earlier, this time you had no fight left.

The Sith raised his hand and connected it to the side of your face, “I think they would have called it a soulmate?” He pulled you in closer, “I should have never let you feel differently.”

“Never do that again,” you said bitterly, jabbing your finger into his chest.

He pressed his lips to your forehead, letting his eyes flutter closed, “Never.”

#qimir #qimir x reader #qimir x you #the acolyte #star wars

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werecreature-addicted · 1 year ago

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u once brought up coyotes and i’ve been hooked ever since 😭😭

so how about a cute sexy coyote who’s been seducing the big bad alpha wolf for so long it got so frustrating that he lets it out on her for days (poor baby can’t walk anymore, can she) idk he eventually wifes her up 😂 a cute lovely ending

love uuu and thanks in advance !

Coyotes really aren't all that different from wolves, they move in packs, they hunt similar prey, and the mating seasons are at the same time of year. So really was it that big of a deal that you were hunting on werewolf territory? No right? you were basically cousins. well, that's what you thought at least, and you were wrong.

The alpha of the pack had caught you sniffing around. you had been warned many many times that wolves didn't tolerate completion on their hunting grounds and killed silly coyotes who got too close hunting for rabbits. now here you were darting through the forest as fast as you could with snapping jaws right on your tail. He's already chased you out of the werewolf territory it's not fair why is he still chasing you? no fair no fair no fair.

he catches you, knocking you to the ground and rolling with you through the grass, he lands on top of you his chest to your back. his big hands pinning your wrists. his knees pinning down your legs so you can't kick him. you struggle, but he's so much stronger than you that the act is basically pointless. You buck your hips back trying to knock him off, he lets out a muffled grunt, then a snarl as your ass pushes back against his crotch.

For some reason, this stirred something inside of you, this isn't so different from the play wrestling male Coyotes did as courting. a warmth spreads in your belly. you were still scared, especially with his sharp teeth hovering over your neck ready to rip your throat out. but there was something else string in you. you had been pinned, face down ass up by a strong powerful male with his groin pressing against you, and your heat was starting to hit because of it. you hated how good this felt.

"I'll let you off with a warning if you don't come back," he growled, his voice as deep and low, you wanted to tell him yes you'd be good, please spare your life, but what came out instead was a low moan as you pushed back against him not trying to escape this time. his nostril flared.

"did you go into heat?" he no longer sounds angry but more, surprised.

"I'll never come back if you just fuck me, let me cum," you pant. he growls again, but you can feel him grind against you, matching the roll of your hips.

"Brat. did you come here just so some wolf might pin you down and ruin your cute cunt? what are those coyote boys aren't big enough for you?" he snarls, you can feel his hardening cock against your behind he was bigger than any coyote you'd fucked before. you'd never been so horny before in your life, it's not even going to fit inside of you this big werewolf cock is going to split you right in half and you couldn't be happier.

"say it, say that this is what you wanted all along," he demands, teasing your pussy with the thick dip of his cock. you try to buck back and take his dick inside of you, he grabs the back of your head and shoves your face down in the grass forcing you to say in place. "Say it," he repeats.

"I just want your cock in me, it's all i want please please pl-" Your begging is cut off as his tick cock pushes inside of you. he's so big you feel like you can't breathe. the pain is delicious. you definitely won't be walking after this, you hope he and the rest of his pack take advantage of it.

#monster imagine #monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #werewolf #werewolf x reader #werewolves #werewolf boyfriend

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girllblogging777 · 29 days ago

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OLD HABITS

slytherin boys x gn!teacher reader (platonic)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 2k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : you graduated three years ago, but the slytherin boys still talk about you like a myth. now you’re back… as their professor.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you were a legend.

not in the grand, historical sense. not the type to be etched into portraits or remembered in dusty school records. no, yours was a different kind of legend. one passed around in whispers in the common room. in smoke trails drifting out from the edge of the astronomy tower. in escape routes down secret staircases no one else dared to use.

so when word spread through the great hall that you were back : alive, employed, and walking the halls as the new magical beasts professor, it caused the kind of silence that could only mean something big was coming.

theo was the first to break it.

“you’re joking.”

“nope,” said blaise, who had overheard one of the hufflepuff girls talking about how hot the new professor was. “apparently they walked in with a hippogriff and didn’t flinch when it tried to snap.”

mattheo leaned forward. “didn’t they teach us how to charm open the back entrance to the owlery?”

“no, that was fourth year,” muttered draco. “third year was the time they found that wine cellar under greenhouse three.”

“that was good wine,” said lorenzo, almost reverently. “and they shared it. with us.”

pansy raised a brow, amused. “I thought they’d disappeared into some forest job in eastern europe.”

“they did,” theo said. “came back with a scar and a lot more patience.”

“and now they’re teaching,” mattheo added, mostly to himself.

draco just smirked and folded his arms. “they better not act all serious and authoritative towards us.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you walked into your first class five minutes early, boots muddy, sleeves rolled up, a little bit of wind in your hair. the creatures for today’s lesson : bowtruckles, nothing dramatic, were already perched on your arm like old friends.

and very familiar faces were waiting for you.

some taller. some sharper around the edges. but still the same underneath.

you took them in : mattheo lounging at the back with that practiced look of boredom, theo twirling his quill lazily, draco sitting like he ran the school, blaise leaning back in his chair with that half-smile, and pansy pretending she wasn’t waiting for you to acknowledge her first.

your mouth twitched. “well. Look what the castle dragged in.”

mattheo’s eyes lit up instantly. “I knew it.”

you raised a brow, setting the bowtruckles gently on the desk. “did you miss me, riddle?”

he shrugged with zero shame. “you’re basically the reason we survived until fourth year.”

“I was more of a cautionary tale than anything.”

“you were our hero,” theo said bluntly.

“I taught you how to siphon firewhiskey out of Slughorn’s reserves once.”

“yup. that’s what i call a heroic act.”

you rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “right, sit up. eyes front. you’re not fourteen anymore.”

draco lifted a brow. “youu’re not that much older than us.”

“three years is a lifetime when you’re a teenage boy,” you said dryly.

they laughed, and for a second it felt like no time had passed at all.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the class was easy. you always had a knack for creatures and a talent for explaining things without sounding like a textbook. the bowtruckles behaved. the students (your old group especially) hung on your every word like they were waiting for you to pull a trick from your sleeve.

you didn’t. not yet at least.

but after class, when the rest of the students filtered out and the sky began to soften into gold, mattheo lingered.

he leaned against the side of your desk, arms folded, posture lazy but eyes bright.

“so,” he said. “you’re a professor now.”

“apparently.”

“didn’t see that coming. honestly? I figured you’d get arrested for breaking into the ministry. or disappear into a dragon preserve and send us mysterious postcards.”

“I almost did.”

mattheo laughed, low and real. you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed that sound.

you gave him a look, then jerked your head toward the door. “still use the second-floor corridor to sneak out after curfew?”

“of course,” he said. “your map still works.”

you blinked. “you still have my map?”

he looked smug. “theo kept it. said it was the closest thing we had to a holy text.

you shook your head, but warmth spread through your chest like firewhiskey. you hadn’t come back expecting much. maybe respect, maybe curiosity. but not this. this instant, easy pull back into the space you'd carved out years ago.

you were still part of them. in a way.

mattheo kicked at the floor with the toe of his boot, then said, more quietly, “it’s kind of weird, seeing you here. like… full circle or something.”

you nodded. “feels weird. but not bad.”

he glanced up at you again, and for just a second, he looked younger. not the too-cool seventh year with a devil-may-care grin, but the fourteen-year-old you once caught crying on the roof after a letter from home. the one you handed a cigarette to without asking questions, just sat next to until the shaking stopped.

and he remembered that. you could tell.

“I’m glad you’re back,” he said, softer now.

you just reached into your pocket, pulled out a lighter. the same beat-up one they all used to sneak from your satchel, and held it up between two fingers. mattheo’s face split into a grin. “you brought it.”

“old habits.”

he chuckled and took it, turning it over once in his hands before slipping it into his coat.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

that night, you found yourself walking the familiar path to the astronomy tower. out of curiosity, maybe. or memory.

and you weren't surprised to find them there : your slytherin crew, sprawled out under the stars like they used to be. someone had brought snacks. someone else had smuggled up firewhiskey. theo had dragged a blanket out, and Pansy had already claimed half of it.

“well,” blaise said, lifting his drink, “look who still knows the way.” mattheo just smiled and patted the space beside him.

you sat, and it was like nothing had changed, except everything had. you were older now. a professor. a mentor. anauthority figure.

but to them, you’d always be more than that.

you were the one who taught them how to live a little. to bend the rules without breaking. to find their own way. and now you were back. maybe that’s what real influence was : leaving a mark so deep, even time couldn’t wash it out.

as the night stretched on and the stars spun lazily above the castle, someone passed you a flask. you didn’t ask where it came from. just took a sip, and passed it back, and let the quiet laughter of your old shadows fill the air.

“I should be giving all of you detention, you know that ?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : first gender neutral reader fic, hope i did okay !!!

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witchthewriter · 4 months ago

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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I know I've written about Daryl x reader in a relationship, but I'm rewatching The Walking Dead and UGH I love him...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ISTP

Hufflepuff

Chaotic Good

Taurus Sun, Scorpio Moon, Aquarius Rising

𝑺��𝑾🌿

・The perfect example of your marriage is that scene from Yellowstone at the bar. Here's the link. Warnings: Violence :)

・Yes, so you and Daryl have a very close relationship - it has taken you a long time to get to this point.

・But marriage meant you two would be staying together for life. And Daryl knew that. No one was taking you away from him.

・You two met at the very beginning; in the camp with Lori, Carl, Carol, Dale, Andrea, Shane, Glenn etc.

・You abhorred Merle and gave him as much as you could - cussing him out, calling out his actions etc. You were always right but Merle was Merle.

・And you grouped Daryl with his brother; although he didn't say much.

・When Merle wasn't around, you actually got the time to see Daryl differently.

・He was really growing on you.

・You had no idea that he was wrestling with certain feelings as well.

・Your relationship was ... a slowburn to say the least. But you always looked out for each other. Made sure one another had enough food and water.

・There developed a constant between the two of you. Where one went, the other wasn't far behind. Especially when the group would split up

・You always found your way back to each other

・And yet, neither of you could see how much the other cared. Even though the whole group - even the new members - could see it.

・Though he comes off as rough and gruff to most, Daryl would have a soft spot for you. You’d be the only one who gets to see his gentler, more vulnerable side.

・

𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹

・Daryl was anxious all day, you even saw his hands shake before he saw it and shoved them in his pockets.

・You were worried; he never kept anything from you. Not even when you were just best friends.

・So you went to Carol, she shrugged her shoulders and gave you that knowing look. It calmed your own nerves down, because when Daryl is anxious; you are tenfhold.

・That night you were getting ready for watch, but a knock came at the door.

・It was Michonne.

"Hey, you wanna come in? I'm gonna start my shift soon but I can make us something tea?"

"It's okay, and don't worry about your shift; I have something for you to do."

"Oh okay, sure."

・You followed Michonne past the gardens, the crops and up to the doors of Alexandria and out into the nearby forest.

"We ugh, made sure the area was clear. You don't need to worry about a thing."

・She gave you one of her knowing smiles and you knew something was up...it made you nervous.

・Once Michonne disappeared, you heard the crunching of leaves.

・Quickly you whipped out your knife and swiped as you turned, only to be met by a large hand grabbing your arm.

"Thought I taught ya better than tha'" Daryl said, letting go of your arm and giving you a smile

"You did. I knew it was you. Heavy boots were giving me a heads up."

・It was then that you noticed his appearance; washed, with a clean black button up shirt, and a fresh pair of jeans.

・You quirked an eyebrow.

"What is this Dixon?"

Hesitating, Daryl rubbed the back of his neck with his calloused hand, eyes darting briefly to the ground before meeting yours.

“Been thinkin’,” he started, shifting his weight between one leg to the other. “’Bout us… and all the shit we've gone through...”

You stepped closer to him. Closing the gap. And your heart started pumping a whole lot faster.

"-You know I ain’t good with words,” he muttered in a low voice. “Specially ain’t good at all this… romantic stuff. But you—you’re the best thing...that has ever happened to me. Hell, you're the only thing that makes sense in this goddamn world.”

・Your cheeks started to redden but you let him talk

From his pocket, Daryl pulled out something small and clenched in his hand, his fingers trembling just slightly.

You let out a soft, "oh." Thinking this day would never come.

When he opened his hand, there it was—a simple, gold ring.

“I know it ain’t much,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's perfect," the tears had started to fall now. You didn't even notice you had begun to cry.

Daryl sniffed, not realising he had shed a few tears as well. "...I just want you to know… you’re my family now. Always have been.”

He held the ring out to you.

"I don't know how long we have in this world. But I know I wanna spend it with you."

There was a moment of silence. One you let hang in the air, not truly believing this was happening.

"So… what d’ya say?”

・The look on his face was pure and full of love.

"God I love you Daryl Dixon."

・Slipping the ring on your finger, you realised how comfortably it fit. You gave Daryl a knowing look and he gave you a sheepish one.

"...measured your finger when you were sleepin'...also had help from Carol..."

You couldn't help but laugh.

"You know I'm getting you one, right? I want everyone to know you're taken. That Daryl Dixon is mine."

"Wouldn't expect anything else."

・Then he kissed like it was your very first and last kiss.

The kiss was unlike anything you’d ever felt—raw, deep, and so full of emotion that it left you breathless. His lips claimed yours with an intense passion.

His hands trembled slightly, and cradled your face. Holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world; well, to him you were.

Pulling apart, he rested his forget against your own and whispered:

“Ain’t never lettin’ you go.”

In that moment, the world outside could have crumbled, and it wouldn’t have mattered. All that existed was you and him.

𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹

・Being married to Daryl Dixon meant having someone completely and utterly loyal to you.

・He calls you his family; and when he does so, you know it comes from a place of deep sincerity and respect.

・Instead of grand romantic displays, Daryl shows his love in quiet ways, like fixing something for you, preparing food, or just staying by your side during tough times.

・Daryl would be the ultimate protector, keeping you safe at all costs.

・You have your own place together. Not too far from everyone but secluded enough that you feel independent

・A common part of your nightly routine is cuddling up together on the couch and eventually falling asleep. (Daryl already having locked all the doors and has weapons around the house - just in case. He's not leaving anything to chance.)

・You've both shared everything you know about survival with one another.

・One of your ideas was to make a book about it. How to survive in this mess of a world; Daryl has fully encouraged it. He said it would come in handy for the next generations...

・Daryl thrives in the quiet moments of your marriage—sitting together by a fire, riding his motorcycle with you behind him, working on something side by side in comfortable silence.

・He also has a way of surprising you with such tenderness. E.g., brushing hair from your face or resting his forehead against yours in silent appreciation.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

"Look at that stupid dumbass man, ha! Oh shit that's my dumbass-" (Daryl)

Short & bossy x Tall & follows them around

"Think they'll try us?" x "Fuck I hope so."

"Why Are You Babying Me?" (Daryl) x "'Cause I Know You Like It" (You)

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Forced Proximity

Strong Feelings (Thinking It's Hate - WRONG It's Love)

Enemies to Lovers

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon

Into My Arms by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

One More Hour by Tame Impala

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon headcanons #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #witchthewriter #headcanons #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead headcanons #relationship tropes #hufflepuff #hogwarts house #relationship headcanons #relationship dynamics

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moesthoughts · 8 days ago

Text

right where you left me

pairing : ex lottie matthews x reader

warnings : angst, hurt and comfort, exes to lovers, cannibalism and blood mentions, wilderness lottie

summary : lottie’s mind hasn’t left you ever since you broke up before the crash, luckily she’s the one to find you when you get lost in the forest.

So many months passed by since the plane crashed in the middle of nowhere, leaving you and your whole team stranded in a forest. Nobody has come to rescue you, everyone has lost hope. You try to remember the person you were when you got on that plane, how happy you were to get out of the house for once and fucking play in nationals. You aren’t that girl anymore, how could you return to that state of mind? Blood coating your hands, eating other human beings for survival, you’re no longer innocent.

Now that the summer has come, and the harsh heat controls everybody’s mood even more than the winter has, you decide to take up the job of foraging. It’s an easy way to get away from everyone, and you get to use the knowledge you’ve learned thus far for good. Picking berries that won’t make people sick, mushrooms that won’t kill, you wonder if you stab into a tree hard enough you’ll get maple syrup too.

You’ve been walking for hours, and no markers you previously made are visible. You’re starting to worry; there’s no way you can be lost. No matter how much your feet are screaming at you to stop walking you keep going, and going, and going. Until you stop, giving up entirely. You sit on a log a bury your face into your hands, the reality of being lost settling in. You wonder how Javi survived all that time, especially in the winter. Could you do that? Tears sting the corner of your eyes, your shoulders starting to shake from the stress. The best thing you can do is stay put and hope for the best.

You’re finally thinking about getting off your ass when you hear footsteps from behind you, your head perks up and turns to see who it is. Though, you’re disappointed to see it’s your ex girlfriend, Lottie Matthews. You two broke up before nationals, you’ve never played so well at a soccer game. It wasn’t like she was a bad person, she was emotionally distant from you, and you couldn’t handle that. So you split up. Now here she is, somehow finding you at your worst.

“You shouldn’t be this far.”

Lottie speaks, making a chill run down your spine. You can’t help but nod in agreement, that much was obvious. You don’t know how you managed to lose your way around woods you’re so familiar with. She sat down next to you, resting her arms on her legs. She has that same soft look as always, minus the malice that shined in her eyes.

“Did they send you to find me?”

You mumble in response. You wipe your face, wet with tears. Lottie’s face expression softens, a small huff coming from her mouth. You want to believe that she was forced to come out to get you, that you’re a burden on her back, you want her to hate you. Her fingers caress your arm, your wants washing away at her touch. Lottie could never hate you, she’s constantly worrying about your health, your feelings, but she stays away for your sake.

“I came out here to find you, because I was worried.”

She was whispering, her tone being sickeningly sweet. Your eyes fall on her, welling with tears. You feel so many emotions, yet you don’t know how to express them. She walked all this way just to find you, and god knows how far you are from camp. You feel warm inside, knowing that Lottie still cares about you. You didn’t stop loving her, and you never had any harsh feelings towards her. It was unfortunate what happened, you know, you shouldn’t get that close with her again. However, with the look she’s giving you and her gentle touch on your skin, you can’t help but scoot closer to her.

“Lottie..”

You stare at her, taking in her beautiful face. She softly smiles, her hand traveling to your back. You two are closer than ever, you feel her warm breath on your face. Her lips are the prettiest pink, and her eyes are drawing you closer. You shouldn’t do this, get yourself intertwined with her again. It feels so right though, her touch, her smile, her tone. It brings you back to the person you used to be, the girl you want to have back so desperately.

“I don’t want to make you uncomf—“

Lottie shushes you, her free hand resting on your cheek. You press your lips together, trying to maintain eye contact with the girl in front of you. Memories flood your mind, the make out sessions in your bedroom, the phone calls, the pregame kisses, her touch lingering on your body every time she left. Unlike you, Lottie embraces the person she’s turned into. You wonder if you should ditch the nostalgia, and accept yourself.

“This is supposed to happen.”

Her words are all it takes to convince you to bridge the gap between you both. Your lips are on hers, the kiss is gentle, needy. Lottie’s hands are idle on your body, while yours travel hers, trying to cover every curve you’ve missed so much. She presses her body against yours, giving you the warmth you’ve needed so desperately. That same dizzy sensation you always felt before the crash hitting you hard. Maybe this was supposed to happen, fate pulled you both back together, or whatever “it” is was the cause. You know fully that’s what she believes.

You break off the kiss and stare at her plump lips, a breathy giggle escapes her. It’s like looking at an old painting, relishing a sight you’ve longed to see. Lottie pulls you up to your feet, her eyes lingering on you before grabbing your hand.

“Let’s head back.”

not a req BUT I ADORE THIS IDEA UGHHHH

req me!

masterlist

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews #yellowjackets imagines #yellowjackets smut #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets imagine #moeswriting #moesthoughts

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remmickrealgf · 17 days ago

Text

Hi, hi, hi everyone!! It’s been a minute since I’ve written any type of fanfic, so sorry if it’s not the best T - T !!!

Warnings: Dubcon, Noncon, dark romance, kidnapping, blood play, sexual content, smut, human x vampire, mdi, mind control, oral smut

Summary: After a party for your friend’s birthday you head home alone in the middle of night through the forest and run into the grasp of a strange man just steps away from home.

Word count: 4k

Enjoy!! :3 (if anyone wants a part two, please let me know)

Author's Pov:

Lazily your eyes flutter open. Everything in view is still a foggy blur, but after a few more blinks and rubbing the drowsiness from your eyes, it all clears. Hovering above you is your good friend, Molly. Her arms are crossed as she peers down at you, lips forming a straight line.

“Come on, y/n, get up it’s past eleven p.m,” a heavy sigh falls from her lips. “And I got work early in the mornin’, so you best get going now.”

You spring to life on the couch, eyes dart across the room where plenty of your other friends danced, laughed and shouted in celebration of Molly’s birthday. This time a long sigh croaks from your own lips. “How long was I out?”

Molly's head recoils back like a turtle scurrying back in its shell as a playful smile creeps upon her face. “Damn near the whole night, y/n, and only after few rounds of Moonshine.”

Heat stings your cheeks and ears as you spring from the cozy couch, gathering all your belongings before hitting the road. “Typical, you know that’s why I don’t do them drinks, girl.” She walks with you towards the front door.

“Don’t sweat it, we were all havin’ fun, plus no one cared, too busy buzzed them damn selves.” She opens the door, embraces you in a tight hug before warning you to be safe on the trip home.

The cool Mississippi summer breeze tickles your cheeks and exposed skin. Moonlight drips down along the forest’s patch of dewy grass as if guiding you home on the path. You idly step to the humming buzz of crickets in the near distant. A hum finds its way in the midst of your throat as you recall the tunes of the bands at Molly’s party before you blacked out on the couch. The way they played the blues on their guitars invoked something in the air tonight. Everyone was jumping and stomping to the groove all in sync almost like a spiritual ritual.

Another memory picked at your brain, but it’s still foggy as you try recalling it. You think hard and long to the point where you slow in your tracks. Something else happened tonight but you can’t quite put your fingers on it because of the drinks you had. Overhead at the pale moon you gaze up at it, eyes squinting taking in its beauty in the clear night sky. “So pretty, pale and white,” You murmur. White and pale. You halt and look back up at the moon. “Right, white folk came along at the door during the band’s second song!”

You didn’t get a good look at the folks, but you remember there being three of them together holding their own instruments strangely enough, begging to come in to play. They seemed like nice folks, but no one knew them and Molly was always keen on stranger danger. She sent them away and shut the door shut before riling everyone up again. You shake your head at the thought of the odd occurrence. A big oak tree brings relief meaning you're getting closer to home. Your good friend lives about twenty minutes away which is not a horrible walk. Except it’s late at night and you're not a fan of the darkness. In fact you have been bearing it the entire walk home.

You try to shake away from the fact that you're walking home alone but thoughts wash over, flooding every crevice of your mind. You feel it, dread crawling up your spine. The cool breeze blows with more force making the trees dance fiercely. Goosebumps spread like wildfire across your exposed skin as the wind nearly knocks you over. Even your gown dances violently with the wind, making it difficult to walk. “Good, god, this wind is ridiculous tonight.”

The trees stiffen. Crickets stop singing. The wind no longer howls. Only the drum of your pulsing heart hums in the quiet forest. The sound of a twig snapping echoes loudly. You freeze, sweat forming in your palms. You look for where the sound came from only to be met by the dimly lit endless tall barks. With a quick gulp you quicken the pace. The sound comes again, again and again. With each noise it seems to get closer. You're now jogging, pulling at the sides of your gown to prevent a nasty trip on the rough twig, tiny rock filled ground. You assume an animal is stalking you, hot on your trails, most likely a coyote.

A growl pierces through the silent air nearly knocking your heart out of your chest. Shaky whimpers utter through the cracks of your lips as you nearly trip over your feet from constant peeks over both shoulders. Step after step, heels digging deep into the soil, your legs start to burn. Your breaths are ragged, not to mention fiery sting of your lungs screaming to explode. Faintly seeing the porch light of your house makes all the pain worth it. The more it comes into view the more ease pours into you.

Your view blurs black in an instant. You lose your footing falling backwards from running into something firm, but the crash against the grass never comes. Something grips at your left wrist holding you up with ease.

“Easy there, sweetheart.”

Your eyes snap open looking up from your heels to see a man. Newly formed clouds block the moon, casting shadows over his defined features in the night. You yank away with ease. Caressing the skin he touched. Perfect timing. A random man appears before you just as you were so close to reaching the home. Even more ironic is that you’re literally about a minute walk away from the porch yet here you are. A pang of irritation burns through you, but you want no problems. You smile brightly, “Look, mister, I apologize for my clumsiness, but I really need to get home–”

“Course, no need apologizing, sweetheart.”

Anxiously you stroke the skin of your arm and chuckle awkwardly. Your eyes fall anywhere else but on his face. “Y-yeah, I should be goin’ now.” You attempt to slide past his towering frame, but stands in the way.

“Aht, aht, aht, not so fast, little hare.” He waves a long finger.

Your heart quickens and blood rushes to your ears. You think to yourself, this seriously cannot be happening. Clouds clear in the night sky and lights pours over his features revealing a handsome face. What stands out the most is his glowy crimson irises and sharp canines poking at his bottom lip. “W-What is…eyes…they’re r-red and your teeth,” You barely manage out backing up, body a shaking leaf in the wind.

“Don’t freight, it’s nun’ to be scared of, I promise.” He grins wolfishly, filling in the gaps between you two.

“I need to get home sir, goodnight.” This time you blur past him. A choked wring whine rips through the stiff air as your dress collar digs deep in your throat before your back hits the bark of a nearby tree. You try comprehending what just happened but pain shoots through your back. In the dim moonlight his legs move in your vision. He crouches before you, that playful sadistic smile still carved on his face.

“Y’know it’s rude to end conversations that way, right?” His calloused hand gently caresses the side of your cheek. Thumb rubbing away tears threatening to spill. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” He coos, head cocking to the side. Though his voice is soft as feathers, sweet as honey, those piercing bloody irises tell another story.

The guy is a total psycho. After all, who knocks the wind out of someone then coos at them as if they were not the cause? I gotta get home now! You thought.

“Not gonna speak now, huh?”

No thoughts, no plan, just a goal–getting home, you slap his hand away and spring to life on your feet. You dash past him seconds away from the porch you call home. He sighs long and hard, but it falls on deaf ears as you are too occupied with getting home. The man is quick on his feet, faster than you and yanks at your gown. Again you meet with the ground hard. Gravel breaks the skin of your palms. You don’t mind it, back on your feet inches away from the porch steps.

“So tenacious, aren’t we now.” He shakes his head. A palm runs over his face and through his messy hair. An impish chuckle rocks up his throat. “She’s a fun one.” In a blur he’s behind you tugging onto your gown nearly ripping the silky fabric.

With ease he throws you over his shoulders and you gasp in the process. Idly he walks back towards the darkened woods. “One, two, three, four, five,” he hums a tune under his breath, “Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road.” Before he sings more you thrash around. You kick and drum your small balled fist onto his back hard. He never wavers, still carrying you like it’s idle work.

“Let go of me!” you scream still moving violently in his iron grip. The more he walks deeper into the forest the smaller your porch becomes like an ant on a sidewalk. You were so close to home, yet at the same time so far away, now even further as he carries you to uncertain faith. Fear and anger controls you as you keep resisting. Your fist collides with his head’s temple while your legs wham his firm chest. Yet he’s still not bothered or so you thought. Little did you know the smile on his face quivers, eyes twitch and his muscles tense. He’s a patient man, but the night has not been so kind to him. He’s tired and you’re striking his last nerve.

A harsh slap on the thigh makes you cry out and your fighting slightly falters. “You best behave now, little hare.”

Your thigh burns and stings with pain. Now when you look at the house it's completely out of sight swallowed by the dark of night. Anger you once felt slowly melts away leaving only fear. Endless visions of what he might do flashes in your mind. Only God knows what he will do. Chop you up, torture you to no ends and your screams likely would be heard by no one in the dead of night. Your vision blurs as hot streams of tears soak your cheeks. You didn’t want to give in, but being so far away from home makes fighting seem futile.

“Aww, no more fight left in y’a?” He chuckles low and raspy. “Good girl.” The little remark cut at your pride and humiliation sinks in deep. Insults of all kinds spring to life in your throat. They never slip past your lips. “If that’s the case I’ll let y’a walk on yer own.” In one swift motion your feet plant on the grass.

Just as you think about making a run for it, the man speaks again. “Run and I’ll crush and ruin you with no mercy.” The palm of his hand glides down your spine to your plump ass. He gives it a rough squeeze. “If you know what I mean,” He purrs near the shell of your ear.

Heat blossoms on your face, spreading to your ears. Vivid images of what he means invokes fear in you and shamefully a spark of heat between your legs. Get it together, y/n, that’s disgusting, you tell yourself.

“You’d like the idea of that, huh?”

You remain silent, slowly following after him. Under the dim light of the moon’s glow, you sneak snippets here and there of his face. The more you look the more familiar he seems. “Do we know each other, sir?”

He hums. Pauses for a slight moment and says, “Don’t know, you tell me.”

At Molly’s door earlier tonight during the party there were three white folk. One woman and two men. The one in the middle…could it be. It hit you hard like a brick. Your feet halt in the grass. “It’s you, the man, the one at the door!” Your index points at him accusingly.

“Ding-ding, you deserve a prize, little hare,” he snickers almost mockingly, but you can’t tell.

“What do you want with me? Is this some kind of sick joke cause we ain’t let yall folks in?”

He stands with hands in his pants pockets. His smile never falters and fangs peek from under his top lip. “Nah, I just happened to be looking for some fun tonight and ran into a cute little hare,” He licks his fangs, “I also just happened to get lucky too.” There it was again, that terrifying bloody glow in his eyes.

“God help me.” You step backwards and bump into a nearby tree. “What is your idea of a fun time?”

His grins deepens and tilts his head. Slowly he fills in the space between you two. The way he walks even makes your knees knock together and hands tremble against the bark. He’s a predator and you, his helpless prey caught right where he wants you. “Don’t be so naive, little hare.”

Move. Move. Move feet, please! You scream internally at yourself. And move you did before he could cage you on the tree.

“Looks like you still got some fight left in y’a.” He watches unmoved where he stands as your small figure is swallowed in the darkness of the forest where the moon’s light doesn’t touch. He scoffs, “Fine by me, little hare.”

How long has it been? Seconds? Minutes? You don’t know. Your legs burn, slowly becoming numb. Tree branches scrap and tear at your legs and arms as you blur down the path he carried you on. Every now and then you check over both shoulders. He is never there behind you. Yet you still feel him. Somewhere in this forest you know he lurks ready to pounce at any moment. Truly he’s a sly, cruel predator letting you think you have some chance to make it back home.

“Little Hare!” His voice bounces off the trees. It taunts you. Scares you. It makes you wonder anxiously where it came from but you don’t know. Your eyes flicker in every direction and uneven heavy pants fill your ears. “Little Hare!” There he goes again. That time he sang it like he’s having fun. You don’t put it past a freak like him. Again he sings that odd foreign song. His voice echoes from everywhere.

Where the hell is he? You thought.

“Yes!” You cried joyfully, seeing the light of your porch once again. All you had to do was keep going and you would be home sweet home. A cramp claws at your left leg. Your footing becomes sloppy. Over your own two feet you come tumbling down on the ground. The skin of your knees scream as fire blooms from the gravel of mixed dirt and rocks. You whimper, pushing yourself up from the grass. Your head whips over her shoulder for him. There’s nothing but the blinding dark. “I’m almost there, please, God.”

“He can’t help you now, love.”

Your breath hitches, stuck in your throat. His black oxford shoes come into view near where your hands palms the dirt. You peer up at him. Your eyes flicker behind him where the porch is. Hope in you wavers, barely a lit flame, a mere spark. Tears blind you. They fall endlessly, dripping down your chin.

He crouches down to your level, elbows rest upon his knees and his head tilts slightly. He proudly wears a sneer. “What’s the matter, baby?” His hand reaches out to your face to wipe the tears, but you recoil your face away from the unwanted touch.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me, bastard,” You grit out.

“Oh?”

Your eyes cut and slice at him as you glare up at him. Heavy breaths gush out your lips.

He only laughs, face becoming wicked by each passing second and minute. “Well aren’t you suddenly a feisty little thing.”

Feisty? Is this man serious? All night he has been toying with you and all you want is to go home. To sleep what is left of the night, yet here you are. Playing these ridiculous games of his. You’ll show him feisty. You draw back a hand before striking him across the face. “Fuck you, damn bastard, go to hell!”

His body stiffens, head still in the direction you slapped it in. You didn’t think about what you did and even after it you still don’t pay it any mind. Drowning in your own rage. His face slowly turns to face you. When you take in the expression resting on his handsome face your heart skips a beat. For the first time tonight his face is void of any signs of a playful fox. A dark, wicked glow glimmers in his red eyes. His lips draw a curve downwards as he stares down at you.

“That’s some strength you got there for a little lady.” He strokes the stinging skin of his cheek. “After that one I’m definitely gonna have fun breaking you.” In a flash before you blink he hauls you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. It earns a gasp from you.

“Put me down you freak!” Again you thrash in his hold. Kicking, punching, scratching. It’s no use and this time he doesn’t walk lazily in the forest. He’s running, and quickly. Too fast. The trees and grass blurs in your eyes. Once again you can’t see the porch’s light. Only darkness. Your blood runs cold, your heart hammers. “Someone please help me! Help please someone,” You scream.

“Silly little hare, no one can hear you.” He teases. “But scream to no end if y’a must.” His pace slows and you can see much clearer. You’re no longer in the woody forest. Rotten wood of a porch steps moan under his footing. “Almost there, then we’re gonna have us some fun, little hare.”

Inside of his small cabin in the middle of nowhere he tosses you on a bed. The wires whine under your weight as you sink in the bed’s center. Scrambling backwards like a wounded animal, your backside hits the wall where the bed aligns and watch him. Odors of old blood sting your nostrils. Your body trembles violently as you wait helplessly for what’s next to come. After many years of living and joking about your end you never knew it would come to be like this. Toyed with like a children’s toy then discarded. Just as the girls who also go missing, soon you’re going to be just like them. Name in bold ink printed somewhere in a newspaper article. Some will recognize your name while others will merely glance over it and go on with their daily lives. At the thought of that your lips quiver and words tangle in your throat.

As you force the words up they come out a mess–word vomit, “p-please don’t hurt me,” You sniffle between tears. “I d-don’t wanna die, please let me go home. I’ll do anything, so please.”

As if your pleas fall on deaf ears the man closes the door of the room, locking it. Instead of turning on the bright bulb he lights two red candles on a nightstand. Dim light glows in the room highlighting one side of his body leaving the other to drown in shadows. Your cries and begging fills the room. Tears soak your face. He keeps quiet as his eyes devour every inch of your shivering frame. At the edge of the bed inches away from you he sits. That same wicked smile creeps on his impish face.

“Yer really bipolar, aren’t y’a?” He leans in closer. “Begging me now for mercy, just minutes ago y’a screamed profanities at me, even struck me in the face.” His fingers glaze his cheek. “I like the way y’a beg,” He whispers, warm breath hits your ear’s shell and exposed neck. You nearly whine at it.

“Please–”

“Shh.” He gently places an index finger over your lips. The glimmer in his eyes makes you shake even more. In those red pools of darkness is a type of want and need. Lust and desire. Saliva trickles at his lips corners as he inhales your neck. His fangs sharpen, grazing over the delicate skin of your neck. “Smell so good, little hare.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and your face turns away firmly pressing onto the cool wall. It gives him more excess and he smirks. He loves how you’re being so obedient and cute. A crumbling little mess on his bed just for him.

“I promise this’ll only hurt a bit, I won’t be too rough,” he whispers softly. Sharp and deep, something sinks in your neck paralyzing your body with panic and fear. A breathy gasp escapes your lips. Your hands grasp at his white button shirt shaking.

You whimper and choke on sobs as more tears stain your flushing face. His tongue, hot and wet laps where his fangs broke skin. Under his touch you crumble against the wall as small whimpers fill the room with lewd sounds of him sucking your neck. He doesn’t let you slide down on the bed, pulling you in his lap. Your chests face one another as he cradles you in his lap still drinking your blood. It’s painful, a dull type. Shamefully you feel yourself becoming feverish between your legs. The world around you numbs as your mind blurs with fog and your body flares to the touch with heat. Your body jerks at every brush of touch.

“Getting hot and bothered, sweetheart?” A hand snakes down to your plump ass and finds its way underneath your gown. Gently his hand trails up and down on your inner thighs. Lightly his fingers glide over your folds through your panties’ cotton fabric. Back arching you moan softly, breath uneven. “You like that?”

You don’t say a word. Lost in euphoria and drowning in it. Blood oozes down your neck but his tongue catches it. His fingers slip underneath your panties dipping in your wet, hot slick. The pleasure yanks you from the daze. “W-what are you doin’?” His fingers play with the tip of your clit smearing warm slick on it. Your hips jolt forward on his fingers. You grab the wrist that’s under your gown. “Stop it, please.”

“Why when yer so drenched down here,” He whispers against your neck. “I can help you feel better, I promise.” He lays you down on the bed. Underneath him you’re caged by his forearms.

With the palm of a hand, you press against his chest. You want him off but your arms are weak as jelly. From your forehead, cheeks, nose, lips he litters kisses down to your collarbone. Down the middle a claw sharp finger rips open your gown. Your breast peek out giving him excess. He trails more kisses from your collar bone until he finds himself at your breast. One hand plays with a tit as his tongue toys with the hard nipple of the other. You whine and your knees knock against each other as your hand grips his hair. “N-no stop it,” you murmur weakly.

“Doesn’t sound like that’s what you want.” Two fingers roughly pinch your bud earning another cry. “See, just listen to yer self.”

“That’s not true,” You sob. “Y-you did something t-to me. My n-neck…”

He ignores your pitiful whines, inching further down. He pulls your panties revealing your needy, throbbing, cunt. His face dips down, mouth latching on your cunt. An electrical shock shudders up your spine. You sit up and pull at his hair to stop him. An invisible force knocks you back down. “Don’t fight it, sweetheart.”

Rapid pants, whimpers and lewd sucking noises fill the room. His tongue teases your folds. Painfully slow licks from the bottom to the top of your clit. It drives you insane. Multiple times your legs try closing but his steel grip prevents it every time. He even glides and pumps a finger in your cunt. One minute he sucks at your clit and the next he gives it a peck before a painfully slow lick. Never in your life have you ever been licked that way before. Your fist grip at the sheets, hips twitch and legs shake like a leaf in stormy winds. “Y’a almost there,” He breathes, “hmm, sweetheart?”

Obediently you whimper softly, eyes fluttering through tears, “g-gonna cum!” Your voice is so weak it’s barely a whisper.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.”

On cue you become undone and cum on his tongue.

#remmick #remmick x reader #remmick x you #female reader #dub con #tw noncon #tw dubcon #sinners 2025 #sinners #smut #vampire smut #jack o'connell #sinners fanfiction #sinners au

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callsign-rogueone · 12 days ago

Text

Ridoc to the rescue

Ridoc Gamlyn x flier!reader

words: 2.1k

🏷️: set in iron flame, the only major warning is descriptions of blood / heavy bleeding, and some minor gross medical procedures performed by Brennan to save you, nothing too much worse than canon, nobody asked for this, it just came to me in a vision and I had to execute it. never written flier reader before, nor Ridoc pov, but I think I did okay, poorly formatted because I’m posting from my phone, okay that’s it bye!

“Incoming,” Sawyer says quietly, nodding across the table — Cat is headed straight for us.

I file through my inventory of snappy remarks, prepared to turn anything she says around on her, but it’s not Violet she’s here for.

“Ridoc,” she pants, “we need you. One of ours hasn’t come back from patrol, and the storm is too strong for us to go look for her.”

“Why me?”

“We think she’s trapped in a snowbank. And you can make it melt, right? You can get her out of there?”

I may have been part of a very short-lived plot to kill her yesterday, but the genuine worry in her eyes is compelling. Whoever this girl is, she deserves my help.

“I can try.”

———

This search and rescue mission is damned difficult with the amount of snow that’s still falling, despite me being able to direct it away from us. It’s too hard to see anything, and the wind is blowing straight at us.

Aotrom decides to land in a clearing by the edge of the forest, the unexpected drop having me yelping in surprise. He lets me slide down, and continues walking, sniffing the frozen ground intently — and then I see it.

There’s a trail of blood leading into the forest, and clawed footprints that look like they could be a gryphon’s. They were dragging something, from the looks of it. Or someone. Sure enough, fifty feet away from the tree line is a gryphon, with the blurred shape of a human beside them. I step closer until it finally notices me, and makes a sound between a screech and a hiss, which undoubtedly means “back the fuck up”.

“Easy,” I soothe, putting my hands up as I continue to step closer. “I’m here to help. She’s going to freeze to death if I don’t do anything.”

The bird appears to consider it for a moment, casting a glance down at their curled-up, bloodied flier, and then back at me… nodding?

Alright.

“Hey,” I prod.

No response. She’s breathing, at least — breathing is good. Breathing means she has a chance of making it back to the house. And Cat probably wouldn’t ever forgive me if she died, especially not after what happened on that gods-awful hike two weeks ago.

Forget Cat’s opinion of me. This is just the right thing to do.

If I can get her out of the forest, then Aotrom can give us both a lift back to the house, and Brennan can mend whatever injuries she has. I hadn’t realized I’d been talking to myself — the gryphon makes a squawk that probably translates to “no way in hell are you putting her on the back of a dragon”.

“Are you going to carry her back there in that snowstorm? Can you? — Don’t snap your beak at me. I’m trying to keep your rider — flier — alive. And you, too.”

She stirs, making a soft, pained sound, and turns enough that I can see her face. There’s a cut across her cheekbone, bruises along her temples… I can’t see much more skin than that, but I’m sure this isn’t the extent of her injuries.

“Hey,” I try again, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She gathers up the strength to crack open her eyes, which immediately widen with panic — she’s near defenseless, and a rider is standing over her.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Cat sent me to help you get back to the fortress.”

She considers it for a moment, then nods, attempting to sit up — and immediately squeezes her eyes shut, lying back down against the gryphon’s wing with a soft swear. “My side.”

“Can I check it?”

She nods, letting me unbutton her jacket and pull up her shirt. There’s a bruise on her left side the size of a watermelon, darker than any other bruise I’ve seen. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it’s internal bleeding, and it’s bad.

Evidently I press too hard as I check for broken bones, because she yelps in pain, flinching away. The gryphon’s eyes narrow, ready to bite, but she calls it off. “S’ okay, girl,” she reassures, struggling to keep her eyes open and her breathing even. “Not his fault.”

“What happened, anyway?”

“Storm was too strong,” she wheezes. “I got thrown, and landed on a — fuck — bigass rock.”

There’s only one rock in sight that I would consider to be in the bigass category, and it’s fucking huge. And not at all flat. It easily could have killed her if she’d landed differently.

It might still kill her anyway.

“That one?” I ask, nodding back to the open area.

“That one.”

There’s a gust of freezing wind that has her shuddering, tugging her shirt back down and twisting up her sleeves to tighten them to her arms. Right. Other people are bothered by the cold. I have no idea what her signet — gift — is, but it clearly isn’t anything to do with fire or ice.

We can talk about that later, once we’re not in the middle of a snowstorm. “Let’s get you out of here. Brennan can fix you when we’re back at the house.”

She nods, even as I realize that she probably has no idea who I’m talking about. She doesn’t really have any choice but to trust me. Well, I guess she does; dying here, or trusting me.

“Do you think you can stand?”

Another nod. I reach down, extending my hands, and she takes them, struggling to hold on — she’s probably lost feeling in her fingers by now. She gets upright, her boots sinking into the snow underneath us, and immediately turns away from me, dropping my hands, and doubles over, retching — red blood splatters against the pure white of the snow.

“Fuck,” I breathe. “Okay. C’mere.”

She doesn’t respond, still blinking slowly at the brown sleeve of her jacket, which is now stained crimson from her wiping her mouth with it.

“C’mere,” I coax again.

She follows without question, letting me put an arm around her waist to steady her, my hand on her good side. I do my best to keep both of us upright despite the wind and the way she’s stumbling — walking through snow this deep is difficult enough, but it’s clear that her vision is blurred, and her balance off-kilter.

She stops in her tracks, tensing, and I immediately see the problem; her eyes are locked with Aotrom’s. Another moment of instinct taking over, twenty years of considering us a threat setting off an internal alarm in her head.

“He won’t hurt you. He’s probably the chillest guy in the riot, honestly.”

I hope that’s reassuring. She nods again, trying to deepen her breathing. Is she just not the chatty type, or is it too hard to form words?

Aotrom lays down in the snow, flat enough that we can walk across his leg to mount up. I’m glad that he hasn’t been weird about taking her back with us. Tairn would rather die than carry a flier.

“He’d rather kill the flier,” Aotrom corrects.

That, too.

Getting her up into the saddle is surprisingly easy. It helps that she’s absolutely exhausted, and doesn’t fuss about having to sit in front of me, with my chest pressed to her back. She settles down easily, pulling up her flight goggles -- the left lens is cracked from her fall, but still in one piece. If the glass had broken all the way through…

“It didn’t, and that’s what matters.”

She’s a little limp for my liking, but she doesn’t seem to be in as much pain now that she’s upright and not moving. I’m sure each breath still burns like hell, though. I’ve never had a broken rib before.

“Yet.”

“Entirely unnecessary,” I fire back, but he doesn’t respond, just launches us into the air.

———

Thank the gods that whoever designed this fortress put the infirmary on the bottom floor, and close to the gates. It is, however, completely deserted. No healers came with us from Basgiath, nor any from Cliffsbane, and at this time of day, everyone’s probably in class.

I take the liberty of laying her down in the first empty bed I see, apologizing as the movement jostles her broken ribs, but she doesn’t complain, even as I get her out of her flight jacket and pull up her shirt to expose the bruise.

“You never told me your name,” she murmurs.

“Ridoc,” I say softly, smoothing a hand over her hair, because that’s the only thing I can do, and because it’s sticking up in every direction after flying in that storm.

“Thank you, Ridoc. Glad I get to die in a real bed.”

My response comes out more harshly than I intend it to. “I didn’t bring you all the way back here just for you to die on me.”

“M’sorry.”

She’s not operating at full capacity here, and she doesn’t know me — she must think I’m mad at her. And for some reason, that feels like the end of the world.

“Don’t apologize. Just keep those pretty eyes open, hm?”

What’s taking Brennan so long?

“Here!” he calls, out of breath.

Thank the gods. “He’s gonna fix you up, okay?”

She doesn’t respond. Her pulse is racing under my fingertips, but it’s obvious that she’s fading away, and fast. With the amount of blood that’s no longer flowing through her veins, but instead pooling under her skin… she isn’t getting enough oxygen, and her heart is going to run out of blood to pump.

Brennan seems to realize the same thing. “She doesn’t have time for me to mend it — it’s compressing her lungs. We have to do this the old fashioned way.”

Before I can ask what that means, he unsheathes one of his daggers, uncapping a bottle of alcohol and dousing it quickly — then sinks it into the center of the bruise, slicing down to the bottom. Immediately, blood flows out, so dark it’s almost black, spilling onto the bedsheets and dripping onto the floor. The sight is something from a nightmare, and the smell…

Forget that. Focus on her.

She hasn’t cried, hasn’t shown any signs of pain, despite Brennan having cut her side clean open, and that’s almost more concerning than anything else.

“Menders can block pain,” Aotrom reminds gently. “She doesn’t feel a thing.”

Right. He’d done the same for me, weeks prior.

I feel completely useless just standing here while he works, but I’m not going to interrupt him to ask what I should do. I’ll just keep holding her hand, I guess, try to warm her up. Her skin is still cold to the touch — she’d been lying in the snow for gods know how long.

“I found the problem,” Brennan announces. “Problems plural, really. But I can fix them.”

I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder to see what he’s doing, immediately turning back and focusing on her face. She doesn’t look as cold as she did outside, but she doesn’t look healthy, either.

Of course she’s not healthy. She’s bleeding buckets. But I don’t know how else to describe the look of her skin, the feel of it on mine. It’s somehow warm and cold at the same time, clammy and dull. But she’s breathing, even with the gaping wound in her side and Brennan doing… I don’t want to think about what he’s doing. She’s breathing. That’s the only thing keeping me calm, that she’s still breathing, and holding my hand.

“Done.”

I brave another look back, seeing the skin slowly start to knit itself back together, leaving only a thin scar behind.

Brennan produces a towel out of nowhere, and starts wiping his hands, but he’s still stained red up to his wrists. “I can’t replace the blood she lost, but the injuries are fixed. It’ll take her a while to wake up.”

All I can do is nod. I don’t know what to say, after seeing all that.

He extends a hand, and I blink at him like an idiot for a second before I realize he’s offering to mend her blood off my skin. I hadn’t noticed it was there.

I let him, because I don’t want to get up to wash it off myself, and because the sight of it under my nails and lining the creases of my palms is making me feel sick.

“You’ve never been squeamish about blood,” Aotrom observes, sounding as neutral as he can.

The response comes automatically. “It’s never been hers.”

Only then do I finally realize — I don’t even know her name.

#ridoc gamlyn #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #ridoc gamlyn x reader #flier!reader #mine

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