#so I might just put out the next part too idk yet

[geeks-universe]

Kiss of Death Pt. 3

Anthony Bridgerton x Assassin!Reader

Society has certain expectations of you. If only they knew of your nighttime activities…

He wasn’t able to do much at all that day, his thoughts wandering back to his encounter with you. When he made his way back to their family home, he half expected you to be there. He couldn’t help the slight disappointment when you weren’t, but he managed to ignore that feeling entirely in favor of promenading around Hyde Park with his family.

They were all in especially high spirits, abuzz with talk of their latest guest. He could hardly muster the same enthusiasm to discuss your marriage prospects and fashion choices. It was made infinitely more difficult as, while making their way around the park, a number of young gentlemen wishing to learn more about the princess approached him.

What was meant to be a relaxing afternoon out with his family turned into a more sordid affair, not granting his thoughts any reprieve from you and your earlier encounter. He couldn’t help but ponder if you were perhaps having similar thoughts on the carriage ride home, causing his mother to cast a curious look in his direction.

She cleared her throat when it was made obvious that he was not actually paying attention.

“It’s unfortunate that Princess (Y/N) couldn’t promenade with us today.”

The look on her face was expectant. She was fishing for more information, obviously placing the blame for his sudden distraction on the family’s guest. Which, to be fair, she wasn’t entirely wrong, but he wouldn’t give her the chance to meddle in his affairs.

“I am sure the princess needs all of the reprieve she can get before the onslaught of suitors.”

Violet hummed in acknowledgment, though Anthony could tell she wasn’t quite ready to hang up the conversation.

“I think it will be wonderful,” Daphne stated, smiling first to her mama, then to Anthony. “She is quite nice, and I should like more friends to converse with.”

“Yes,” Violet agreed, “She is a very sweet girl, and beautiful too.”

Anthony narrowed his eyes, his expression giving nothing away.

“She wasn’t too sweet with Anthony this morning,” Benedict joked, beaming at his dearest brother.

Before he could reply to his brother, his mother was quick to interject.

“I believe you owe her an apology, Anthony.”

“The matter is settled,” he assured his mom, repressing the urge to fidget in his seat like a child being reprimanded.

His family was much too sharp to drop it there.

“Settled?” Violet echoed, the smallest smirk tugging at her lips.

Benedict was obviously struggling to keep a laugh in, purposefully shrinking even lower into his seat.

“You apologized?” Daphne asked, surprise evident in her tone. “When did you speak with her?”

He met Daphne’s gaze with a long stare, feeling a bit of embarrassment creep up his cheeks. What he had to be embarrassed about, he wasn’t really sure, but he felt like his conversation with you was… private, intimate even.

“Now Daphne,” their mother warned, her eyes not leaving her eldest son. “It is best we don’t question this miracle.”

Benedict’s laughs were deep and cheery as he found entertainment at his brother’s expense. As did Daphne and Violet, considering their own laughter echoed Benedict’s closely.

Anthony ignored them, casting his stare out the window of the carriage, trying his damndest to think of anything but you.

Curiously, in his effort to do so, he thought he saw a movement on one of the rooftops, but whatever the odd trick of the light was, it was gone before he could properly investigate it. He frowned, wondering briefly when you would be returning from the business you were conducting.

Anthony was a businessman by intellect, as well as by birthright. He was extremely familiar with the other businessmen in London, as well as those that he dealt with in the country. The business dealings of your family though? He didn’t have the slightest clue as to what the royal family might do.

When the Bridgerton family returned home they eagerly awaited your arrival. It was as if the entire house were just watching the seconds tick by, waiting for some hint that you might be on your way.

There wasn’t any.

The sun slipped below the horizon, afternoon melding into the evening, and they weren’t any closer to finding you.

With little to no fanfare, the Bridgertons slowly began to depart for the night, eventually leaving Anthony to his lonesome.

He debated retiring for the night, but his mind was no closer to settled, so he chose to review the family accounts. There was little actual need to do so, but, as of late, the Viscount found the task exhausting enough to lull him into a fitful slumber a top his hard desk.

This night had been no exception. Before long, after the fire had dwindled to embers, and the house had fallen silent, Anthony fell into a light sleep with his head nestled uncomfortably in the book he had been reviewing.

Usually, when Anthony had found himself in this position, he wouldn’t awake until the late morning with a normal amount of self hatred and a kink in his neck. This time, however, he found himself jerked out of the prickly claws of slumber by a warm hand on his shoulder.

Again, he found himself hastily throwing his arms in a desperate attempt to ward off whatever attacker snuck their way into his office.

“Easy,” your voice cooed, once again easily dodging his erratic movements. He wasn’t sure how your instincts had been sharpened so, but he was beginning to be grateful they had been.

“Princess,” like he’d been plunged into the ocean in winter, Anthony jumped to his feet, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “What are-“

“Relax,” you hushed, nodding to the window. From there, he could see that the morning sun was only barely peeking through the blanket of night sky. It still was hours before anyone would be awake.

“I returned late,” you offered as an explanation. “That didn’t look too comfortable, thought maybe you wanted to sleep in an actual bed.”

He nodded a few times, collecting his thoughts and running a hand through his no-doubt messy hair.

“Returned late?” He echoed finally, realizing the implication of that statement.

Were you just now settling in for the night? It was practically morning. Upon closer inspection, he could see the exhaustion heavy set in your eyes, the skin just below discolored and swollen. Not to mention, was that…

“Blood?” His back tensed, and he rushed forward with a handkerchief, pressing the garment to your cheek with care and haste.

You hadn’t stopped him, hadn’t even bothered, really. Before you’d returned, you had been cautious to tend to any lingering wounds. You must’ve been so tired you missed the small cut on your cheek.

“Nothing to worry yourself with,” you assured Anthony lightly, finally interrupting his movements. You wrapped your fingers delicately around his wrist, watching with shining eyes as his gaze fell to where you touched him.

“It was nothing more than an accident.”

Not necessarily a lie, not really a truth, either.

“I shall be more cautious next time.”

Anthony was still frozen, glued to the same instant you’d reached for him. The moment you had deliberately touched him, even in such an innocent way, the steady thump of his heart had ceased. He was sure it would never start again, that he would be forced the relive the moment over and over again, left to marvel at the tingle that spread from where your skin met his to the base of his spine.

“Perhaps you need rest.” Anthony was unsure where the sudden words came from, as he was still rooted to the spot. His gaze wandered up the length of your face slowly, observing your expression.

Your brow was quirked playfully, and a devilish smirk was beginning to form.

“Anthony Bridgerton, are you suggesting I look tired.”

He puffed out a breath, letting the handkerchief slip between the two of you to the ground with a soft thud. His touch was slow and deliberate, the pad of his thumb running over the skin below your eye.

“I’m suggesting,” he repeated purposefully, tongue wrapping more cautiously over each word, enunciating with a purpose, “That rest would do us both good.”

You considered his words thoughtfully, finally nodding gently after a moment.

“Then I should bid you goodnight.”

Anthony tilted his head, considering the woman standing before him. You were steady, indomitable, but soft.

“Proper society would dictate that it’s morning,” he teased lightly, drawing his fingertips up towards a few stray strands of hair. Lightly, he pushed them behind your ear, surprising even himself with the gentleness of his action.

“Proper society would dictate that we should not be interacting at this time of day, much less without a chaperone.”

You both shared a quiet, breathy laugh, before the air grew dense with a shared awe between you. Anthony had furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of the feeling. You frowned the second you realized how nice his presence was.

“Goodnight, Anthony.”

You retreated before allowing yourself to feel vulnerable anymore. Anthony was left to stare at an empty doorway, trying to listen to your fading footfall, but silence prevailed. By the time he entered the hallway, you had already retreated.

“Goodnight,” he whispered to the cold, dark hall.

The wind replied with a cold gust that caused him to grimace. With no other distraction, Anthony walked lazily to his room, intent on questioning you further in the morning.

Tag list: @mysticwitchcraftco @ajanauia @khaleesihavilliard @kariiiel

[gregoftom]

gross

[luvuomi]

remembering the fact i dropped that scara ice skating au on ao3 and then just disappeared afterwards like:

[xo-cod]

141 + reader

hc's when you five share the barracks together/just in general <3 (ooc, rushed my bad lmao, can be read platonically/romantically, reader is v close to them!!) kinda long oops 😩 might do a part 2 idk

nsfw version 🩷

there's a whole lot of testosterone and musk in the air when you're sharing living spaces with 4 men ‼️

all four men compete with each other to get your attention, even if it's unknowingly

whole lotta pouting when you're spending time with more man than the other, you're a great companion ;) and the army is lonely. they all need equal love and attention

speaking of, if you're smelling like one of them the other will immediately bundle you in his arms to put his scent on you instead and to cancel out the other (alpha behaviour 😵‍💫)

whole lotta flirting from each of them. they're all very intelligent soldiers, they know exactly what to say to get you going 😙

all of them adore the height difference with you. you get teased about it relentlessly (out of love obvi)

i don't think they're particularly messy men but ghost and gaz are the most cleanest, they like having their things in order and knowing where everything is

price is next because he's slumped with being captain so you'll see a lot of his paperwork around with coffee mugs from pulling all nighters

soap is more organised mess. it might look messy to you but he knows exactly where everything is

you, soap and gaz definitely have rap battles late at night. it starts of quiet but you'll usually hear price shouting at you three from his bedroom to stfu. ghost threatens to pull a grenade if you don't be quiet

assuming you're naturally a good cook, they'd all be so appreciative :") especially on bad days, your cooking reminds each of them of home (or lack of)

face masks! gaz would 100% be down to do them with you, soap would follow next because if gaz is doing it then he too???

ghost would roll his eyes, continuing polishing his guns with a rag "you ain't putting that muck on my face"

price would just look at you, shaking his head "got too much to do, sweetness"

but you're quite the convincer and all four men are on the floor of your bedroom, gossiping about the last mission with their preferred colour of face mask across their faces

assuming you're the only woman, they get very protective when you're hurt. soldiers get hurt from time to time but its different when it's you

"you alright, bonnie?" soap's gentle voice comes through your room as he hands you a warm mug of your fave drink

gaz had you wrapped in a big fluffy blanket, gently stroking your back

"who was it?" ghost's voice is firm, wanting to know who dared injured the youngest member of their team

"already got a handle on 'em" price follows, looking at the computer. whatever enemy dared to raise their hands on wished they'd be six feet under after all four men are done with them

you're the one each man needs when they're having a particularly bad day which are usually far in few between but sometimes it happens

gaz and soap are the types to seek you out, their faces settled in a troubled frown before they place their arms around you. no questions just yet, they just want to feel skin to skin for now. keeping them grounded before they can explain what happened. they're not looking for a fixer, just someone who'll listen

ghost and price are the type to isolate themselves for a while until it's night and then you'll find them gently knocking on your bedroom door and slipping inside, between your covers. their grip is strong, burying their faces deep into your neck whilst trying to wrap his arms as much as he can. these two won't talk much either, just looking to be held and stroked to calm down

ghost and soap are the type to show affection through lingering touches while gaz and price show affections through their words.

but speaking of hugs, each of them have their own special way they like to embrace

ghost thinks he's being slick but you realise just how touchstarved he really is, he gives hugs with his arms around your shoulders bringing you in to his chest. mostly because he's tall and broad but he likes how he can manhandle you from this position and smelling your scent <3

soap's the type to tackle you in a playful hug, maybe a spin to get a laugh out of you before he gently strokes your skin for a few seconds, a gentle kiss to your temple <3

price likes to hug from behind, resting his chin on your head while he looks at what you're doing. depending on you, his big arms are either wrapped on your waist or your shoulders <3

gaz gives side hugs because he likes linking his arm around your hips and he likes how you fit snugly into his body. and this way he can lean his head against yours and can bring you in closer with his other arm <3

all four can immediately smell you before you come in because they adore whatever perfume/spray you have

each of them would absolutely melt into pieces if you joined them/kept them company in what they were doing

and if they catch you in a towel after having a shower, best believe they're quickly walking back around to where they came from to help alleviate the growing... tent in their pants

lowkey kinda pervy 🫣 (never in a harmful way)

each of them have their strong points and would 100% train you in becoming stronger

even if you're a well established soldier, they all worry for your safety

price would teach you sniper techniques, ghost teaches you combat, gaz teaches you how to sharpen your aim and soap teaches you about explosives and how to construct/dismantle each of them

they take the training very seriously with you

a ton of cursing when their fave team loses lmaoo

if you're avid tea drinker, join the gaz/ghost/price club. if you're not, join the hater club with soap <3

ghost/gaz/soap will playfully fight with you, careful not to use their full strength and not to harm you. but it's so cute to them when you're struggling a little under them.

but when price scolds them in doing so, "i'm just helping in case there's an attack!"

if you're arguing against one of them, another will come to your defence. unless you're arguing all four then it's the silent treatment from you 🤭

all four of them melt when you call them by their real name instead of their callsign :")

ghost usually comes to you when his balaclava is broken and he'll keep you company as your fingers work their magic to the fabric, gently leaning against you as you speak to him

price will let you shape up his beard after you begging to do so and he grows to enjoy those tender moments

soap definitely calls for your help to shape up his mohawk, he trusts your hand to eye coordination above anyone elses

ghost will playfully ruffle your hair whenever you both pass each other

price gives you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder

gaz gives you a soft stroke on your arm or back whenever he's passing by

soap will gently tap his head against yours, not too hard to cause pain but just enough to know that he's there

but above all, the barracks you five share is definitely a safe space for each of them the second they come through the door <333

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

ur writing is so yummy!! i had a rlly hot idea idk tho lol

Logan holding the reader in a headlock and absolutely ravaging them 🤤

YUMMY?? Anon this is a compliment that simply makes me want to be at your beck and call 😘 and that, my dear (gn), is a very hot idea indeed. Thank you for the ask!! I’m sorry it took me like five years to finish it 😅 (also, its not the best, I’m sorry for that too 😭) but like life is… 😀😀💪💪💀💀

Anyways.

Minors, do NOT interact.

-ps: imagine any Logan you’d like! Also, comments are highly appreciated!! Beyond that, if you have a request of your own, please fire away!

Warnings: erm, I think the request has that one covered- but smut, piv, mentions of multiple positions, overstimulation, dirty talk, slight degrading?, sweet!logan even though he’s very rough, safe words. Afab reader.

————————————————————————

As far as sex with you went, Logan had one very important rule for himself: “don’t be rough.”

For as much as a part of him wanted bend your cute little self over a table and fuck you senseless until you had nothing on your mind other than his name, he knew he shouldn’t. He was worried he would break you. Genuinely worried. After all, it might be fun in the moment but the bruises from his adamantium skeleton? You probably wouldn’t be able to sit right or walk right for a week, and that’s not an exaggeration.

That’s not to say that the sex isn’t already fantastic. He’ll thrust into you with slow yet powerful thrusts that leave you shaking with every orgasm. He’ll put you in strenuous positions- time to join up with yoga!- and set every single nerve ending on fire.

But like him, you couldn’t help but want to see him let the animal out. You’d been having wet dreams about it recently, begging him to be rough with you.

Eventually he gave in, saying that this was to be a one time thing. This took SO much convincing, and it had to be on a night where you both had nowhere to be for the next couple days. Once that was settled, he finally, begrudgingly said ok, telling you that you would have to tell him to stop if you needed to. You agreed, and that’s how you landed in your bed, already on your third orgasm simply from him roughly stretching you out with his fingers and tongue.

God does he love the way your face screws up into that pleasure filled smile with your eyes closed tight. The way your head nestles into the pillows as you try to get away from him, not because you don’t like but because it just feels too good.

“L-Logan,” you whine, clutching at his hair. He groans into your cunt at the tugging, not relenting. Your legs have been quivering since your second orgasm, and show no signs of stopping.

“Gotta get you ready for me, sweetheart. Said you wanted it rough,” he mutters, before moving away from you and settling on top of you. You whine at the loss of contact even though you’re extremely excited for what’s to come.

“You know your safe word, right?” his eyes are black with lush. You nod. “Can you tell it to me, baby?” he prods. You oblige.

“Good girl,” he mutters, stroking himself a few times before lining up with your entrance. “My good girl.”

You’re positively soaked, so it’s no surprise that Logan’s able to slip in without any resistance, immediately hitting the deepest parts inside of you. You moan loudly, already on cloud nine.

“You like that, sweet girl? Well you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” he smirks, and that’s the last thing he says before pulling out all the way and slamming back into you, making you yelp his name with delight.

He takes you so many ways- missionary, doggy, mating press, screwdriver, the works, until finally…

He wrestles you so that your back is against his broad chest, his cock splitting you from behind as you’re forced to look in the mirror. And then one of his beautiful, muscular arms flexes, forcing you in a headlock for support but all it does is pour gasoline on the flame of pleasure he had been stoking within you.

“I love your arms, Logan,” you tell him stupidly as he thrusts up into you. You couldn’t even tell how many times you or he had come, and you’re so out of it that you can barely register your mixed releases seeping out of your tight hole.

“I know you do,” he teases through a grunt. “I seen you looking at them all the time. Thought you might like this.”

It’s the fact that he actually thinks about what you might like before doing it that makes you come yet again, and he chucked, holding you close but his pace unfaltering.

“Makin’ so many messes, dolly. That good?” he says right in your ear before nipping at its lobe.

“Yes,” you cry, overstimulated but feeling as though you’re on cloud nine.

You see your fucked out self in the mirror, but you’re far more focused on Logan. Logan who’s face is scrunched up with determination, his jaw clenched as he brings your hips down to meet his every thrust. Logan, who’s cock is visibly stretching you open with every single hard, fast, deep thrust.

It gets to the point where you don’t think you can take it anymore because it just feels too good. Your head is lulling against his chest, relying on his arm to support it. A dumb, fucked out smile rests on it. But then he starts rubbing in your puffy clit, and you cry. “Logannnn I can’t- I- it’s too much,” you pout, but he just chuckles right into your ear.

“Whats the matter? You been begging for this for so long and now you can’t take it? Poor baby,” he coos mockingly, his pace never faltering.

“Logan!” you whine, clenching on him as hard as you can. He grunts.

“You need your safe word, baby?”

“No!”

“Then shut the fuck up and take it,” he scolds, somehow maneuvering you so that you’re on your hands and knees, his arm still around your neck as he snaps his hips against your. You think your legs are going to give out, but you don’t care because it just feels too good. You’re whining his name over and over again, your cheek smug against his strong arm as he abuses your cunt.

“We should do this more often, huh? Let me fuck into you like you’re a dirty whore,” he grins, impossibly picking up the pace. You clench at his words. “You really are a slut for me, huh, baby?”

“Yes!” you gasp, your eyes screwing shut as he brings you to the edge again. You’re past the point of overstimulation, your limp body unable to fight back as he bruises your hips with his own.

“Good girl,” he praises, making you whimper again by pressing his fingers to your pathetic clit. He expertly maneuvers his deft fingers against it, and you cry, unable to keep the tears of pleasure at bay any more. He tuts, speeding up his pace in response and all you can do is lie back and take it, powerless to say or do anything. A few minute more and you come again with a weak groan, your legs fully numb. He follows suit, finishing and stilling inside of you.

“You okay, sweets?” he asks after taking a moment to catch his breath. Your brain is still fuzzy, your body limp against his. You’re barely conscious enough to register the soreness between your legs, much less his rumbled words.

“Baby?” he asks, obviously concerned.

“Mmm,” you acknowledge him. Tears are still slipping from your eyes, residuals from how good he was making you feel.

“There she is,” you can all but feel his smile. He slips out of you and you whine, your cunt weeping for him, leaking what is definitely too much cum.

“What a gorgeous sight,” he meets your eyes in the mirror in front of your bed.

“Mhm,” you agree. He moves to stand, knowing that you need to rest, but naturally you pout as he gets off of the bed. “Need to get you cleaned up, sweet girl,” he says gently, brushing your sweaty hair off of your forehead.

“Kiss?” you ask sweetly, your watery eyes impossible to say no to.

“Where d’you want a kiss?” he teases, kissing your forehead. “Here?” You pout, tilting your head up toward his lips. “Oh, I see. Here?” he kisses your nose. You make an annoyed noise, and he takes pity on you. “Ohh, here,” he says, kissing you sweetly on the lips.

Because even though Logan has that power to be rough, when he loves on you, it’ll always be sweet.

[reputationolivia]

try again?

would anyone be interested in this, i thought of this plot awhile back and started working on it recently but i feel like its just gotten long and idk i feel like it might be a bit boring? so idk if anyone would be up for reading this! but i put a little snippet of it here so if anyone sees this please share your thoughts! :)

18+ minors dni

warnings: none for this one yet.

summary: you and harry dated for almost 5 years but you ended things, only problem? you got a cat together three years ago that you co-parent.

wc: 1.8k

I glanced around in search for opal as I tied the laces on my shoes. She’s always been good at hiding when she sees her crate out and ready for her, but i was ready for her today with her favorite treat in hand. "Opal, where are you baby?” I called for her. pacing through the living room I heard a faint meow coming from the kitchen, and i sighed, already knowing where she would be - the narrow gap between the counter and the fridge. I bend down and waved her treat in front of her little face to get her interested in it. “Come on out sweetie,” i coaxed, slowly her fluffy face popped out of the gap and she began licking the treat. I took this as my opportunity and gently tugged her out and scooped her up, letting her have the entire treat now as I walked over to her crate.

As I helped opal get settles into her crate I tried not to think too much about the trip ahead and what’s to come. The keys jingled in my hands as i snatched them from there small side table near the front door creating a slight sound of normalcy between all of the craziness my life has been lately. I slung my headphones around my neck, and with opal securely inside her carrier i finally stepped out into the bright, sunlit street. I caught my reflection in a car window and felt a bit ridiculous - sunglasses on, headphones dangling, and cat in tow - i shrugged it off and began my journey to the subway station.

The subway ride was pretty uneventful, at least it was at first. Opal was sitting quietly in her crate beside me as she watched the window in front of us, watching the city blur through the window. I put my headphones on and mindlessly browsed through Apple Music, i eventually decided on just playing “my station” after not being able to settle on any of my existing playlists. I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular really, i mean besides the fact that I was currently on my way to meet my ex boyfriend of 4 1/2 years. As if my phone knew what was on my mind a familiar melody began playing, i felt my body tense as i recognized it immediately, my chest tightened and the air suddenly became too thick to breathe. I reached for my phone to skip to the next song. It was his song, of course it’d be my luck that’s the song that starts playing as I’m on my way to see him again. Of course, skipping it didn’t help, the damage was done.

Moving on has been hard, actually it’s been more than hard, it’s been hell, absolutely brutal. We were together for so long, four and a half years. That’s a long time to share a life with someone, it wasn’t just the memories that lingered though - it was our plans, the dreams we shared that we’d stay up all night talking about, when the world felt ours. Marriage, kids, a beautiful house with a garden, i thought it was all within reach, that it was just a matter of time. But now? Just the sound of his voice in a song sends me spiraling. It’s only been a couple months since we broke up, and seeing him as often as I do doesn’t exactly help with the whole “moving on” thing.

But now, all we have left is opal.

Opal. Our little baby. She wasn’t quite a child, but the closest thing we had. We adopted her when she was just a baby, three months old. After we broke up neither of us could bear to part with her. we had gotten her together so in the end we decided on co-parenting opal, which isn’t ideal but at the very least she had two people who loved her, and despite our failed relationship i knew she was safe with him. Even if seeing him every time i dropped her off still hurt.

The familiar ding of the subway pulled me out of my thoughts and i realized we were at our stop. I pulled my headphones back down to the back of my neck as i stood up, then grabbed opals crate and hopped off the subway. I felt like the subway ride ended far too quickly, and before i realized it i was walking up the now somewhat familiar street towards his apartment. as i got closer and closer each step i took felt heavier than the last. It felt like i was dragging the weight of everything we left unsaid, unresolved. I tightened my grip on opals crate, her quiet purring served as a reminder that despite everything, some things hadn’t changed.

But most things had.

I wasn’t the same person who used to walk the streets of New York with him by my side, laughing at the stupidest things, talking absentmindedly about everything, and nothing at all. Yet now it feels like that was a lifetime ago when in reality it was just a few short months ago. And now here i was, walking the streets of the city we once shared, alone. Having to act normal in front of the man i loved, love but trying not to as I’m about to hand over our cat like it was just some business transaction, something normal.

Ahead i spotted him standing in front of his building. He was leaning against the wall near the doors to the lobby, looking down at his phone, a casual stance that didn’t betray any of the turmoil i was feeling. Typical harry, i thought. Always composed, always calm. I wished i could say the same for myself. I reached up with my free hand to adjust my sunglasses, hoping they hid more than just the sun from my eyes. As i approached his eyes were still glues to his phone, did he even notice i was walking up to him? Now a few feet away from him, i clear my throat in hopes of catching his attention, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

He finally looks up, his green eyes meeting mine, and though he couldn’t see mine due to my sunglasses i swore i could see something flash in his - recognition? Annoyance? Regret? I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe I’m just imagining things. “Hey,” he said, finally pushing off the wall and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey,” i replied, keeping my voice as steady as i could even though every bit of me felt like breaking and like my voice was shaking with the tension of being this close to him. We walk into the lobby and i crouch down to let opal out. Immediately, she dashed out of her crate, and toward him, brushing against him with a happy meow. I couldn’t help the slight pang of jealousy i felt at how easily she seemed to adjust to this life of back and forth we’d created for her. I wish it was that easy for me.

“It’s been a while, nice shoes by the way.” Harry said as he crouched down, scratching opal behind her ears. He didn’t look at me when. He said it, instead keeping his eyes on opal. I couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a subtle dig when he said it’s been a while. “Yeah works been a bit hectic, and thanks.” I responded as i stood there awkwardly and hugged my arms to myself. Suddenly the distance between us felt a lot larger than just a few feet.

He stood up slowly, his gaze finally meeting mine, and i just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “How’ve you been?” He asked, for a moment i almost believed he actually wanted to know.

Good. You?”

“Same.” he said, glancing down at opal again.

The conversation stalled, i could feel the silence expanding between us, this is all we had now — awkward exchanges, empty words just to fill the space where something real used to be. I wanted so badly just to say something, anything that could break through the surface. I didn’t even know where to start, everything felt too different, too fragile and close to breaking. Opal meowed again, winding between our legs, completely oblivious to the tension hanging in the air between us.

I sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “She’s been eating normally. Likes to hide under the bed more often lately but that’s probably because of all the travel recently.” Harrys eyes softened a little. “Yeah, she’s always liked her hiding spots huh.” He paused, then added, “I’ve missed her.” His words hung there, suspended in the air between us for a while and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was just talking about opal. I nodded at his words, something about the way he said it lingered longer than it should have, i tried to push it aside, maybe I’m just reading too much into his words. Looking down at opal again i sighed, “i’ll uh, see you later.” I mumbled, now just wanting to get out and as far away from this awkward situation as possible. I turned to walk away before he could say anything, i felt his eyes on me as i made my way towards the lobby door. His gaze was sticking with me more than i wanted it to.

As i exited the building, i felt my footsteps heavy on the ground again. I took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air and trying to clear my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the what-ifs. How i wish i could be done with all this. I couldn’t afford to keep dwelling on our past, especially not with everything going on. At least through all this change i still had my job, and im fortunate enough to really love my job. My job has always been my escape, allowing be to take a break from my real life and everything i had going on. I could create stories outside my own, i could be in control, or at the very least, i could pretend to be. But in moments like this, i was just me - and I couldn’t pretend to be anyone else. I had no script or direction, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

The months after the breakup have been such a blur, it’s like I’ve been moving on autopilot. Filming, press events, and trying to keep it together in front of the cameras. I was good at that. I’ve played so many different roles, performed rehearsed lines perfectly, but none of that could’ve prepared me for the messy reality of seeing him. Missing him.

[ohdeerfully]

Requests? I got you 😌

Reader who made a deal with Alastor, be his informant, and he'll provide aid when needed. And reader was damn good at holding up their end of the deal, while Alastor hasn't really needed to uphold his since aid hasn't been asked for.

So what might happen when his dear little informant hasn't came back from gathering info on the Vee's?

EATING IT UP idk i love this kind of stuff thank you so much. im making this a two-parter! it was getting kinda long and i wanted to get something posted (:

Your Half of the Deal (i)

Alastor x Reader part i part ii part iiiTW: kidnapping, cursing, alastor is manipulative (per usual), alastor is in denial if you want to be tagged in the next part, let me know! join my discord! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

Deals with Alastor were, for a lack of better words, a big deal. Not something to mess around with. His twisted nature allowed him to create so many loopholes for himself, forcing one to do more than what they bargained him for. It was unfair, but that’s what happens when you make a deal with the Radio Demon.

You weren’t as lucky as the other demons at the hotel, not receiving the typical advice Vaggie debriefed any newcomer. Alastor got to you first. He got you soon after you fell into Hell, before you even knew exactly what was going on or the whole ‘soul’ thing. 

“My,” A light voice cooed from the shadows, causing you to jerk your head up. Your ass still stung from the tumble you took after falling down into god knows where. You were curled up in a dark, moldy corner, a brief respite from all the freaks that you kept running into. Your fingers–no, claws?--still aches after defending yourself from a pair of spiked thugs.

“What a poor sight. How dreadful!” He continued. You could barely make out the form of the speaker. You just knew he was tall. With blazing red eyes. His voice had a radio-like filter over it, with a general low frequency humming around himself during the silence.

He had seen you, a new fallen demon, fight yourself away from those two earlier, a wild look in your eye. How it pleased him, seeing that look somebody gets when they are desperate for their life. But you, in particular, piqued his interest. To be able to acclimate to a new body, in a new place, and fight for your life at the drop of your hat.

You seemed capable, and he liked that. He knew you were naive, fresh meat always was. And he liked that.

You had yet to speak, only looking up at him from your fetal position. But he could tell you were tense and ready to spring, if need be. He played a grin on his face and leaned down closer to you.

“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Alastor,” He held his hand out to you from his bent over position. You shook his hand cautiously. “I saw that scuffle earlier, and dear if I may say, you fight like a wild tigress.” 

You quirked your brow at this comment. “Thanks,” You replied plainly. “(Y/N).” You didn’t want to talk right now. But, you were at least glad to see a face that didn’t immediately go through your throat. 

Alastor, of course, didn’t go after those of the ‘fairer means,’ as he would put it. At least, not in a violent way. He was all for the typical manipulation.

“Even still, a fair lady such as yourself needs someone to protect her! And,” He stood up straight again, a dangerous glint in your eye. “For a price, I could be at your beck and call.”

“A price..?” You responded weakly. You had to admit, seeing this tall, confident man in front of you did seem to put you at ease. He seemed kind. And it wouldn’t hurt to have some help, if there were more creatures wanting to attack you.

“Your soul!” He said, all too cheerfully. Your mouth dried up at this. With everything that has happened to you so far, you had a hunch that the term ‘soul’ actually carried meaning in this place. But, how much..? Was it worth the protection he promised?

“More like a mutual contract, really! Mutual benefactors!” Alastor lied, seeing that hesitance in your expression. “I get your soul, you do what I ask, and I protect you! Simple enough.” 

The expression he held, with that tall grin of his, didn’t do much to calm your nerves. As chipper as he seemed, there was something to it. Something more, but you couldn’t quite tell.

“Deal?”

His glowing eyes seemed to darken as he squinted them in anticipation, his smile somehow growing wider. The static in the air seemed to crackle with more energy, almost violently, as you considered his hand that he had held out. There was an ominous aura that made your skin crawl.

Ah, what the hell. Flashes of those thugs from earlier was enough to put you on your feet. You could only imagine the other shit that lived in this place, and had a feeling they were the bottom of the barrel. You had only just managed to get away from them.

You made eye contact for a couple of seconds, the prickling sensation on your skin becoming harsher and more aggravating the closer you stepped to him. You grabbed his hand.

You were thinking about your unlucky situation–which you often did in your free time–as you gave yourself a onceover in the mirror, black eyes examining your tight outfit. A little spy getup–a little stereotypical, something you would definitely see in the movies. But, hey, it never failed you.

Thinking back, you could tell now that his words and smile were filled with deceit and manipulation. You often got pissed at yourself for how naive you were. You hadn’t even called on him once since then, and you’ve been stuck as his little pet for nearly four months now. He runs you around like a doll in a big playhouse, sending you this way and that to get intellect from his various enemies.

“I’m much too popular to be roaming in those areas!” He had claimed when you questioned why he, the Radio Demon, couldn’t just do it himself. “Demons flee at the sight of me. The Vee’s would see me from a mile away.” You had a suspicion that he just didn’t want to be seen in public making such a petty fuss over his television rival.

There was no point in dwelling on it, but you couldn’t help the occasional feeling of regret that twinged your chest when you thought too long. You were stuck as his, whether you liked it or not. 

Slicking back your hair, you finalized your sleek outfit. Another day of being thrown into precarious situations by that red asshole. It was becoming a weekly thing, with Alastor requesting more and more information, especially from those Vee’s he hated so much. In fact, now that you thought about it, they were the only demons you snuck by. How obsessed they were with each other.

It was no easy task, getting through the security of that place. In fact, it was nearly impossible, seemingly getting harder every time. You had a cautious feeling that they knew what you were up to, and kept falling short of catching or stopping you. There were cameras pointed in every direction, every angle, in the highest quality imaginable. Every trip left your heart racing with adrenaline.

“On your way now, are you?” Alastor asked coyly. He waited for you at the entrance to the hotel, a glint in his eyes. Oh, how he loved playing with you like this. Watching you bend and break for him. He loved it. And you hated him for it.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll get killed this time,” You said snidely, referencing the increasing danger of each trip. “Wouldn’t that be a treat for me.” You said this in a whisper, but Alastor still heard.

He bent at the waist to be eye level with you, that sinister grin of his lowering slightly. It seemed he had wanted to say something, his teeth parting for a moment before closing again. His grin perked back up and he straightened himself into a stand. He simply reached out and patted your head.

“Now, don’t go out with that kind of mindset! Why, you know our deal!” His lips curled in reference to the rather one-sided promise you made each other. To be honest, considering you never had to call for Alastor’s aid, you weren’t even comforted by the notion. Who’s to say he even shows up? How will he even know if you need help?

Alastor stepped towards you, his hands flapping as he shooed you out of the door. “The night is only so long! Go along!”

So, now you’re here. Tucked behind a corner near the Vee’s residence. There were cameras everywhere, obviously, and you swore you saw more than last time. What point does Alastor even have, making you come here so often? What more could he want? You knew him and Vox were rivals, but it wasn’t like Alastor didn’t know how to take care of the TV-head.

You had a sick feeling that Alastor just enjoyed making you do bullshit for him like this, and didn’t care much for the actual information. The thought drew a sneer on your face. If you weren’t literally soul bound to this guy, you would probably just let yourself get caught and likely killed on the spot. But, of course, your deal made that dream impossible. 

With a couple hops on your toes, you began your brisk walk towards the back of the manor. You were hyper aware of all the cameras, and hoped that your dark outfit helped blend with the shadows. 

However, the second you lifted a window and stepped foot into the building, lights flashed and an alarm rang. Fuck.

The television demon himself got to you surprisingly fast. As if he had been waiting. Which, honestly, wouldn’t have surprised you. You briefly wondered why it took them so long to have an alarm system in the first place, and began frantically looking for a way out. The window behind you had shut and locked. The hallway was incredibly narrow and Vox stood in the way.

Fuck it, you made a mad dash for the Overlord, hoping to catch him off guard. You raised a clawed hand and swiped at his television head. A pointless attack, you realize, as the screen nearly flickered for a moment; his wide, pixelated grin staring into you. Before you could move again, his arm tightly gripped at your throat. You felt an electrifying sensation, stinging through every nerve, and blacked out.

“Heyy, Al?” Charlie’s voice rang through the doorway of Alastor’s radio tower. “Have you seen (Y/N)..? She was supposed to help with some decorations.” She had opened the door without warning.

He paced back and forth in thought, gripping the top of his cane with one hand and tapping the end of it in his other. He didn’t respond to Charlie, but the question did ring in his head over and over. You hadn’t come back from the night before. You always came back before the day broke.

He didn’t know the feeling that stirred in his chest as he watched the minutes pass by. The hours pass by. All without a sight of you. He never thought to keep watch as you worked, refraining from sending his shadow to spy on the spy, as he always saw you as capable enough. 

Besides, he thought to himself. What a waste of my time that would be. Fretting over a single demon.

“Alastor,” Charlie said again. He craned his neck to her, stopping his train of thought. His grin had a strain to it and his nose wrinkled in aggravation. Why was she in his space? He hated intrusions.

“What?” He said bluntly.

“(Y/N)?” She spoke your name again, hoping to prompt some conversation out of the Radio demon with the implied question.

Alastor composed himself, acting unphased by the… worry? That he felt. “Why would I know where she is? I take care of this hotel, but not so much the residents.” It was a true enough statement, as he preferred just watching the demons Charlie try desperately to rehabilitate and fail miserably every day. 

“Now, if you don’t mind,” He interrupted Charlie before she could say anything, her mouth hanging open and words dying on her tongue. He briskly turned on his feet and walked towards her, standing at the doorway. “I would prefer you knock next time.” He shut the door on her.

He couldn’t handle the heavy feeling that threatened his lungs as he thought about what was happening at the Vee’s residence. 

Did he really care to go out, risk a scene, risk the intel, just to get you? To make sure you were okay?

Yeah. He had to. He hated that feeling in his chest, especially as it just grew heavier and more overwhelming. He just chalked it up to the deal he had made with you putting a pressure on his own soul to hurry up and deal with it. But he couldn’t help the tightness that consumed him when he thought about what you were doing in that place. Or what they were doing to you. He brushed the emotion aside, trying his best to ignore it.

He argued with himself that yeah, he was only going because of that deal he had made. No, no way did he have a soft spot for you. No way in Hell. He was just doing this to hold up his deal. Yeah.

With a heavy sigh and a twitch at the corners of his lips, he brushed his talon-like fingers through the fringe of his hair, pushing it back before letting it fall into place again. He tried to maintain a leisurely composure, but a wild glint in his eye was proof enough that he was stressed out.

Best to get this over with. He had a deal to uphold. He opted for the faster route, melting into his shadow.

part ii part iii

[beardedjoel]

smother - part ii: resistance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: joel knows how to break you just right, to get you feeling helpless enough to accept what he believes you need. somewhere deep inside of you, you think you might like it. 10.9k words (sorry) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) masturbation (m), nipple play/groping, manipulation, joel def has a corruption kink, joel gets a bit violent in this chapter, y'all get a lot of touching and (kissing), if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: okay i'm even more nervous about this chapter than the first, idk how it got so long but i really hope its tense and enticing for you all! i love writing dark joel, this has been such a thrill so far tbh! get buckled in for heavy duty smut next chapter too ✌️

Light spills in around the thick, heavy curtains, drawn tightly shut. Just a glowing sliver on the edges and underneath, telling you it’s at least well into the morning, that you’ve been asleep for longer than you’d expected to. Your brain is a scrambled, hazy mess from the way you’d finally been able to pass out, still encumbered by Joel’s grasp holding you down. After a while his heaviness had a calming effect, the opposite of what you’d ever thought would happen when he first came into your bed last night. But now, he was nowhere to be found, the other side of your bed cold and empty, such a stark difference that you start to wonder if maybe you’d imagined it, dreamed it all last night. 

You get up to let some light from the day in, your eyes burning as they adjust and you see that it looks to be late afternoon already. How many hours had you been out for? 

Recollections of the night before flood your brain - Joel’s warmth pressed so close to you, his hard body molding softly into yours like he knew how to keep you safe, take care of you, just like he’d said. Yet there’s still an unease surrounding the thoughts, that he’d made the decision for you, came into your bed and lied. It sends a shiver up your spine, half thrill and half fear as you contemplate what you should do next. Maybe plotting a way to Jackson is the right move, but something about Joel was keeping you here, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet. It was more of a feeling, something indescribable that came over you when thinking about him. 

Could he really save you, like he said? Or was he just a sick old man with a fantasy? One he’d fulfill before tossing you out just as easily as he’d taken you in.

You sigh heavily and sit on the edge of the bed for a few moments, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You finally decide you have to leave this bedroom sometime and face Joel again to see if those same confusing feelings from last night persist, or even to clear the air between you two. You freshen up a bit with a toothbrush and homemade toothpaste that Joel had left out for you before fixing your hair to an acceptable enough level. You creep out of the bedroom, soft and quiet movements with socks padding your feet as you listen to hear what Joel is up to downstairs. No sounds of cookware or silverware clinking on plates, no rustling on the pages of a book, no distant sound of him chopping wood outside again. Until you do hear something. 

A sound almost in between a whimper and a groan, and it’s right there, the door diagonally down the hall from yours. You freeze, brows knit together as you wait to try to hear it again. The next time you hear it, it’s more urgent, more gruff, a loud exhale. Was it a pained sound? You couldn’t quite tell as you walked closer, noticing the light spilling from a crack in Joel’s door out into the dim, windowless hallway. 

One peek through the opening in his door has your eyes widening. A gasp sticks itself in your throat but you clap your hand over your mouth when you take in the sight before you. Shit…

All your eyes immediately focus on is Joel’s cock, heavy and thick, hanging out of his pants in a tight grasp in his hand. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, practically in perfect view through this open sliver in the doorway. His eyes are closed, lost in the moment as he grunts a little bit more. You avert your eyes almost immediately, standing frozen with your cheeks burning. You’re not completely unaware, and you do have an idea of what he’s doing. You can’t help but flick your eyes back to him as another strained exhale leaves his lips, your eyes drifting down to where he’s sliding his hand in quick jerks. His cock is pink and slick as he runs his hand along it, and you start to tune into the lewd, sloppy sounds that it's all making as flesh hits flesh over and over again. You squirm in place, feeling your knees go a bit weak before you finally notice it. 

Your underwear. 

It feels like something screeches to a halt inside of you, everything moving in slower motion for a few seconds as this information sinks in. Joel’s face, turning more red and eyes rolling back as he pumps his cock with your underwear from yesterday in his other hand, a fist tightly wrapped around the material. You shudder, but find the little zing traveling further to a spot right between your legs, making you clench your thighs together tighter.

It’s all so… so… a feeling you can’t quite explain that starts to make your skin hot, and a scene you don’t know if you want to stop watching. You are just curious after all, you lie to yourself in those few seconds of continued peeking on Joel’s private moment.

You sense a difference in his movements, flashing your sight up to his face where his eyes are open now, gaze locked on yours, heavy lidded as a smile plays on his lips. He doesn’t stop, though, like you thought he would, and it practically steals the breath from your lungs. 

“Oh… sh- sorry,” you blurt out, panicky and quiet before you can think about it, covering your eyes with your palm and hastily pulling the door shut. 

Joel can’t stop smiling, a wry, devilish thing as he continues in fast, long strokes on his cock. You knowing exactly what he’s doing in here is only urging him on even more, the look in your eyes as he’d caught your stare on his glistening, ruddy cock making him harder. 

His smile grows when he realizes you haven’t stopped enjoying the show, not at all, despite your appearances of shutting the door behind you. What he realizes you don’t know, is that he can see the shadow of your feet underneath the door, tiny, anxious movements that catch the light and cast shadows. 

If you want to listen, he’s surely not going to disappoint you, another little groan slipping past his lips and he tightens his grip and speeds up, picturing you in his mind. He can practically see it now, one of your perfect little hands clasped over your mouth outside his door, trying not to make a peep, your body rigid as you lean closer to listen. Those perfect little hands that should never have to lift a finger, should always be taken care of. A pulse of pleasure wracks his body at the thought of him being the one to do that for you. 

“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely. “Fuuuuck…”

A few more swift tugs on his length and he’s stuffing your underwear right at the head of his cock, thrusting once and cumming hard into the fabric with a loud moan, the only thing on his mind the mental image of you in nothing but these. 

He’s not too weak to admit he’s already completely addicted to you. Your pretty face, the way you’d finally given him those few little smiles yesterday. How you fit so wonderfully in his arms last night once you’d decided that you needed him. Joel knows he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you as his, to make sure you understand just what you need, how you need him. He sighs as he leans back a moment, then stares down at your underwear, his creamy release staining it now looking like one of the most beautiful sights. To paint you with it himself would nearly kill him, send him into a point of no turning back. No, there’s no doubt now that he’s addicted to this… And god help anyone who tries to take it from him, even you.

The moment you hear Joel’s longer, drawn out groan you scurry away, light as can be on your feet and tiptoe down the stairs in a hurry. The mortification you’d feel if he opened the door to you standing there listening in is more than you can bear. You wish you hadn't been curious, hadn’t wanted to stop and stare just to watch just a bit longer. It wasn’t your fault that you felt completely embarrassingly lost when it came to… sex, but you know it was wrong to invade Joel’s privacy like that. He had left the door cracked, hadn’t he, though? Your brain devours the information, barely able to latch onto that train of thought before the next one comes barreling in. 

You pace back and forth in the kitchen, hands wrung anxiously over and over again in front of you. You gaze at the staircase practically every millisecond, waiting for Joel to come down, wondering if he will. You two have to confront this, right? He knows what you saw, and you certainly know what you saw, the image burned into your mind now. All the details seem hazy in your panic, but all you can think about is your underwear in his hands, and how your current pair feel damp now against your own will. You’d felt this before - attraction and arousal - but not like this. You had been so close to everything this time, not just hearing stories or thinking about kissing a boy you thought was good looking. This was a full fledged man, pleasuring himself right in the next room to you. It makes you break out in a sweat, your body hot and breathing shallow as the floorboards creak under your rushing movements. 

You sigh and continue pacing for another moment before trying to make yourself busy by putting on the kettle, maybe to make some tea, something to calm your frayed nerves. If Joel didn’t wind up kicking you straight back out into the wilderness after that debacle, you’d be surprised. Maybe you should think about kicking yourself out to avoid any of this awkwardness. You make a split second decision to grab your things and go, your first steps out of the kitchen interrupted by heavy footfall upstairs, lazily making its way down to you.

You stand frozen, your plan quickly forgotten when you see Joel, moving with confidence, his steps nonchalant and unhurried as he approaches with a satisfied look on his face. Not angry, not embarrassed, just a casual, almost smug look plastered on his features. You look at a spot past him before dipping your eyes to the floor, your face already heated and flushed. He’s wearing jeans again but this time with a plain, moss green henley shirt rolled halfway up his forearms. Another shirt showing off his strong, muscular form, and it’s killing you inside, especially now that you’ve seen just that much more of him. 

“Sit,” he says plainly, finishing his walk to the kitchen table where he pulls out a chair, settling himself down. When you dare to glance in his direction, he’s giving you a look that sends a shudder up your spine, already knowing he’s about to ask much less nicely if you don’t heed his words. Your shaky hand pulls out a chair, perching yourself on the edge, hands holding on to one another for dear life in your lap. You feel like a child about to be scolded for doing something naughty, and you suppose in many ways that’s exactly what’s happening right now. 

“J-“ you start, with Joel cutting you off before you can even get a syllable out. 

“You enjoy listenin’ to that little show? Gettin’ a little peek?” Joel asks smoothly, a hint of irritation but also gratification in his tone. He leans forward onto the table with his forearms pressed against the wood. 

“N-no I didn’t… I mean I didn’t see much. I didn’t hear… I swear. I’m really sorry, that just made things so… uncomfortable…” you ramble on, feeling like a bumbling idiot as you’re sure your body is about to catch fire. 

“Did it?” Joel asks, eyebrow lifted in casual questioning. It makes you stop, your lips sitting parted with words you can’t express, clouded by confusion. 

“Well… didn’t it? I’m - I don’t know what’s… normal… That didn’t feel…” Your eyes search his face wildly, and you know he can see you, trembling like a fawn stood in the clearing of a forest just before it bolts. 

Joel sighs out a long exhale. “Seems like you enjoyed it, standin’ outside my door.” He states it as a fact, not a guess, and your stomach twists as it sinks. How he knows is beyond you, and you can only sit in your shame now, eyes fixed downwards on the table. You’ve never found knots in wood so interesting before as you stay transfixed by the glossy surface.

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of. Just curious, weren’t ya?” he says, his voice rumbling softly. His hand inches towards you across the table and you finally get the nerve to look up at his eyes. They’ve gone gentler, full of understanding. You’re sure your expression gives everything away, your shock, your intrigue at what you’d witnessed. “Weren’t you?” he asks again, and you finally give him a little nod.

His lips twitch upwards in a wry grin just as the kettle starts to whistle, the sound ramping up rapidly into the silent room. You both stare at each other for a few moments, still processing your answer to him. The screeching reaches a fever pitch, making your skin start to crawl, so you push your chair out in a hurry to grab it off the stove. Joel’s hand shoots out, his large hand snatching your thigh, fingers wrapping around and digging into the flesh through your sweatpants. You halt, your ass plopping right back into the chair as Joel stares at you through narrowed eyes.

“I’ve got it,” he says sternly. He waits a moment longer, making sure you’re fully seated and about to heed his words before standing up. The kettle is at a deafening scream, but Joel seems in no hurry, sauntering over to the stove. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the sound tapers off, Joel setting the kettle to the side while he busies himself with reaching up to some open shelving along the wall where you see several jars full of different types of tea leaves. He’s silent, moving slowly, as if to make you sweat it out, and you admit that his plan is working. You don’t know the last time you felt such an odd, burning fear inside of you. Different than facing infected, than being so hungry without knowing where your next meal is coming from. It’s primal, deep down inside of you, meek little claws in a vice grip at the core of you, a burning that travels downward repeatedly, right between your legs. You notice you’ve started trembling without even realizing it.

He brings a steaming mug over, setting it on the table in front of you. It smells mainly of chamomile, maybe some lavender - you see Joel read your mind on wanting something for your nerves. Instead of retaking his seat across from you, he walks around the table, doing a slow, deliberate lap. His feet, although shoe-less, make an impact along the floor, and you feel like each one sounds like a drum along with the way your heart is beating in your ears. He circles back and pauses behind your chair, sliding his forearm across your chest, tucking it close to your neck.

You really were trapped now. Not just by your own mental doing, unable to make yourself leave at the first sign of trouble with this man for god knows what reason, but truly, physically ensnared by his embrace. His arm wraps tighter across the top of your chest, his hand squeezing on the shoulder where it snakes around.

“Tell me…” he leans closer, lips coming to your ear, a hint of a smirk in his tone although you can’t see his face now. “That the first cock you ever seen? Or just the first time you seen one like mine?” 

Your head swims, unsure of how to answer. He has you trapped with this question, either answer damning to you. You sputter and scoff out a chuckle, shaking your head. 

“No, you say? Which one, honey, c’mon it’s a simple question.” His arm tightens, fingers digging in along your shoulder. “No judgement here, just a curious man, thas’ all.” He says the words as if he’s expectant of a certain answer for you, following a hunch and looking to confirm it for himself. He knows, he knows, he knows. He knows you so effortlessly, reads your mind like it’s the simplest thing in the world. You worry he sees right through you right down to your debased thoughts, the ones where you give in to him and these foreign feelings you want to chase.

You shake your head again. “I haven’t…” Your cheeks burn with the confession, hoping he won’t make you actually say the words. You struggle uncomfortably in his grip, his scent invading your senses now as well, mint and leftover coffee from this morning and your stomach burns so hot you think you might be sick now. He responds with a tighter grasp, his arm starting to press a bit on your windpipe.

Joel blows out a breath, the sound nearly grating next to your ear. “Never seen a cock before till today? Till you saw mine the way you did? That so, darlin’?” He sounds amazed, excitement creeping into his voice. 

You swallow hard, fighting back tears, but you nod for him. “Y-yes…” you admit with a shaky voice, willing yourself not to cry again in front of Joel. 

“Oh, hey, hey, that’s okay. Must be an awful lot to see it jus’ like that, no context for any of it…” he murmurs, his voice oozing a sick sympathy as you sense his excitement building. “Shouldn’t have had to see it as a surprise. If it were up to me, darlin’, I’d have made sure it was perfect. Y’would’ve been amazed by the things a cock like mine can do for ya.”

He tuts quietly, his lips grazing along the shell of your ear. You squirm a little, your breathing picking up as you strain against him. You remember how much you’d liked his lips right under your ear last night, how badly you’d wanted to hate it, but here you were yet again, enjoying it. 

“Now I’m gonna ask you somethin’, honey, and I want you to be honest with me, mkay?” Joel says. Your options feel limited so you motion with a nod for him to go on, his arm digging into your throat further when your head bobs down.

“Be honest, now, remember.” He squeezes your shoulder hard. “How old are ya, honey?” His lips graze your ear again and your legs tense, thighs pressing together. You nearly have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the little moan that wants to slip out of you. 

You chew your lip, telling him the truth before you can even think about it too hard. “I’m nineteen.” You don’t know why you tell him the truth, why you give him any part of you, but you do. 

“Hmm,” he murmurs in a low little groan. His fingers brush along your shoulder, across your chest a bit, loosening his tight grip. “Thank you for tellin’ me the truth, sweetheart. I appreciate that.”

“H-how old are you?” you ask in return, getting a haughty chuckle from Joel. 

“Older’n you,” he says simply, a little growl caught in the back of his throat as his nose buries itself in your hair, taking in a deep breath.  

“B-but I told you…” you whimper a little as he tightens his hold again, leaning further to press his head into your shoulder and neck. 

“Why d’ya wanna know? Wonderin’ why an old man like me is gettin’ your panties wet?” he asks, amused at your expense, knocking you down just one more peg. 

You blink hard and feel yourself flushing again, warmth radiating throughout your body all the way down to your fingertips. You’re angry that he seems to know every damn thing about you, and you feel like you know nothing about what he’s thinking. “I don’t understand… any of it. Why -“

“It’s all natural, sweetheart. Happens when you find yourself likin’ what I’m doin’,” Joel tells you, voice starting to sweeten like honey. His hand strokes your hair, smoothing the sides. 

“I know…” you bite back, only to feel Joel move his forearm closer to your neck. Your breath hitches. “I just mean… I - I want to know how old you are.”

“You persistent little thing…” He smirks again, looking impressed by you. “I’m in my fifties, that’s all y’need to know.” He pauses for a brief second, not wasting a second to keep contact with your skin, his calloused fingertips stroking along the hollow of your neck. They trickle down, gentle and fluid as water as he ghosts along your chest and over your stomach. You shudder and try to keep your eyes open, succumbing to the pleasure of it all - nobody has ever touched you like this, taken their time to feel you out and seem interested in every part of you. It’s a slow, tortuous movement while his arms reach down over you, thick muscles on display, until his fingertips brush along your waistband. They trace back and forth along the crimped edges of the band, tied tightly. He plays with the strings, a clear contemplation to untie them any second. It makes you start to tremble even more, the way you feel powerless and know you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to.

Joel abruptly stops, pulling his arms back before he starts to walk around the chair, standing in front of you now. He doesn’t crouch to your height, standing tall and proud as he towers over where you sit. His fingers reach forward slowly and gently, thumb and forefinger taking your chin delicately, holding it like something he might break. You can finally see his expression, look into his eyes, and they’re a dark abyss full of mystery and that hungry look he’d flashed at you a few times yesterday. 

“Get the sense you’re feelin’ a bit scared right now, hm?” he suddenly asks.

You swallow and then nod for him, eyes barely blinking as you try to keep track of every single movement he makes. His grip on your chin flashes tighter for just a moment before he lets it go, leaving a little red mark in his wake.

“Good girl.”

Your stomach turns as you realize he wants this, wants your fear to permeate the room so he can devour it, to know that he has this hold on you. Joel leans forward, one hand planted on the table next to you, the other coming down to rest on your thigh. He’s tender in his touch, letting his hand soothingly find its way up your leg.

Joel’s eyes bore into you, trying to capture your attention and hold it, but you can barely summon the courage to look into those dark pools, worried they’ll draw you in forever. Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on your shaky inhales and exhales as Joel’s hand rubs your thigh.

“Don’t you like it, sweetheart? Feels good to be touched here, doesn’t it?” You don’t answer him, eyes squeezed shut even tighter, a quiver starting on your lips. You try to ignore the way your body responds to the touch, skin blazing right where he’s touching and that pooling of heat starting between your legs.

“Now c’mon, open your eyes f’me. I want to take care of you, honey. Jus’ like we agreed to last night. You need me to take care of everythin’ for ya, never make you have to worry or lift a pretty little finger again. I can show you everything.” Joel pauses, waiting to see if you’ll heed his command. His hand wraps a little tighter around your thigh, fingers squeezing.

“I said… look at me. Open your eyes. Nothin’ to be afraid of.” His voice has a shake to it from trying to keep it even amongst his building frustration, his desire to have you under his thumb already. You finally brave it, your eyes opening slowly to find a softer smile playing on Joel’s lips as his face comes into focus, just a few inches from yours now.

“I want you all to myself… d’you understand what I’m sayin’?”

You nod. His smile grows, much more foreboding now.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, fingers squeezing your thigh again, brushing his thumb along the inner part, sending a set of sparks hurtling up your spine. “And you’ll stay? Won’t try to get away from me, will you?” he asks, a wicked raise of his eyebrow telling you there’s only one correct answer here.

Your face falls a little bit. “Wh- what would you do if did?” you dare to ask.

He laughs, a mirthless chuckle before he can even stop himself. “Oh, honey, what’re you gonna do? Where’ll you go? You wouldn’t get barely ten steps outside this door ‘fore I got to ya.” His eyes pierce yours before studying your face for a few moments, challenging you. “Best that you don’t even try, yeah?”

You don’t reply, hoping that the fear in your eyes and trembling lips are answer enough for him.

“Come and sit w’me, how about that? I’ve got a few more questions for you.” Joel offers you his hand and you pause, eyes fixed on his tan, rough skin - hands that have worked hard for an entire lifetime. He takes the initiative to grasp your hand instead, giving you a quick tug that has you standing up to start following him. He completely dwarfs you in every way, his hand practically enveloping your entire fist as he pulls you along towards the couch.

You don’t know what otherworldly urge possesses you so suddenly, but you glance over towards the door, then back at Joel before you muster up everything you have and shove him square in the back, yanking your captured hand back in the process. He stumbles forward, your hand slipping from his and you quickly gain your balance and bolt. You reach the front door, fumbling with the lock and knob as you hear Joel grunt loudly behind you. 

“Don’t you understand? There’s nowhere to go, sweetheart,” he calls after you angrily. You don’t dare turn around as you fling the door open with a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, feet moving of their own accord as you sprint down the stairs and towards the oncoming woods. You can hear Joel’s huffs behind you, both of your shoe-less feet pounding on the frozen earth. It hurts, the cold ground combined with all types of brush and wood littering the forest floor that are now jabbing into your feet with every step. This was stupid, this was a mistake, you’re going to die out here if he doesn’t do it first.

“God… damn… it…” you hear Joel pant behind you, knowing he’s close, that it’s almost over now. You’re weak and frail still, much too slow to outrun a towering powerhouse like Joel. He was right - there’s no fighting it, no escape from here unless he allows it. Maybe it won’t be so bad… maybe you do enjoy the way he speaks to you, the way he’s been touching you… maybe it’ll all be just what you’ve needed. You’ve always wanted more than what you had, wishing for someone to care just a little more, to have a family again.

You lose yourself to an almost transcendent train of thought, letting it wash over you. As if the universe was trying to tell you the right decision, you feel your foot collide with something sharp and you stumble, a sure way to get you back into Joel’s arms. He catches you as you go down, upper arm squeezed into his grasp as his other wraps around and yanks you by the front of your collar, tearing your shirt all the way down to the middle of your chest as he tugs. You’re pulled into his chest with a hard thud before you both go down with the momentum of it all, his body landing on top of yours on the hard, frozen earth.

“God damn it, girl, what the hell you think you’re doin’, huh?” Joel huffs out, arms pinning you down by the wrists as he breathes heavily right in your face. You grunt and struggle, squirming against the ground, but it only serves to help Joel push you into the frosty dirt even harder, his own grunts slipping out of his lips. 

“Like it when you struggle…” he says closer to your ear, leaning down. His lips turn into a chilling leer as he bares his teeth down at you. “But too bad we can't play a little longer, you’ll freeze out here. Get up,” he demands, pulling back and then fluidly plucking your body up off the ground as he stands. He hooks one of his arms through yours and begins drags you, your feet scrambling to keep up with how quickly he’s moving. 

You’d barely gotten far, just like he said you would - it’s only a short distance back to the cabin where he slams you against the wall, clutching one hand around your throat, not hard enough to put much pressure, just to show you he could, if he really wanted to. His body crowds closer as your back presses against the hard, unrelenting wooden logs adorning the outer frame of the cabin. The chill of the air settles in and you shiver, feet throbbing and chest prickling with goosebumps from the frozen air entering your lungs in large heaves. 

“Told ya, girl. You don’t need to go anywhere. All y’need is right here. I can do anythin’ I want with ya, can’t I?” He spits his words out angrily, eyes blazing. His head is cocked, looking down on you with scornful, yet hopeful eyes. His gaze travels to your chest, the way your shirt is torn to almost reveal everything there, eyes flickering hotly on the sight. Both of you stand with huffing breaths, chests heaving and letting out little cloudy puffs of air as your exhales hit the air. 

You nod, whimpering as his grip gets slightly tighter around your throat when you don’t answer right away. Your entire body trembles against him, afraid you’ll collapse any second as your knees buckle. His entire frame is pressed against you, keeping you upright, the warmth of him the only thing keeping you grounded and afloat right now.

“Thas’ right, it’s just me ‘n you out here. I’ll take real good care of ya, never let anyone hurt ya again. Ever.” A hand snakes around to your hair, smoothing it as he pulls your head off the wall, tracing his palm down as he pets you. “Now c’mon.” He yanks your entire body by the waist, holding you close as he hauls you back inside, pulling the door shut behind you two and locking it.

Joel brings you to his original destination before you’d run - the couch - and sits back, pulling you down with him, maneuvering you to settle on his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands wrap around your back in a possessive, tight hold. You squirm a little bit, the feeling of him enveloping you like this making you hot, a sheen of sweat breaking out over your entire body.

“S-stop…” you mumble as you continue to struggle, his hands only seeming to get stronger the more effort you put in. You start to shove and push at his chest and one of his arms comes from around your back to catch your wrists in one fell swoop, pinning them against his chest. 

“Better knock that shit off quick,” he commands, grunting as he continues to hold your squirming body. “You got me offerin’ you everything I know you want, and all I ask is you do what I want, sweet girl. Be here w’me.” His tone is somehow cruel and hard but soft and caring at once, like he really believes that he needs to act this way to care for you right now.

“N-no, you’re hurting me,” you cry out. “You said you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me…” You think that maybe your reasoning will have any kind of effect on him, and he only smiles softly. It disarms you a little, your struggle starting to die out as you look at the hidden anger behind the smile, the desire to let out the hidden beast within him. 

“Let’s get one thing clear,” he says, letting go of your wrists to grip your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, squishing them together. Your hands fall limply to your sides, skin burning on your cheeks where he’s pressing in harder. “Only I can make you feel pain. Nobody else. Nobody’s gonna hurt you when I’m around. And I’m the only one who can make y’feel good too, understand? But if you’re not gonna be a good girl ‘n pull this shit, I can’t help what I’ve gotta do to get you back to bein’ good, hm?” His eyes track across your face, awaiting a response. 

You shake your head in small movements, squeezing your eyes shut and squirming one final time to try to slide off his lap. He sees your desperate eyes and his blood rushes a little hotter through him, tugging you harshly to situate you back perfectly centered on his lap.

“Please…” you whimper quietly, unsure of what you’re asking for now. To be let go? To be held tighter? For someone to just make it all okay?

Joel drops your cheeks from his tight grip and looks at you a little more sympathetically. “Okay, okay, c’mon, no more strugglin’ sweet girl. I’ve got you. Not gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help ya.” 

He leans forward and his lips find your neck, peppering wet, urgent kisses from just underneath your chin all the way down to your collarbone. It’s all too much, the emotions bubbling up as the adrenaline leaves your body. You shake a little, feeling the now all too familiar sting of tears behind your eyes that quickly manifest as tears that roll down your cheeks. Joel must sense a heave in your chest as you try to hold back your sob because he pulls his lips off of you and looks up to see your eyes shining as tears start to fall at a more rapid pace. 

“Shh, shh,” he coos. Both of his arms wrap around your back and pull you in so that your chest is flush with his. Your head drops instinctively to his body and you find yourself wrapping your arms tightly around his neck before burying your face in his chest. 

“Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. Let it all out… shh…” Joel says quietly, his palms splayed along your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing pattern. You finally break completely, finally let yourself sob. Your entire body is wracked with shaking heaves of breath each time you start another wave of tears. You bury yourself deeper into Joel’s chest, your face burning red hot with embarrassment, but unable to stop nonetheless. He’s warm and soft against you, the comforting fabric of his shirt soaking up the tears you pour out. 

Joel continues his soothing ministrations, his hands uncharacteristically kind and sweet, holding the back of your head against him now, like he’s encouraging this, even, this release of emotion from you. It makes you sob even harder to realize the only person you have in this world to comfort you is a man you met yesterday, one who hasn’t shown you a consistent side to himself since then. You don’t know how long you cry for, the last two weeks of pure desperation and the flood of emotions since meeting Joel have all collided into this one meltdown, Joel’s chest taking the brunt of it as you continue sobbing.

“Oh, that’s it, there we go…” he hums calmly, his chin resting on the top of your head as he keeps stroking along your back. You finally start to let up, choking back little sobs as they climb their way up your throat. 

“Jus’ breathe… there ya go, honey. Take some deep breaths for me now, okay?” Joel says calmly, continuing to chant little encouragements in your ear. You turn your face to lay the side of your cheek along Joel’s chest for a moment, a few remaining hiccups shaking your body as you sniffle. Your entire face feels puffy, like everything is two sizes too big for you now, cheeks wet and sticky as your tears start to dry. You slowly lift your head up and Joel quickly catches your face between his hands, thumbs going to work wiping your tears.

“Beautiful…” he murmurs as his eyes scan your flushed, glowing face. His lips turn into a gentle, small smile while he continues to wipe down your cheeks for a moment longer. “Now don’t that feel better?” Joel looks at you with concern now, his head tilting as his fingers continue to stroke along your face. You look so broken and fragile right now - the thought exciting him, sending a twitch beneath his jeans that he doesn't even have the mind to be ashamed of. You're close... so close to being his.

“I g-guess…” you murmur, unable to say if it really does feel much better. You feel lighter now, unburdened of the pent up emotions that had been weighing you down the last few weeks, but you still had to grapple with the fact that you were here now, with a dangerous man who seemed intent on keeping you here no matter what.

“Listen, darlin’...” Joel starts, a heavy sigh escaping him. “You’re too sweet for this world, you deserve to be protected… That’s all I’m tryin’ to say here, to do here. You wanna know what I thought when I first saw ya?”

Your eyes widen in curiosity, letting him go on.

“Thought that the universe sent me a gift. One look at ya and I knew you had to be all mine. Like y’were made for me, I swear it…” he gushes before his eyes go more serious. “I can show you how good it all feels, sweetheart, d’you understand?”

You shake your head slowly. “S-show me how good what feels?” you ask tentatively.

Joel leans forward, his lips brushing along your jawline then ghosting to that sensitive spot under your ear. His breath tickles you in just the right way and you shudder, hating that he seems to have pinpointed your weakness.

“Show you… just how good it feels… to submit to me.” His lips press onto your neck gently, his tongue poking out to taste the salt of your skin. “Show you what your place is here.” He sucks a little harder on your neck, eliciting a tiny sound from the back of your throat. “I’ll give you everything, you’ll see. I can see you want it, sweet girl. I can see how badly you need it.” His hips thrust upwards into yours on his last words, grinding against you slightly. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips kiss your neck again, rough but gentle, as Joel always seems to be. You squirm, your body and mind still mixing signals with each other, unsure if you’re fleeing or giving in. 

You consider his words heavily, the weight of them pressing down on your chest, nearly choking you. It makes your entire body tingle, the way he’d said the word submit, not even fully understanding all of what that would entail. But he’s right, you do need someone, you need something in your life that won’t fail you or run or disappear. You’re desperate for it at this point, needing it like you need air and water. You’ve seen nothing but loss and sadness and lived with a desperation to just be loved and cared for in the deepest ways. 

Maybe it was fate, like he said. Maybe you were meant to stumble into that clearing just at the right time, just when you so fiercely needed everything he’s offering to you. 

He pulls back and stares into your eyes, trying to read the look behind them, trying to gauge how you’ll respond as you sit silently. You feel tears building on the rims of your eyes again, quickly wiping them away before they can fall. 

“Let me show you, hm? How I’ll take care of you.” He thumbs your chin as he stares at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. “We need to get some more food in you, darlin’. Barely ate a thing yesterday.” His bargains immediately begin to work as you notice your stomach rumbling and empty again as if on cue. You nod slightly and he gives you a half smile.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Now hold on tight.” Before you can question him further on why, he’s lifting you up off the couch, and your arms scramble to fling around his neck so you don’t fall backwards. Your legs wrap around his middle for extra support as he carries you to the kitchen table, settling you down on top of it now, legs dangling off the side as he lets go of his grip under your thighs. You find yourself reluctant to untangle your arms and legs from his warm, safe body, but he begins to pull away, heading for the fridge. You watch him with a frown as he bends down, shuffling a bit in the fridge before pulling out an item wrapped in a thin cloth. He opens a breadbox on the counter and reaches in, tearing off a chunk of bread before plating it and unwrapping the block, revealing some type of cheese.

“Sheeps cheese from Jackson. And some bread I made. Should tide y’over till dinner time, don’t you think?” he asks, bringing the plate over. He nudges your legs apart with his knee, a silent command that you follow mindlessly before he steps in between your thighs. One hand brushes along your thigh as he gets closer to you, eyes pasted right onto yours. His near glare is nearly too much to keep focused on as he grabs the piece of bread and brings it up to your lips. You pause, gaze faltering as you scan his face, a little stunned.

“Y’need some food, darlin’. Now eat.” Another command, another test to see how pliant you are, how willing you are to accept the entire package he offered you. You crane your neck forward enough to bite down on the piece, tearing some off as he holds it for you, never breaking eye contact with him. His eyes quickly flash back to a satisfied, pleasant look from the darkness that had threatened them moments ago.

“Good girl.” The words burrow in a little more, your thighs tightening against his, sending Joel gazing down with a smirk pulling at his lips. “Another,” he says quietly, holding the bread up to your lips again. You don’t falter this time, taking a quick bite and chewing as Joel smiles down at you, letting his thumb brush across your lips.

“You’re bein’ so good f’me now, what happened?” he says smugly, picking up the cheese and feeding you again. Each time he does it, you take the food more eagerly, Joel stepping closer until he’s pressed against the table, his hips as close as they can be to the apex of your thighs. You can sense the excitement radiating off of him now, the pure satisfaction that you’re not putting up a fight, accepting the care he’s pouring out onto you.

“Now you see how I can take care of you, darlin’? That’s just a small thing, honey, makin’ sure you get fed. Now tell me how much you appreciate it, hm?”

You feel your cheeks warming up at the blatant coaxing from Joel, the way the heat of his body presses so close to you now as his finger lingers on your lip after the last scrap of bread goes in.

“T-thank you, Joel,” you say, quiet and mousy as you avert your eyes downward.

“Oh, such a good girl.” He pets the top of your head down the side, stroking a gentle, long path down to your shoulder. “Feel better now that we got you full?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Y-yes, thank you.” Mousy. Quiet. The way Joel seems to like, the way that you can’t help but be when he questions you like this, when his eyes search your depths so intensely. Your heart clenches at just how quickly he’s already worked his way in, has you saying just what you know he wants to hear. 

“Not bad for an old man baking bread, huh?” he asks, winking as he caresses your cheek. You tilt your head down, failing to conceal your little smile in time as a breathy chuckle makes its way out of you. You can sense the lightness fill Joel and the entire room as he notices, cocking his head and leaning closer to you.

“That a smile I see, darlin’? You think it’s funny to call me an old man?”

You shake your head, pulling your lips tight to suppress your smile. “N-no, you’re n-not…” 

“Oh, too sweet, ain’t you.” He wraps his arms around your middle, drawing you close again. “Y’know, you’re so pretty when you smile. This old man’d like to see more of that, y’know.”

Your smile falls quickly as discomfort settles in again at the way he’d cracked through your façade just now.  “Why haven’t you just… hurt me yet? Or done what you want with me and tossed me out?” you ask suddenly, blurting the words out before you can think twice about the possible consequences. 

Joel clicks his tongue and lets his lips part slightly, showing his surprise - a rare moment from such a guarded man. 

“That what you think this is?” he asks quietly, forebodingly. The pure control in his voice is a skill that you can tell he’s exercised many times. “Just want to squeeze the life outta you and toss your body out for the damn animals? Or fuck you senseless then turn you to the cold? You really think that little of me after I fed you, clothed you, helped you?”

He doesn’t sound quite angry, but something deeper that takes a minute for you to register - you’ve hurt him. Wounded his ego, made a dent in this brick wall of a man. A power you suddenly wish you didn't have over him.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” you admit. “You scare me.”

He leans forward, his dark irises going icy as he captures your rapt attention with this one single glance. 

“I should,” he spits out with a twitch of his lip. “But only if you give yourself reason to, yeah? I never want to hurt you, sweetness, never.” He goes softer, brushing a finger along your cheek, sending you trembling with a quivering lip. “Jus’ want you to be here w’me, lettin’ me take good care of you, and you do the same f’me. Somethin’ so beautiful here, you ‘n I…”

You sigh heavily, your body slumping in defeat. You’re exhausted, your nerves frayed and mind overstimulated from all of the inconsistencies, the back and forth with him. If what he says is true, if he wants to treat you kindly, give you all he’s promised, you know what he expects in response. You can feel it in the undertone of every word he says, every tiny movement when he touches you. He wants you to belong to him, to have you sucked so completely into his world there’s no going back. To have you fear him and look in wonder at him and worship at his feet and let him touch you and feel you and be completely yours and you be completely his. Your head spins, a dizzy sickness overtaking you at how utterly lost you feel right now. How badly you crave it and are equally repulsed by it. 

You dip your head down, eyes on your lap as you let the wave of churning fear wash over you.

“Eyes up, darlin’,” Joel reminds you, fingers tracing on your thigh to get your attention. 

“I… believe you,” you say, turning your gaze to him again. It’s not an answer yet, not a yes or no or anything at all. A fact.

“I know you do,” he says, a serious expression curling into a smile. “Only say what I mean. Are we clear, then?”

Joel’s face inches closer to yours, leaving just a few inches between you, now. “Y-yes,” you mutter, rapidly scanning over his eyes to try to read anything there but the inky darkness that seems to permeate above all else.

“Good,” he says proudly. “Now gimme a smile, darlin’. Need to see you lookin’ happier ‘round here.”

You pull your lips into a tight smile that seems to suffice for Joel as he carries on, moving until his lips hover just above yours. You notice yourself starting to tremble a little bit, shoulders tightening up, and Joel holds you close as his brows come together.

“You ever kiss a man like me, darlin’?” he whispers, licking his lips.

Your lips part, words failing you for a moment as you contemplate him. Your throat is suddenly dry and itchy as you glance down at Joel’s lips. “N-no…” You shake your head. “I haven’t… haven’t been with… anyone…”

Joel stills completely for what feels like minutes, his lips twisted to the side in a wry smile now. “You sayin’ you’re a virgin?” he asks bluntly, his hands naturally tightening their grip on your back, fingers digging in as they slide a little lower towards your waist.

Your face burns first, then your entire body is set aflame as embarrassment sets in. You know you shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you can sense Joel’s experience, almost having some strange need to impress him with your own, coming up empty. Your eyes look down, staring at the middle of his shirt before you nod once, blinking away a quick sting of tears at your sudden humiliation. 

“Christ,” Joel bites back all the things he wants to say for a moment and tuts as he notices your glassy eyes, scraping his fingers along your back. He tightens his hold on your waist and tugs you even closer so that your hips are flush with his. He moves his lips right next to your ear, making you shudder as they brush close enough to touch for a moment. “Had a feelin’. You have no idea… how turned on that makes me, sweet girl.”

Joel’s crude words have you gasping a little, a breath caught in your throat as you stutter out a sound to try to answer him. His lips press on your neck again, kissing a little more fervently down to your collarbone and then he pulls back, one hand going to your face to cup your cheek. 

“Such an innocent little thing… so sweet…” he murmurs. “‘S okay to touch me, y’know.” Your hands tingle with anticipation as he says that, but you don’t know how to move them, where to move them to, or if you want to touch him.

“I - I don’t…” You shake your head, and Joel captures one of your hands in his, holding it gently and rubbing his fingers along yours. 

“I got ya, I’ll show y’everythin’ you need to know, how’s that sound?” he says, gazing down at you intently, waiting with baited breath to hear your response. 

“You mean…” you ask, cheeks flushing as you’re unable to finish your sentence. Joel places your hand on his chest, spreading your fingers out to splay across the space between his pecs. He nods softly and you wiggle your fingers a little, feeling the planes of his chest, hard but warm underneath your palm. He glances down to where your hand explores a little more, running your fingers gently over to the right side of his pecs, then the left, and smirks. 

“I mean all of it, you sweet little thing. You don’t know how good y’could feel, do you?” Joel breathes a little heavier, his expression losing a bit of its controlled façade, that vague look of craving revealing itself in his eyes again. “I could give you so much… oh, you pretty thing, you need it.” He shakes his head in disbelief of everything he’s learned about you. “Untouched… so innocent…” he says more quietly, his hands finding their way back to your waist, thumbs hooking under the waistband at the back of your pants.

“I’m n-not sure… I-I don’t know -” you stutter as you feel his thumbs touch bare skin before one of his hands trails under your shirt, moving upwards. Your eyes blink a little slower, a flutter of your lashes as his calloused pads scrape along your skin, leaving a blazing trail that tingles all the way to the base of your spine. It pools quickly there, your core starting to heat up as his hand travels higher, the other playing at the hem of your shirt, starting to lift it. Your breath hitches, eyes going wider as your shirt moves, but you don’t squirm, don’t try to stop him.

“Y’do know. I can see you want it, sweetheart, look at how you respond to me…” He breathes in and out a little shakily. “Respond to a man takin’ good care of you…”

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your back almost halfway exposed to the air.

“Think you know what I’m doin,” Joel huffs a stony hearted chuckle. “Just wanna see how pretty y’are, take a peek, thas’ all.”

You shrink back a little, eyebrows pulled close together, shaking your head in small movements. “I’m scared…” you whimper finally, showing Joel the fear that’s been building deep inside of you. You don’t know how to want this, when to know your body is telling you it’s okay. You’ve somehow lost complete trust in any of your instincts, unsure of where along the way that happened. 

“I know, I know,” he purrs, still pulling your shirt higher. His lips dart down to your stomach, where your bare skin is starting to show, kissing sloppily along all the fresh skin he hasn’t seen yet. He starts speaking against your body, kissing in between his words. “Nothin’ to be scared of when you got me though, y’understand? You let me take care of you, and you’ll never worry a day in your life. Be my good girl, my everything. Just gotta trust me.” His nails dig into your back, a sweet, welcome pain, bringing you to the present. It’s too easy to lose yourself to his lips, his touch, his words. Your hand stays steadily placed on his chest, barely daring to move now.

You stare with your mouth open, and at your silence Joel drags his mouth up your chest and to your neck before looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t… know…” you murmur, less convincingly than the other times, an observation that Joel doesn’t fail to notice. He gathers the fabric of your shirt and tugs on the front hem of your shirt, pulling it taut along your back, drawing you closer to him as his lips sit merely an inch from yours.

“Think y’do know,” he says, greedy hands under the front of your shirt now, pulling the hem up. “I’ll be so gentle, honey…” He pulls your shirt up further and you drop your hand from his chest, allowing him the freedom of movement he needs to finish the job. 

“Okay…” you whisper, unsure if the two syllables even resonate far enough to reach Joel’s ears. You start to feel your legs trembling as you see his face registering your one word, the only thing he’d needed to hear. 

“Good girl,” he breathes out, exuding pure elation. “Oh, I’m gonna make you so happy, darlin’, gonna give y’everythin’.” He practically snarls as his hands get back to work on your shirt, lifting each of your arms to tug them through the sleeves, then tossing your shirt aside after it's over your head.

A growl tumbles out of his throat when he takes in your breasts, and you hunch your shoulders up a little more, your arm flying up to cover your chest now that it's exposed. Joel’s hand grabs your wrist, strongly wrapped around it as he tugs it away.

“Don’t have to hide ‘em from me, nothin’ to hide from me now,” he snaps, tossing your arm back to your side. His hands reach up to tease at the swell of your breasts, and you sit half in shock, letting his fingers send tingles across your skin as he explores your chest. He runs errant fingers down along the curves as he stares downwards. Your breath catches when he rubs his thumbs over your pebbled nipples, you back arching towards him as you gasp. 

“So soft ‘n pretty…” He grins, continuing to watch the way his hands work along your skin, a little more rough as he gropes your tits, rolling your nipples just to observe your reaction. The little pinch sends waves of arousal through your body, pooling deep inside of you, making you feel your underwear get damp again. You’re already panting, the sensations he’s bringing out in you so strong that you can hardly contain the little noises slipping out of you as he continues touching your chest.

“I - I’m…” you pant. “Joel…”

He pauses for just a moment, leaning closer and brushing his lips across your cheek. “Know you’re feelin’ good, aren’t ya?”

You nod dumbly, completely awestruck as he pinches your nipples again, sending your back arching and hips pressing into his. It’s maddening and confusing all in one, the way he’s able to work your body like this and make you feel a hot burning starting to blaze across your skin. 

“Pretty girl never had her tits touched, has she?”

You shake your head urgently, a breathy moan pulled out of your throat as he pinches and tugs a little harder on the hard buds. “P-please… stop… it’s too…” you whine, scrunching your face, unsure if you actually want him to stop. You feel wild, feral almost, the strangest sensation pulling at your insides as he tugs one more time.

Joel smirks in satisfaction, going back to caressing you more lightly, giving you some relief. One hand travels down to rest on your hip, the other up to your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. 

“You’re fun to play with, jus’ like I thought you’d be…” Joel muses as he touches your face. “You’re bein’ so good f’me, too, honey. Lettin’ me see you ‘n touch you.” He looks at you almost curiously now, like he’s studying you. 

“Think you deserve a little reward for bein’ so good for me, finally seein’ some sense.” He pauses, watching your face morph into a soft, intrigued look. “How’s that sound, hm?” he asks, pinching your cheek. 

You tilt your head at him. “A reward? Wh-“

“Exactly. If you act like a good girl, gotta reward ya for it.” Your heart beats a little faster as you take in his words, your thighs clamped as his voice comes out low and teasing. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his fingers around your cheek and pulling you closer as he leans in. “You deserve to feel good, do you realize that? You’ve been denyin’ yourself somethin’ so good, but turns out it was so that I could show ya.”

“I - Joel - I don’t know…” you blurt out, your stomach twisting. The fact you can barely say anything but those same three words over and over is starting to frustrate you. 

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now,” Joel replies, his hand now cradling the back of your head. “You’ll enjoy this.”

He leans forward again, completely closing the gap between the two of you as he presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first, testing you, and you blink once in surprise, not able to force yourself to press your lips back into his at first. But your body naturally starts to melt into him a little, his hand stroking against the back of your head calming you into submission. Your hands twitch forward, gently touching the bottom hem of his shirt and holding onto it just slightly. The feel of the fabric grounds you as you feel your lips press back into Joel’s, sending a wave of heat over your body. Your cheeks burn and your skin prickles as he groans quietly and pushes his lips a little more aggressively against yours before pulling back slightly. 

He looks down at you with a smirk. His hand digs into your waist a little harder, the possession he’s feeling clearly evident. 

“Tastes sweet, darlin’,” he says quietly before leaning back in, kissing you again. Your hand tugs a little harder on the bottom of his shirt and you feel yourself cracking under the pressure, like you’re about to burst into a million little parts like a piece of dropped china.  

His mouth opens and invites you to do the same, so you follow his lead. You’re frustrated, unsure of yourself, not understanding the way your body just moves with his, mirroring his motions. 

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe your first kiss is supposed to feel just like this. Maybe you’re supposed to be afraid and unsure and terrified yet intrigued in a way you can’t ignore. You wouldn’t know any different, after all, and your body already yearns for Joel to keep going, to press his lips harder onto yours, to feel his warm, soft lips all over you. You don’t even quite understand where the thoughts come from, it’s like your body is telling you without your mind having to get involved. 

You open your mouth the tiniest bit, allowing Joel to kiss you deeper. He pulls back just enough to suck a little on your bottom lip and you whimper and your brows scrunch. How… how could it feel so good?

As if to send you asking that question a hundred more times, one of his hands skates his fingers up your spine and you shudder, falling apart just as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You nearly gasp but find your own tongue hesitantly brushing against his. He hums quietly in satisfaction, continuing the motions of his tongue with small variations - darting into your mouth, licking your lip. 

You feel your entire being aching and warm now with the way Joel is pressed as close as he can, hips flush with yours. You want to move your own hips, to push them further and further, your body urging you on again without telling you quite what it’s doing. 

You yank your head back, completely breathless. Joel’s hand scrambles to the back of your head, holding it in place as he devours your lips again, not letting up just yet. 

“Wasn’t done w’you yet…” he mumbles before kissing you again, his tongue and lips more aggressive now as his hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping tightly. When he’s had his fill he tucks his head back enough to get a read on your expression, smirking. He sees the wonder in your eyes, the confusion, the struggle, but he welcomes it all, now. He knows he has you - his prize, his to keep, his to take. He can practically feel the ache of want oozing out of your pores now as you sit trembling slightly on the table, your soul and tits bared to him, equally enticing. A perfect paradox, he thinks.

You look so perfect - like a pure, innocent angel sent just for him. He knows you can be exactly what he’s looking for - someone to call his own, to protect and guide and keep close to him. His perfect girl.

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent and musk like it’s the last time he’ll ever get a chance to before his lips rumble against you. 

“Lemme take you upstairs, show you how to be mine," he offers, in a way that's not an offer at all, but an instruction, a test.

He’s quiet and seductive with his words, a low, gravelly lilt to his voice that makes your head swim. You’re hazy, a practically drunk feeling coming over you now - cloudy and out of control of your own body. 

Before you can stop yourself, body buzzing and lips puffy and parted in need, you nod for him.

reminder i have no taglist now! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs!

[weebsinstash]

Random 'extra yandere' Alastor things because I've been working on a fic and I feel like my yandere aren't yandere'ing enough

- I haven't seen anyone mention this as an idea but like ... why do I see Alastor getting cuteness aggression from his darling? You're really happy and you like idk say something genuine or goofy or happy or you stim or something and he's here "oh, i could just eat you up!" and hugging you so hard it makes you wheeze for air. Would he ever bite you though? Or gently "roughhouse" you? He's kinda feral w it so 😳

- Alastor strikes me as a yandere who would dry your tears with one of his handkerchiefs and then some time later you find out he didn't wash it because it had You Juice on it

- I'm not saying he's hiding in the bushes with a Polaroid or anything but I feel like he'd constantly invite you along to parties or events he's going to where he knows pictures might be taken and he has an absolutely HUGE album of you. He prefers sepia and black and white photographs the most of course, but he'll accept the occasional social media print-out that he may or may not have forced someone else to acquire for him

- this is so lowkey funny but the idea has been growing on me of like. Alastor forcing literally fucking forcing Husker to help him with his obsessive bullshit because Husker has a cellphone. Alastor sees Husker thirstscrolling through Angel's social media, and suddenly the Radio Demon has an idea. "You wouldn't happen to be able to look up my, er, little friend would you?"

Imagine you're like out running errands or even st a club or, somewhere NOT the Hotel and you're suddenly getting a call from... Husker? How weird, he doesn't call you often and you only have his number as another Hotel-goer, so hopefully nothing is wrong? And you answer the phone to Alastor talking far too loudly into the receiver, "HELLO? HELLO, IS THIS BLASTED THING WORKING? I DONT WANT TO BRING IT TOO CLOSE TO MY FACE BECAUSE OF THE RADIATION AND ALL, HAVE YOU PICKED UP YET MY DEAR? HUSKER MY BOY YOU SAID THIS DEVICE WAS WORKING-" like literally actually, this grown ass man who is forcing this other grown ass man who i think age wise is also older than him to do shit like, "what's that photograph in their publications there? Select it. Why is that man standing so close to them? What does HIS 'page' look like? He seems like a rather unsavory fellow who shouldn't be around someone as sweet as-"

- i feel like Alastor has a lot of threatening power purely in his social connections and his own little net of information. Imagine sneaking away from him to go to a speakeasy or something and the bartender already has your photo and knows to keep an eye on you and give Alastor a call if you show up. Imagine going to a jazz club Alastor had taken you to and everyone is nice and friendly and maybe a little TOO friendly because they heard an entirely true rumor about a man who got torn to pieces for asking aloud "so who's that sweet piece over there?" referring to you while Alastor was within earshot

- I dunno if I've mentioned this before but. I like the idea of him meeting his red string soulmate and he's just immediately "well I suppose the proper thing to do is get married then!" Like the man considers it "the traditional way to do things" and just immediately decides that since you two are essentially eternally bound together already, OBVIOUSLY the next step is to be married! I'm talking week one you meet this man and he's insisting the two of you immediately find a living place to share together. Like he might not even be "full yandere" yet but he starts putting you through the motions and gets progressively more attached with time. Day 1 is exchanging names and pleasantries. By Day 4 or 5 he insisting you two sleep in the same house, and eventually, the same bed (partially because he may or may not. Miss you when you're gone)

- imagine a yandere Alastor who is so unwilling to part with you that if he needs to go torture someone or do something unpleasant, he'll just... bring you along. Leaves you nice and cozy in a nice chair with a hot cocoa as he excuses himself to the next room followed by UNIMAGINABLE SCREAMS OF SUFFERING before he returns dripping with blood, "Boy, that one was a GUSHER!" *proceeds to kiss your forehead and drip blood on you and does not care*

- ok so I haven't posted this yet but. Imagine if instead of "patching themselves back together" that when you die in Hell you just respawn in a new body and the old one is still left behind, and you get into a random accident and die and you find out Alastor has been keeping pieces of your body and he's been. Eating you. Drooling heart pupils level of down bad, gorging on your meat, bare handing raw dogging that shit, having your blood seeping between his teeth and fingers. Imagine going into his room and there's a fridge and you open the door and you can tell it's your body because there's just like a whole ass leg that has your tattoo or an old scar. How do you even have that fucking conversation.

You go to shut the fridge and decide you're going to pretend you never saw anything because now you know Oh My God He's Like Actually Genuinely Fucking Nuts and he's already behind you when you turn around😱 and he acts like nothing is wrong. May even joke about how good you taste. Tells a joke about how it would be rather unfortunate if you got hit by a car again, but, hey, maybe you should give him a call whenever more of your meat is available-

- I wanna make a fic out of it because I literally have the fic outlined in my head already but, you know how he's eating just a normal fucking deer in that one episode. Or, if it's not an Earth deer, it doesn't look like it's from Hell at all. I started thinking about what if certain demons know shortcuts or special tricks to still access the human world (if blitz can get a crystal, why not anyone else?) and I love the idea of a Farmer Reader who has wolves eating their livestock and you stake out in the woods in the dead of night and you find out the wolves are only eating your sheep because something has been eating all the deer, and you witness the Radio Demon with your own eyes, horrified at this horned humanoid creature that bends and snaps at angles that just aren't right, with you managing to snipe him right through the head, and he just laughs and praises you for your great shot, and he keeps repeatedly ahowing up on your farm, and he unintentionally or not causes your death and wants you to be with him in Hell. Like you're a good person but you've also done shit where he knows you're gonna go to Hell so he's doing some dramatic shit like cradling your dying body and being all :) eerily happy and jovial as he muses what you might look like "in that awful place down below"

- Hmmmm. Alastor allegedly isn't very materialistic but I like the idea of like. Once he decides how cute and sweet and adorable his darling is, he wants to get you only the best. It won't be, like, EXCESSIVE in the sense Vox could be, but, if he gets you gifts, they're always of a certain level of quality. If he begins to style and dress you, he wants you in high quality fabrics that will last and don't have any unsavory materials or harsh colorants in it. I may or may not like the idea of him taking you to a tailor and he gets you an outfit to match his very own and if anyone ever gets a speck of dirt on it or anything else he's gotten you to wear, they're getting absolutely fucking MOLLYWOPPED

[mariasont]

hi love 🫶🏻 could you write spencer x reader inspired by taylor's "renegade"? there is one fic like that but spencer is as the one taylor sings about there and i was thinking you could maybe do the opposite where reader is the one who this song is about? idk if my explanation makes sense 😭 anyway, have a nice day!!

Messy - S.R

a/n: okay i wasn't sure if this is exactly what you wanted but i hope i did it justice and im so thankful you sent me this request <3 im so sorry it took soooo long for me to get to it, ilysm i hope you're having the best day

also this one is so near and dear to my heart like i choked myself up writing this hahahah so i hope you all enjoy

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: depression, unhealthy coping methods, hopeful ending <3

wc: 1.5k

The clock on the wall ticked quietly, a soft sound that somehow seemed louder in the silence of the apartment. The hour hand had long since crept past midnight, but you stayed where you were--curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, a forgotten book spread open in your lap. This is where you had been for an amount of time that you were embarrassed to admit.

The words on the page blurred together, your eyes tracing the same sentence for the fifth time. You weren't really reading. Not anymore.

The faint sound of Spencer's footsteps broke the quiet as he appeared out of the darkened hallway. You didn't need to look up to know he was watching you, a concerned crease in his brow and sleep tousling his hair. You could feel his gaze--soft, searching and damningly knowing.

"You're still awake." It wasn't a question.

You shifted, turning the page like you were engrossed in the story, even though you hadn't absorbed a word. When you glanced up at him, you shot him a smile--a careful, practiced one that didn't quite reach your eyes.

"Couldn't sleep."

Spencer didn't say anything right away, but you could hear him moving closer, the weight of his steps seeming hesitant--like he wasn't sure whether you wanted company or space.

You weren't sure either.

The thought of him sitting next to you wrapped around your lungs like a too-tight band, the way it always did when someone got too close. And yet, the thought of him staying away constricted something deeper, something you weren't sure you could name.

Finally, the corner of the couch dipped as he sat beside you, close enough for the invisible wall you had built to feel less solid. It felt like something similar to sunlight filtering through a curtain's tear.

"What's on your mind?"

You blinked, fingers picking at the worn edges of the book's pages as if they might pull apart and reveal something you weren't able to put into words.

"Nothing." You said it too quickly. Brittle. Then, because you could feel his eyes on you--seeing through you--you added, "It's silly, really. Just overthinking.

You tried to make it sound dismissive, punctuating it with a small laugh that you were sure came out quiet and hollow. "You don't need to worry about me, Spence. I'm fine."

"Fine," he repeated softly, like the word tasted wrong on his tongue.

His voice was so gentle, but you could feel every last bit of unspoken concern wrapped inside it, the way it always was when you said you were fine. You hated that--hated that he could see through the cracks you worked so hard to hide. You wanted to tell him it was better this way, safer for both of you. You didn't want to scare him or worse drag him into the parts of yourself that felt sharp and broken.

You could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, cataloging your body language, the way your smile faltered, the way you fidgeted with the book like you needed to keep your hands busy to avoid cracking open.

Spencer tilted his head, continuing to study you, but he didn't call you out on the lie. He never did--not directly. Instead, he adjusted his posture, sinking further into the couch like he intended to stay.

"What are you reading?" He nodded towards the book in your lap.

You glanced at the cover and felt the heat creep up your neck. 

"Oh, um... something I grabbed off the shelf earlier." You flipped it shut, careful not to let him see how little progress you'd actually made. "It's good. Just... taking my time with it."

It was such a small thing to lie about, but you were clinging to any shred of normalcy. You didn't want him to see this version of you--the one who stared blankly at pages, lost in spirals you couldn't quite explain.

"That's okay, you know," Spencer said quietly. "Taking your time."

You knew he wasn't talking about the book, not really. Before you could deflect, his hand moved gently across the space between you, his fingertips brushing up and down the length of your arm.

The touch was so soft--barely there--but it distracted you. You exhaled, a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, and let your eyes flutter shut for just a moment. It had been so long since you let yourself be in his presence, let yourself lean into him without pulling away.

“Did you know that depression physically changes the brain,” Spencer said suddenly, his voice low and conversational, like he was talking about a science fact and not you. “It affects the hippocampus, the amygdala—the areas responsible for regulating memory, emotion, and stress.”

You swallowed, opening your eyes again, fingers still fussing with the book. “Spence…”

He continued, his tone gentle, as though he were easing you into the truth. "The hippocampus actually shrinks during prolonged depression. That's the part of the brain responsible for processing memories, for distinguishing between what's important and what's not. That's why it feels so hard to concentrate. Why sometimes everything feels... too much, even the little things."

You stilled under his touch, gaze focused on the closed book. The words he was saying were clinical, sure, but the way he was saying it made your heart clench.

"And the amygdala?" he continued. "It's the emotional center of the brain. In people with depression, it becomes overactive, and the body starts reacting to stress like it's always in fight-or-flight mode. Even when there's no threat. Even when you're safe."

Spencer paused, letting the words sink in, his fingers tracing slow, soothing lines down your arm. You could feel him watching you, but you couldn't look at him yet. You weren't sure you wanted him to see the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

“I’m not trying to analyze you,” he added quickly. “I know it probably sounds like that. But I'm telling you this because I want you to understand that it's not all in your head."

He hesitated, then nudged you gently, his hand squeezing your arm as if to reinforce his words. "This isn't some character flaw or something you've invented. Your brain--your body--feels this, physically. It's real."

You blinked, and the first tear fell. His words cracked something inside you--not because they hurt, but because you hadn't realized how badly you needed to hear them.

"It's like..." Spencer searched for the right words, brow furrowing. "It's like being stuck in a room with a broken thermostat. You're freezing, and everyone else is telling you it's warm because they can't feel what you feel. But just because they can't see it doesn't mean it isn't happening. You're not imagining the cold."

"You're not a problem that needs solving," he murmured. "You're not too much. You're enough, exactly as you are."

Something snapped in your chest--sharp, small, and unexpected.

"I'm not trying to save you," Spencer continued, like he could sense the thought forming on your tongue. "I just... I want you to let me stand beside you. Even if it's messy. Even if it's hard."

You sniffled, swiping quickly at the tear trailing down your cheek, and glanced up at him with a small, wobbly smile. 

"Even if it's messy?" Your voice trembled slightly, but the hint of a laugh broke through--soft and fragile, like glass. "You hate messes."

Spencer's lips quirked into a smile, and for a moment, the tension in the room shifted. The air felt a little lighter.

"That's true," he admitted. "But I'll make an exception. For you."

You let out a watery laugh, the sound catching somewhere in your throat, and it startled you--how good it felt to laugh, even through tears. Spencer smiled wider, like seeing that microscopic spark of light in you was enough.

He shifted closer than, his hand sliding from your arm to cradle your cheek, his touch soft and careful, as though he were afraid you might pull away. "Even if it's messy."

And then he kissed you--soft and slow, his lips brushing yours with infinite gentleness, as though he were trying to tell you everything he couldn't express aloud. For a heartbeat, you tensed. The instinct to pull back, to close yourself off, flared up like it always did. But Spencer didn't push; he simply stayed, giving you a choice.

So you let yourself lean into him.

The tension melted from your shoulders as you kissed him back, the faint taste of salt lingering between you where tears still clung to your lips. His hand stayed against your cheek. When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you finally let out a shaky breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

"Do you want to go to bed?"

You glanced at the book still resting on your lap. The Bell Jar. Your hand hovered over the book's spine, the instinct to cling to it, but you let your hand fall away.

"Yeah," you said softly. 

The book stayed on the couch, closed, forgotten as you rose from the couch and let him guide you toward the bedroom.

And maybe, just maybe, the glass was beginning to crack.

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join my taglist here!

[f0point5]

As if you couldn't turn Max watching her breathe into a masterpiece, don't lie🙄 idk maybe they're driving around in her new car and they coincidentally see Elliot😂 would be a nice reprieve from *clenched teeth* freddie

Sooo.

I tried to incorporate a bit of Max watching her just breathe because it’s funny. But also Elliot. But also the car.

But also mostly I was just freaking out because the male perspective is so alien to me. This might suck. We’re going to be KIND if it sucks because I’m just a girl okay men don’t make sense to me.

Anyway, I’m deciding to name this one because this is what I was listening to when I wrote it.

✨set during winter break✨

Call It What You Want To

“How do you take this long to get ready?” Max groans in frustration, dragging his hand over his face.

He’s been waiting 45 minutes. Not the longest he’s ever waited for you, but he’s been looking forward to this night out for two whole days. After everything that’s gone on in the last couple of weeks, and how none of that is likely to be resolved before Testing next week, he could really use a drink or twelve.

“I’m almost done,” he hears you call back, your tone telling him you’re unbothered by leaving him waiting. “Do you want everyone to think you have an ugly girlfriend?”

Max opens his mouth to reply but closes it just as quickly. What is he supposed to say to that? That no one on earth has ever thought his girlfriend is anything less than breathtakingly beautiful, so much so that it stopped him for thinking you could ever be his girlfriend more than once? That sometimes during a race he looks at the tv screens on the track in case you’re on camera? That whenever he passes the picture of you in his hallway he thinks he’d have hung it up even if he didn’t know you, because you’d still be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen? No. He’s not saying any of that. Three months is way too soon to let you know that you could use his balls as earrings. It’s not like you need a bigger head.

“I want my girlfriend to get to the club before it closes,” he shouts, stifling a smile. It’s been three months, but he still likes saying girlfriend.

“You’re such a drama queen,” he hears you say, your voice getting closer as you make your way to the living room. “We can’t all just put on a t-shirt with a funny saying on it and-“

You stop when you round the couch and finally notice him staring at your slinky black satin dress. Actually, he’s staring at the parts of you not covered by the dress, which gives him a lot to stare at. He might just give everyone what they want and quit driving if they could promise him he’d only have to lol at you in this dress for the rest of his life.

“What?” You ask him, which has him blinking furiously, trying to focus. You’re holding out a pair of heels to him, the ones you bought with the gift card his dad’s wife had given you for your birthday.

“Nothing,” he says, taking the shoes from you. He shifts off the couch to kneel in front you, lifting your leg to put the shoes on your foot and do up the buckle. “You look good,”

Above him, he hears you chuckle, and then your fingers run through his hair. You’re petting him like a cat, and he’ll be damned if he ever admits how close he feels to purring.

“Why does that still sound like it’s painful for you to admit?” You tease, using a bit more of your nails on the final run through of his hair.

“It’s not painful,” he tells you winding the glittering strap around your ankle.

It’s not painful. Sometimes it’s a lump in his throat, or a tightening in his chest. Sometimes, when he’s on one knee in front of you like he is now, it’s an urge to say something he can’t yet find the words for. But no, it’s not painful.

He finishes with your other shoe, squeezing your calf gently before placing a kiss on the inside of your knee.

“You’re just painfully gorgeous,” he says as he gets to his feet. “Can we go?”

You roll your eyes at him with with a smile. “Your car or mine?”

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

He chooses to take your car. Every time he gets in your Ferrari, he thinks about Vegas. He drives it often.

He weaves through the streets of Monaco with one hand on your thigh, and he can’t remember where the fuck he was putting that hand before you.

“The thing is, unless the contract gets sorted next week, he’s totally fucked,” you’re saying as Max turns onto Avenue Princesse Grace. There’s a gaggle of people outside with their phones out. Simply fucking lovely. “You’re not listening to me are you?”

Max turns to you, squeezing your thigh as the car slows. “Of course I am, Engel. Do me a favour? Just say fuck again, a bit slower,”

“You’re twelve,”

“You would not have gone out with me at twelve,” Max jokes, slowing to a stop in front of Twiga as a valet comes towards the car.

“You were cute at twelve,” you say, “fourteen is where it started to go haywire,”

Before he can respond, you’re getting out of the car, and immediately the camera phones are focused on you. Max follows you out, handing the keys to the valet as he tries to ignore the feeling of being hunted. He wonders if they know he can hear every word they’re saying. He wonders if they’d like him to take their picture and post it all over the internet. He watches you slink through the crowd towards him, not even bothering to pretend you’re not being watched.

It’s ironic, he thinks, he brings the spotlight, but you’re the one who shines in it.

Inside the lobby, you head straight for the elevator while he talks to the woman at the front desk- it’s a well rehearsed routine. Lando isn’t here yet, typical. He asks if they can send over some St. Tropez cocktails and some gin tonics, and texts Lando to hurry up, before turning to join you at the lifts.

Except, he notices, you’re not alone. You’re standing by the lifts, with a big smile on your face, explaining something to a guy with a familiarly large head.

Max has seen Elliot around a couple of times. Monaco is stupidly small, especially in the winter when it’s nearly empty. The two men always studiously ignore each other, because what is there to say? Max doesn’t know if Elliot knows that you’re together now, and he knows it shouldn’t matter, but it does.

He didn’t hate Elliot in Austin, even though he’d planned to. But then they’d met and Max found he really couldn’t hate someone who was as smitten with you as he was, as he’d always been.

He finds that he kind of hates Elliot now, though, as he gets close enough to hear you giggle at something.

“No. It was actually okay, just cold, you know?“ you stop when Max places a hand on the small of your back, where you dress is low enough that he’s touching your skin. You turn to him. “Oh, hey. Is Lando here?”

Max shakes his head.

“Typical.” You sigh. “Max, you remember Elliot, right?”

“Yeah.” He says, and they shake hands. How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” Elliot says with a shrug. His shirt matches your dress. Fuck him.

“Well, you can if you want,” Max jokes, except it’s not a joke because he hates those Britishisms. If you want to say something just say it. And if things are fine and you have nothing to complain about why make it sound- he just doesn’t like the guy. And he doesn’t like that you liked the guy.

Mercifully, the lift arrives, and when it does, Max steps aside.

“You take this one,” he says, gesturing to the open lift. Elliot looks like he wants to refuse out of politeness in the way only English people do, so Max forces himself to put everyone out of their misery. “It’s the least I can do,”

It’s such a dickhead thing to say, but he can’t help but smirk, and it does the trick. Elliot gives both of you a tight lipped smile and steps into the lift, pulling out his phone as the door closes.

You turn to face him, his hand falling away from your back as you fix him with a quizzical look. He waits for you to chastise him for his comment, then wonders fleetingly if you’re comparing him, in his silly t-shirt and tight jeans, to Elliot in his perfectly crisp chinos. Then he finds himself staring at your lips.

“Oh, right,” you say suddenly, tapping his shoulder. “That’s what I was saying. So this builder says he’s ordered all the materials, but he has to no contract. And my dad…”

Max listens to you talk, winding his arms around your waist in a way he’s still getting used to, and you smile at him in a way he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to. He promises himself then never to get angry with you when you’re getting ready. You’re worth the wait.

[thatgiraffefromtlou]

The Aurora Project

(part 2)

(tumblr won’t let me tag part one for some odd reason but it’s in my pinned post! make sure you read that first 🫶🏻)

summary: as a result of a malfunction, you and ellie awaken from cryosleep aboard a spaceship with no memory. will you find evidence that you're more than just shipmates? something to give reason to your nagging familiarity to the stranger you wake up next to?

warnings: eventual explicit language, potential for smut in later chapters (depending), uh cringy teasing idk- Imk if there's more this is also pretty tame-

A/N: so erm this definitely isn’t the best work of mine i won’t lie to you guy. it’s only slightly proof read 🧍🏼 like i said the results of this election has my mind kind elsewhere, but writing is still very therapeutic for me and i really wanted to get something put out for you guys! plus im excited to post this and continue this story and i don’t want that to be taken from me. anyways enough about that i hope you guys enjoy!!

work count: 2.6K (ik sorry they will eventually be longer)

– Chapter two -

"Maybe your eye would work?" you break the silence, your voice echoing softly in the open space. You and Ellie sit on either side of the exit, your backs pressed against the cool, metallic walls. It took you two what felt like forever, but you finally found a door. The hope that cascaded through your bodies upon first seeing the door was palpable, a surge of excitement that quickly dissipated the moment you realized it was locked. The lock mechanism, a complex array of technological marvels you’ve never encountered, had multiple parts, but only needed one of the three ways to get through: an eye scanner, a password, or a thumbprint.

The eye scanner looked like a floating camera, or at least that's the best way you could describe it. It hovered eerily, set maybe a foot above a see-through keyboard that seemed to defy gravity. Glowing boxes surrounded glowing letters, numbers, and symbols, creating an otherworldly interface. It was strange, almost disconcerting, the way those two things seemed to float beside the door, as if held in place by some invisible force. In stark contrast, the fingerprint scan was firmly affixed to the actual door itself, a more tangible and familiar security measure. Either way, two of these things you thought Ellie might be able to manipulate, given her potential credentials.

"Huh?" Ellie turns her head to you, her brows furrowed in confusion and her upper lip slightly risen on one side, creating an expression of both intrigue and skepticism. "It's a shot in the dark but..." you begin, your mind racing to connect the dots, "Our name plates—only you had 'Dr.' in front of your name." You shrug your shoulders and lick your lips, your theory on the tip of your tongue. Turning your body to face more in her direction, your legs tucking slightly under your thighs in an attempt to get comfortable on the hard floor, you continue, "Maybe you have some form of authority here? I mean, hell, maybe you're even an astronaut? It's not too far-fetched considering our surroundings."

She looked at you with an expression that was a perfect blend of disbelief and flattery, as if you had just said the most absurd yet complimentary thing imaginable. Her eyes widened slightly, eyebrows raised, creating a very confused expression that spoke volumes. "Or," she countered, her voice tinged with a hint of skepticism, "I'm just a doctor who practices medicine and they need doctors in this place we're headed towards? It seems more likely, doesn't it?" Your shoulders literally slump at that, the weight of disappointment settling on you. "Yeah, you're probably right…" you concede, your voice trailing off.

You sit with your back against the wall again, the cool surface a stark reminder of your predicament. Your mind starts racing, deciding to go back to the drawing board. Maybe there's another door on the other side? Air vents? As these thoughts swirl in your head, Ellie suddenly stands up, her movement catching you off guard. She leans over slightly, putting her eye at level with the scanner, a look of determination etched on her face. You look up at her curiously, and suddenly there's a beep—a sharp, electronic sound that cuts through the silence—and the doors slide open with a smooth, hydraulic hiss.

You get on your feet immediately, adrenaline surging through your body, and she turns back to you, her face a mask of genuine shock mirroring your own. "No way..." you say in awe, your voice barely above a whisper as you look through the now open door. The view beyond is bleak, not really what you were hoping for. Just another long walkway stretches before you, more walkways branching off like a labyrinth of sterile corridors. "Guess I am an astronaut..." Ellie says quietly, a smile playing on her lips, tinged with a mixture of pride and bewilderment.

You look back to her, her smile a welcome contrast to the boring white hallway that seems to stretch endlessly before you. You can't help but smile back, a sense of camaraderie growing between you. "Of course you are," you say, your voice filled with a newfound confidence, "I'm never wrong." Ellie huffs air out of her nose in a small laugh, her smile widening as she shakes her head, a gesture that seems both exasperated and fond. She takes a deep breath, straightening her back again, and steps into the hallway with cautious steps. You follow close behind, your footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. The doors close with a whooshing sound behind you both, sealing off the room you just left.

"Why'd you give it a try?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you as you fall into step beside her. Ellie shrugs, her eyes scanning the corridor ahead. "Better than sitting there with no solution," she replies, her tone matter-of-fact. She glances at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes, "and something told me you're never wrong or whatever." You smile as the warm sense of familiarity fills you again, this time less scary but just as confusing as before. It's a feeling you can't quite place, like a half-remembered dream or a song you can't quite recall. "Fair enough," you joke a little, your voice light.

Silence settles over the two of you for a moment before you speak again, "So, Dr. Ellie," you say, emphasizing her title with a playful tone, a little pep in your step, your body angled more towards her than forward. "What's our next move? Any pearls of astronaut wisdom to share with us mere mortals?" The question is wrapped in a layer of jest, but underneath, it's clear you're both grappling with the same pressing concern: what on earth—or rather, what in space—are you supposed to do now?

Ellie responds with a soft chuckle, her eyes never ceasing their scan of the corridors stretching out before you. "Well," she begins, her voice tinged with a hint of self-deprecation, "If I had to guess, I think our best bet would be to find some kind of control room or like a central hub. I mean.. there's bound to be a nerve center somewhere." As she speaks, her hands move in small, unconscious gestures, as if trying to shape her thoughts in the air.

She gives a little shrug, the movement almost diminishing the weight of her ideas. It's a strange contradiction—the self-assurance in her logic juxtaposed against a hint of awkwardness in her delivery. The dichotomy is intriguing; she clearly knows she's smart, but there's a flutter of something—maybe modesty, maybe uncertainty—when that intelligence is on display.

You nod, genuinely impressed by her logical approach despite her hesitation. "Makes sense," you agree, your voice trailing off a little as you mull over her suggestion. After a moment you ask, "Any ideas on how we might go about finding this hypothetical control room?"

Ellie's eyebrows lift a fraction, and when she speaks again, her words seem to require a touch more effort than before, as if she's carefully weighing each one. "Well, we could start by looking for signs, I suppose?" Her gaze flicks to you briefly before returning to the path ahead, a mix of consideration and caution in her eyes. "Or, failing that, we could follow the main corridor?" She gestures ahead with a sweep of her hand. "In my experience-“ she cuts herself off in a fluster. “Or what I think might be my experience, given our current memory situation—important areas are usually centrally located and well-marked."

You hum thoughtfully and nod, acknowledging the soundness of her strategy. "So, essentially, we keep walking straight until we stumble upon another door or some kind of signage?" A note of playful sarcasm creeps into your voice as you add, "Sounds absolutely thrilling..."

Ellie responds with an eye roll, but there's a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, softening the gesture. "Well, unless you've got a better idea tucked away in that sarcasm-filled brain of yours, Captain Quip, I think that's our best bet for now." She pauses for a beat, then adds with a touch of dry humor coloring her words, "Who knows? Maybe if we're really lucky, we'll stumble upon a space casino or an alien petting zoo along the way."

"A petting zoo?" you echo, latching onto the absurd image with enthusiasm. "Maybe they've got some kind of high-tech Noah's Ark situation going on up here." The mental picture draws a laugh from both of you, the sound a welcome break in the tension. As your chuckles subside, you're struck by a sudden realization. "You know what? I could really go for a drink right now. God, I'm thirsty. Are you thirsty too?" The question hangs in the air for a moment before you notice something's off. You turn, expecting to see Ellie beside you, but she's nowhere in sight. Confusion floods your system. Wasn't she just—

You’re quickly interrupted by the sound of your name being called. It's Ellie's voice, but it's coming from at least 20 feet behind you. You spin around, your eyes searching, and finally spot her. She's standing in front of a doorway, her arm extended, finger pointing at something beyond. "Look," she calls again, her voice a mix of excitement and wariness.

You quickly jog back to where Ellie is standing. As you draw closer, you see what has captured her attention: before you a mini hall, maybe 3 feet long ending with a small door.

Your gaze follows Ellie's pointing finger to the side of the door, where a placard identical to those at the foot of your pods catches your attention. The name 'Dr. Williams' is etched onto its surface, below her name is a simple +1, causing a small jolt of recognition to course through you. "Oh..." you breathe, the single syllable barely audible as it escapes your lips. Your eyes dart between Ellie and the plain white door, a feeling of apprehension swirling in your gut.

"Well, let's open it," you suggest, your voice a blend of impatience and nervousness. Ellie responds with a nod, her face showing her own set of conflicting emotions. She reaches out, her hand settling on the doorknob - a long, flat apparatus that stands out against the sterile white of the door. Your eyes are drawn to a peculiar smooth shiny black rectangle spot near where the handle attaches to the door, its purpose unclear but somehow significant.

Ellie's fingers wrap around the handle, and she attempts to turn it. The door remains closed, the handle refusing to even budge an inch. A look of frustration flashes across her face as she tries again, her knuckles almost whitening with the force of her grip. Still, the door doesn't budge.

You watch intently as Ellie's brow furrows in concentration, her fingers now tracing the outline of the mysterious black spot. Suddenly, Ellie's eyes widen with realization, and she presses her thumb firmly against the black square. The silence that follows seems to stretch for an eternity, both of you holding your breath in anticipation. Then, a soft beep fills the air, shattering the tension.

Ellie turns the handle again and the door responds with a soft click as she pushes the door open. You and Ellie exchange a quick glance, a wordless communication passing between you. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you both step forward in unison. The room is small, almost like a one room apartment. The white sterile walls not following you into this space. You both set forward, Ellie in the lead as you both wordlessly scan the room. The walls may be white, but the room itself is vibrant with personality and life.

Every available surface is adorned with an array of memorabilia - framed photographs capturing moments frozen in time, colorful posters that speak of diverse interests, and shelves lined with an assortment of knick-knacks, each telling its own story. These decorations form a protective cocoon around the full-sized bed nestled at the far end of the room, creating a cozy sanctuary within the larger space. The front area of the room seamlessly blends the functionality of a kitchen with the comfort of a living room, defying the sterile environment beyond its walls.

As you step further into the room, your senses are overwhelmed by a collection of different scents, each fighting for dominance in the recycled air of the ship. The rich, invigorating aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the smoky, complex notes of aged whiskey. A faint, earthy scent of stale marijuana lingers in the background. Underpinning it all is a warm, masculine fragrance - reminiscent of a what you’d smell when you hug a Southern dad, all sun-warmed cotton and subtle cologne.

Despite the main overhead light being off, the room is bathed in a gentle, welcoming glow. A strategically placed array of lamps and twinkling string lights cast a soft, amber radiance throughout the space. This warm illumination not only brightens the room but also seems to ignite a spark of recognition deep within you. As your eyes adjust and roam over the personal touches scattered throughout, you can't shake the feeling that this space is somehow intimately familiar, as if you've spent countless hours within these very walls, or at least around these things.

Ellie quietly calls your name, her voice tinged with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. You slowly turn around to see her sitting on what you presume to be her bed, a framed photograph clutched in her hands. You make your way over to her, each step feeling both familiar and foreign on the ship's floor. As you settle beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under your combined weight, she carefully turns the photo to face you both.

The image captured within the frame immediately draws your attention. It's a snapshot of what appears to be a Halloween party, the background a blur of festive decorations and revelers. But it's the subjects of the photo that truly catch your eye - you and Ellie, looking carefree and happy, your costumes as whimsical as they are clever.

You find yourself staring at your own image, barely recognizing the person looking back at you. You're dressed in an elaborate moth costume, complete with intricately designed wings and antennae. Your costume-clad self is caught mid-motion, planting an exaggerated kiss on Ellie's cheek. Ellie, for her part, is sporting what can only be described as a lampshade on her head, her face alight with laughter and warmth.

The juxtaposition of the costumes isn't lost on you - a moth drawn to a lamp, a visual pun that speaks of inside jokes and shared humor. It's a moment of connection, of joy, frozen in time and preserved behind glass.

"Oh..." you breathe, the word barely more than an exhale. The photo feels like a key, unlocking a flood of emotions you can't quite place. Familiarity wars with the unsettling feeling of looking at strangers wearing your faces.

"Oh..." Ellie echoes, her voice a mirror of your own confusion and wonder. Her eyes flick between the photo and your face, searching for something - recognition, perhaps, or confirmation that you're feeling the same tumult of emotions that she is.

The silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken questions and the weight of implications neither of you are quite ready to voice.

A/N: hehehe lmk if you wanna be added to the tag listttttt

tag list: @autisticintr0vert (if you’re not tagged and asked to be, please check to make sure you’re ability to be tagged is on because your username did not show up!)

[lillyspeakz]

hmm, idk if u do stuff like this, butttt... can we pls have smth with will that's like a tentacle monster? idk how to phrase it lmao sry. maybe fluff with a bit of nsfw ;3

Ohhhh hell yes!!!!! These are headcanons and they are catergorized!!! NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!!

tw// tentacles, pet names like whore, slut and baby, double penetration, belly bulge, somnophilia that really it the rest is fluffy

Fluff;

- since he has tentacles, he tends to hold things for you, especially when he knows you’ll forget about it or need it the next second.

- He also helps you multitask! Need dinner done in an hour? On it! Need help grabbing something higher up? Done! Want attention? Dragging you into his embrace.

- I also like to believe his tentacles have somewhat a mind of their own. So whenever they can sense you’re stressed or they miss your touch, they venture away from Wilbur and find you. They’ll nuzzle up against you, loving your touch, no matter what it is. And once Wilbur notices, he scolds them, yet he finds you nuzzling against them as well, giggling as they tickle you or push deeper into your embrace.

- once again, I also believe that when Wilbur feels something, so do the tentacles. So when he falls so deeply in love with you, the tentacles do too, but not as much as will does, they get half of what he feels. But they can still feel that intense emotion. They can sense your good. So they’re not tense around you or shy, they love wrapping around you.

- also another thing- I feel like Wilbur can extract them when he wants them out…. Maybe. That’s still a thought to analyze. But if he can! He definitely puts them away if he just wants time for you and him. But if he can tell they need to breath and just be free, they are everywhere. But again, they resemble Wilbur so-

- his tentacles will pick up various clothes for you to choose from as he stands and evaluates the outfits you try on. That man is a diva and he knows it. He will tell you what looks good and not-

- if he can see that your in harms way or he senses something bad will happen, he’ll let one of his tentacles reach out to you and pull you back into him.

“Careful darling. Almost hurt yourself-“

- let’s be so real, his tentacles scare you at first. They’re kind of intimidating! Having kinda of their own, flowing behind and beside him as if to protect him from you. But as you both warmed up to each other (and Wilbur telling them to chill tf out), they start to make you nervous, in the good way! They’re attacked to you whenever they feel the need to. Protecting you from random things, keeping you huddled against Wil, and the random touches make your face red as Wil laughs at you.

- I can’t stress this enough. The tentacles are apart of Wilbur so whatever they do- reflects how Wilbur feels or wants.

Smut; (female anatomy)

- he will stand and watch you fall apart as his tentacles do all the work for him. Will fill all your holes and overstimulate your clit until you’re drooling all over the bed and your hips are stuttering like the whore you are for his tentacles.

- man is packing. Hell he’s a fucking hybrid! Of course he is. So when he fucks you, he wraps you up in his tentacles while holding your body up against his, pressing on the bulge in your stomach, loving your mewls and pants as you lose yourself again and again.

- if you let him, while he fucks you, he will also have his tentacles preoccupy you. Filling all your holes while he fucks your tight cunt, whispering dirty little things in your ears, claiming you with all his might.

- if his tentacles have suction cups on them- hickies everywhere! Your nipples will be fucked and your clit is ruined. Those bitches love to just suction on your most sensitive parts, and Wilbur knows you love it. You fucking reel at the thought of it. And he uses that knowledge as an advantage.

- when Wilbur is too tiered to do anything , yet he can tell you’re needy, one of his tentacles slithers down your body, in between your legs and starts playing with you per Wilbur’s instructions and words.

- you and Wilbur have talked about it before and you were completely fine with it. So when Wilbur gets a bit too needy at night, while your passed out beside him, body sprawled everywhere, holding onto him. He adjust your body to his liking, contorting your unconscious body so he can slot himself perfectly in between your legs and slowly fuck you in your sleepy state. And if you wake up and ask what he’s doing, just to feel the intense pleasure of his cock thrusting in and out of you, he quickly shushes you, one tentacle reaching up to cover your mouth as he continues to fuck you, telling you to go back to sleep. He just needed something, and you looked too cute not too

[drdemonprince]

perhaps i'm being very autistic about this, but trying to figure out where i can contribute my time and energy is so hard because there's so many actually important issues. actually important ones. spreading yourself thin isn't helpful, but even if you tune out the roar of people demanding that you care about every last thing, the tug on my heart is still strong. probably another lie capitalism has pounded deep into our minds, that we have to do it *all* even. even knowing that many of these issues are inter-related, and doing the things you *can* is what's important and contribute to unraveling the greater fabric of bad shit. how on earth do you find that spot though? where you don't go mad going in mental circles about what you're *not* doing? idk i can't be alone in this?

I have an instagram post about this with regard to donating to Gazan fundraisers that you can read here.

Here's my take: when we get swept up in not being able to "do it all" or freeze up with complete inability to choose any cause to work toward because we can't decide which one is the most worthy, we are operating out of a highly individualistic framework that positions the self as the agent of change.

It might not feel like it is a self-centered perspective, but it's exactly the kind of isolated, self-as-savior, systems-ignoring outlook that a culture of capitalism and rampant Christian moral Puritanism conditions us to adopt (even if you're not Christian). I have a whole book about this btw.

I have felt overwhelmed with my inability to "help everyone" or address every cause before, and frankly the solution was to get over myself and realize that I have a very limited ability to make a difference and that simply doing my part is my only duty, not doing it "all". I have to trust that I am but one small, relatively insignificant human and that I am surrounded by literally millions of other humans who care and will pick up their small part of the work as well.

it doesn't matter that i select the absolute optimal ideal cause or place into which to put my energy, because frankly i am not important. i just need to show up and pick up some work. there will be plenty of work left for the next person to pick up.

It was absurd main character energy to expect myself to do everything or to be able to "save" people. And yet that was exactly the kind of moral burden I was putting on myself for a very long time. And it led to overcommitment followed by burnout, spreading myself thin, and most crucially failing to make any my efforts part of the work of an enduring, tightly knit COMMUNITY.

A focus on individual effort makes us neurotic, alienated, self-focused, lonely, confused, conflicted, and forever putting our energies into initiatives of limited value with limited potential for payoff. instead, choosing one little lane to do our own bit of work in -- literally ANY lane, so long as it is accessible and motivating to us and plays to our strengths -- will mean that we are actually making a difference consistently and connecting to others who are taking part in the work too.

we must do this work not to morally purify ourselves, which is not possible, but because we see something worth doing and we decide to get up and do it. the arena in which you choose to make a difference can be literally anything from donating to people's gofundmes to sharing other people's fundraisers to feeding your neighbors to blowing up a pipeline. it literally does not matter which particular choice you, specifically, make, only that you do something and keep at it at the pace that is sustainable for you. and trust that literally millions of other people are all around you doing their tiny tiny part too.

[lonophobic]

“should’ve just begged for me in the first place, huh?”

tartaglia x male reader

tw: smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), top male reader, reader is a sadist, but tartag is a masochist so its all good lmao, binding, crying, begging, overstimulation, orgasm denial, nipple play, reader is mentioned to be a half-god, childe is called a whore once, childe is called ajax for this fic, i think thats it but im not sure lmao

genre: smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

summary: uhh plotless smut lol childe radiates bottom energy so much

a/n: this was supposed to be a small little thirst. small. idk what happened.

part 2!

!not proofread

—

y/n could hear ajax’s sobs as his tip leaked precum, a white puddle already resting on his stomach from the previous orgasms. his hands were tied behind his back, immobilizing him and rendering him helpless. you were still thrusting into his tight hole, the two of you covered in a thin layer of sweat. ajax’s back was leaning against the bed frame, yet his head was hanging down as you could hear his pants and soft sniffles. he didn’t even know how many times he had cum that night already, all he knew was that he wanted more- needed more. he felt you slow down, and as he was about to start complaining, he felt your lips against his, bringing him into a surprisingly soft kiss, which was a large contrast to how the two of you looked at that moment. tounges danced with each other as ajax could feel your dick twitch inside him. you pulled back, quickening your pace with a soft groan. you glanced at ajax’s tear- streaked face, then let go of one of his thighs you were holding up to trail up his chest until you were brushing your fingers against his hard nipples, which brought a raspy whimper up his throat. he was getting lost in the moment when you suddenly pinched his nipple, hard. you felt him tighten around you, letting out a hoarse moan while he threw his head back, hearing a bump from his head hitting the bed frame. you put your hand back to his thigh to hold it back up, and replaced your fingers with your mouth- licking, sucking, and biting the hardened nub. you heard him let out another sob as he spasmed around your cock, his cum being so thin at this point that he might as well be squirting water. his back arched off the bed frame, and you slowed down your thrusts until they came to a stop. you were a bit tired too- you cummed quite a bit already inside the harbinger. you were about to pull out to get cleaned up, but you felt your boyfriend bite your neck, keeping you in place.

“where do you think you’re going? i thought you said you’d fuck me dumb today. i expected more from a half-god.”

this made you chuckle- you’ve never met anyone else in your entire eternal life who could handle more rounds than ajax. it made you amused, excitement bubbling from your core.

“fine. we can go further. but-if you really want me to go harder-“

you paused to lean down and kiss his temple, leaning a bit further down to be right next to his ear to whisper-

“you’re gonna have to beg for it, you little whore.”

this sent shivers down ajax’s spine; he smirked, and replied with a snarky response.

“you’ll never see me beg for a good fucking, shouldn’t you just give it to me?”

~

ajax was squirming, openly sobbing. as much as he regretted saying those words to you, every inch of his body seemed to love it. he had been denied orgasm after orgasm, your thrusting and hand jerking him off stopping right at the edge. it was driving him crazy- his eyes rolled to the back of his head, head tilting back as far as it could go before the bed frame stopped it. his mouth open wide as it spilled moan after moan, taking in huge gulps of air as he was fucked right to the edge, just to be pulled back. his tears were falling freely off of his eyes onto his cheeks, mind hazy from the intense feeling he was getting. he could barely process you were talking to him, but your hand gripping his chin to make him face you brought him back to reality.

“you want to cum?”

this sounded like a miracle to ajax; he had been on the edge for archons know how long, hours probably. he was willing to do anything for release at this point.

“YES-yesyesyes, please- please- i’m sorry i said that to you- pleasepleasepleaseplease just let me cum,”

he blurted out, tightening around the cock that had been ruining his insides for the past several hours. this seemed to satisfy you, and you leaned down to kiss his forehead with a soft smile.

“finally decided to listen, huh? well, i guess i could help you, since i’ve had my fun.”

you helped to shift ajax so that he was on his back, and retying his restraints so that they were tied against the bed frame. you suddenly brought his knees to his shoulders, which made ajax stiffen in surprise. when you slammed yourself back inside, he let out a loud, raspy moan that was almost a shout. you gave him no time to recover, pulling out until just the tip of your cock was inside and harshly trusting all the way back in. ajax could feel you so much deeper inside, your tip pressing against his prostate. he moaned loudly at every thrust, hearing the flesh of your hips snap against his bruised ass. you put his legs on your shoulders and leaning down so you could bite at his neck, hard enough to draw blood. you felt ajax’s back lift off of the bed as you sucked on the spot you had bit as you whispered soft praises into his ear, which were hardly processed by the ginger. you glanced down, seeing his stomach bulge with each thrust. as you bit down on another spot, you pressed down on the bulge, which finally pushed ajax over the edge. he screamed, sticky white liquid squirting from his tip. he clenched down hard on your cock, which made you cum as well with a moan. the two of you sat there for a minute, both panting as you calmed down from your highs. after a minute, he heard you chuckle.

“should’ve just begged for me in the first place, huh?”

you heard him laugh weakly, his voice raspy as he responded.

“i’ll be sure to get you back sometime.”

—

words: 996

damn i just wanted bottom childe and this is what my rotting brain created 🧍

planning a part 2 where foul legacy!childe tests the limits of his half-god boyfriend 🤗

edit: forgot to add tags lmao

[asherashedwings]

FNF CONNECTED UNIVERSE LINE UP Part 2: The Girlfriends

Yippee, new line up. Didn't have as much trouble on this one either.

Idk how much yapping I'll be doing, since I don't really know how much I have to talk about.

But still

Close ups and yapping under the cut

Alternate Universe Girlfriends

So just like with the Boyfriends, all these Girlfriends are technically all the same person, just from different universes. So I tried some elements of their designs consistent between them all, which stem from my base game Girlfriend design.

Unlike BF, there's a good bit more to talk about with GF since I draw her pretty different compared to her in-game design. The main thing is her more apparent demonic traits, like her horns, tail, and purple splotches. The explanation for this, in universe, is that she doesn't have the full power to cloak herself yet. See, her and her family are "music demons", which gain their power by leeching from music, usually a particular genre. GF hasn't really decided what genre to leech from yet, so she isn't as powerful as she could be. She also has a coat cuz uhhh. Silly. Things like her demonic traits and her coat (Or something of similar shape like a feather boa) would be the things to connect all the AU GFs.

Moving on, we have Herself, who I was looking forward to drawing the moment I started this line up cuz I had just. Such a clear vision of her in my head. Although it was a struggle to put that vision on paper.

It's hard to put the exact vision into words, but it's like having her form become less defined as it goes downwards, until it's just the wispy silhouette of her hair. There's a certain balance you have to strike with the wispy nature of her form and the trademark Girlfriend hair shapes, and that's what ended up being the biggest struggle. Once I figured that out though, it was pretty simple. Shapes were the most important thing since her coloring is pretty monochromatic. Not counting the black, this design only utilizes two different colors, both being shades of red. Her design includes a feather boa instead of a jacket, mainly cuz I completely forgot about that rule when I got to her and the boa was a lot easier to add than a jacket. It also makes an interesting shape I think.

Next is Funkadelix, and she really wasn't too hard. The main thing was giving her traits from my main GF design, which wasn't hard at all. For her horns I referenced her Halloween attire. Her tail too, sorta, but I mainly just referenced the thinness of it.

There isn't all too much to say about MDM. There wasn't a lot to change or add. Main addition was the boa, which was admittedly kinda fun to draw in my style for that AU.

Now onto Mix. If you saw my post yesterday about the doodle/sketch pile for this line up, you might've seen a design concept I did for Mommy Mearest, and that was literally just for Mix's design. Except it was virtually pointless cuz I didn't really include any aspects of my MMM into my Mix design. It's fine though, I think she turned out fine. Might take another pass at her in the future when I ACTUALLY have my MMM design figured out.

Lastly for this section, HD. I actually had quite a bit of fun drawing her. Don't really got much to say about her though. I'm pretty sure she was the first AU GF I gave a boa, so she's the one that started that. It was originally going to be all white, but my good good friend @minxtheeenby suggested it fading into black, and I really like how it turned out.

"Side" GFs

So first is Belladonn (B-Side). I know I wanted her to appear more sophisticated. That's just always how I imagined her, even back well the mod was still a simple recolor remix mod. There's also something so fun about classy characters that are also dangerous. We need more regal women that carry around bats full of nails. I had a lot of trouble nailing (pun not intended) her hair. The main thing that sets it apart from the traditional GF cut is her side bang (idk hair terms, I think that's what it is), but besides that, not much else. So I had to mess with it a bunch to get something I liked.

Amelia's (D-Side) design was pretty straight forward. The main thing was just adding a few more details to spice it up a bit. Which just happened to be buttons on her jacket and lil heart patterns on her knees. I also wanted her to be short. Cuz idk, she gives short vibes. A lil idea for her that isn't showcased here is that I imagine her pigtail buns actually turn into her horns when she is in her demon form. (Bad doodle, but just to show the concept:)

Lizzy (G-Side) was kinda fun to come up with ideas for. Most of her design is taken from the fake teasers for the mod, cuz silly. But because her mom is some sort of light spirit.. thing, I wanted to mix that in somehow too. So that's where the white highlights on her horns, hair, and tail come from, but that's not all it added.

She also has pretty funky eyes, that are somewhat inspired by Shara Ishvalda's eyes

Also, in that doodle, I imagine all of her hair is floating, I just. Didn't feel like drawing her pigtails cuz I mainly wanted to highlight the eye thing.

The New Yorkers

With Shaya, I mainly added a bit of stuff to her outfit, since the original is too simple with my design style. I basically just added a bat wing shape motif to her design. Cuz. Cuz vampire. This is also present in her ear shape cuz I didn't want them to JUST be pointed, cuz I wanted her to stand out a bit more from the demon girls. So different ear shape.

I don't really know how much Azalea (Neo) changed. I know I changed her hair a bit (to further differentiate her from GF) and I altered her top a bit but I THINK that's it. I did change her and her family's lore a bit though. Cuz I made them robots. THATS RIGHT, THIS IS WHO I WAS TALKING ABOUT WHEN I WAS TALKING ABOUT MAKING ONE OF THE GIRLFRIENDS A ROBOT. Azalea's pretty android-esc, but I imagine her parents are just full on robots. I can't wait to design them. But yeah, I imagine Azalea is much more human looking because she just wants to be part of human society and her parents love her so they got her the more human looking body so she could live out her dream. We love supportive parents *explosion emoji* *explosion emoji* *explosion emoji*

Not much to say about Grace. I just gave her a bit of melanin cuz apparently she's mixed. That's all I really changed tho.

I don't think I changed Judith MUCH. Her face is a bit more. Wolf-like? Idk. I also TOTALLY didn't reference Clawdeen Wolf's hair when designing her. Totally not.

Vikki (Minus) is grouped with the New Yorkers cuz. There's only one of her. Unlike the Minus BFs. I just made her a lil more goth, since people literally call her "Goth GF". Also made her hair a bit more blocky. cuz. cuz the minus symbol. Shape *sparkle emoji*

Who the Fuck Knows (Miscellaneous)

So starting with Cherry (Swappin'), in this AU she's actually GF's younger sister. She also already has a music genre to leech from (rap), so she's better at concealing herself. Not much else to say, I did not change her design much.

Nothing much to say about Barbara either, I barely changed her.

Now Astra (Starcatcher) was fun. While I was initially sketching her, I realized that both her alien species and the Alien Hominids have the same style of classic antennae. So I decided "Huh, what if their species are related." So I did that. Not much else to touch on besides that.

Tootsie belongs to @minxtheeenby and is part of their Sunday Night Snackin' AU. I drew her with her wings and tail out, which aren't usually out, but uh. Silly.

Belletrix didn't really change as much as I was expecting her too. The main thing was just. Making her an imp that could exist in the Hellaverse. Which was pretty easy. And then I just made shit up when it came to her outfit cuz it was kinda hard what was going on with that in the first place.

Next is Gabriella, YIPPEE. So she's the GF from Plants vs. Rappers. Vastly different appearance wise though, cuz, yknow. Can't have her look too similar to GF. And just like I did with Dennis, I decided to base her on another zombie from Neon Mixtape Tour: The Glitter Zombie

Idk, I thought it'd be cutie patootie. And it was. I really like how she turned out. I got lazy when it came to her flag, I did not feel like drawing that shit.

Last but not least is Ashley, the GF from my own AU. Which does not have a name. Idk, it's mainly just an excuse for me to draw anthro Monster Hunter monsters. But yeah, she's an intersex Leostra (Gender neutral term for the Teostra/Lunastra species that @sleepymushrxxm came up with) and I love her.

That's all I got. Gonna hopefully start working on the Pico's here soon.