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phantasmique · 3 months ago

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Synopsis: You're pregnant by the King of Curses, but as violent as he is, there might just be some gentleness beneath it all.

Warnings: Mentions of cannibalism; a tiny, tiny dash of blink-and-you'll-miss-it spice; murder (it's sukuna).

Part two.

There were many things to consider as a consort to the King of Curses. His proclivity for violence, his cold indifference towards humanity. He's crushed thousands of lives beneath the palms of his hands, spilt blood and sliced flesh beneath his talons simply because the urge had struck him. He's cut down women just like you, for something as simple as breathing too loudly.

It hardly comes as a surprise whenever you wake in the morning, long before the sun has crested past the horizon in shades of gold and lilac, only to learn that another one of your fellow concubines has fallen to your lord's ire. Slain for reasons that you have longed since elected to ignore. They mattered little in grand scheme of things, and they often came down to small, tedious motives: She took too long to respond to one of his questions, she stuttered when she responded to him, she gazed at him for too long without permission.

You've learned long ago not to care. You've snuffed that part of yourself out. Crushed it underfoot as easily as one would do to a troublesome insect. Empathy will not ensure your survival in the King of Curses courts, and you've done well to persist after all of these years.

To nod when expected, to keep your eyes leveled to the floor unless ordered otherwise, to speak only when spoken to even while the urge to berate him burns at the tip of your tongue like something molten. A hot ember in your mouth, but you refuse to spit it out.

You learned how to read him. To see the subtle ticks and expressions that would show on his face, using them as a guide for his fickle moods. You knew your place. You knew how to survive. And as exhausting as it was, it was manageable. All was well, until it wasn't.

❃ "You're pregnant." It was clipped, blunt, detached. Said so candidly, as though he hadn't said something that had your heart plummeting down into the pit of your stomach like a stone. You had looked up at him then, wide eyed and openly gawking from your place posted at his feet with something like a scoff threating to spill past your lips. Your mind had scrambled, crawling for an explanation, longing for an answer.

That isn't possible. Curses aren't capable of reproducing. You know that he was human once, a long time ago, but that bit of his humanity must have long since perished. Right?

Pregnant. That shouldn't be achievable for you to produce a child with a curse. That had been a small shred of peace, a truth that you had clung to. That you had kept close to your chest, knowing that regardless of how many times he'll take you, carving a place in you for his pleasure, that you'd never have to bear his heir.

You do love your lord, in a twisted sort of way. He isn't merciful, or kind in any capacity. The brutal, corrupt entity that he is. But he does provide a safety that you might not otherwise had, a home and leniency towards your village that others have not been afforded; thus, a grace extended to your family.

Still . . . someone like Sukuna as a father. Was he even capable of such a thing?

It's true that your time of the months was late, but that had been easy to excuse. Your monthly blood had been overdue before. Delayed by stress and anxiety. And with Sukuna as a lover, you would not dare to sleep with another man. Not that you'd want to, anyway.

But surely he was lying. That wasn't possible. You couldn't be pregnant. Not by a curse. Not by him.

Your mouth had opened, lips parting to speak. To gasp or to deny his claim you weren't sure, but he had silenced you before you could even attempt to force a word out. Lazily lifting a single hand while all four of his eyes slipped down to settle on you, glaring red and piercing in the dark of the shrine.

"I wasn't a question." His nose twitched just the slightest, as though he's caught the scent of something odd, but you were certain the there was a smile nudging at the corners of his lips. As though some part of him was pleased.

Your voice was snagged. Dead in your throat. You had to draw in a tight, shaky breath to even attempt to form a sentence. "That's not pos-"

"I can smell it on you." He answered. Still lounging on his throne. Undisturbed while your world crumbled. " It's practically wafting from your pores. Make no mistake woman, you're carrying my heir."

❃ You had expected a swift death after that. There was no way that the King of Curses would ever entertain the notion of a lowly human bearing his offspring. Tainting his blood line. But the killing blow never came. It nearly made your unease worse. You aren't ignorant to his diet. His taste for human flesh. For the blood of women and children. It made you feel like a pig for slaughter. Meat being preserved for a feast. You've always been a prisoner here, a slave to his wiles, but now you were an animal, a brood mare. You've only ever had to try and save your own skin. To worry for your own life, but now you weren't afforded the luxury of selfishness. You had an unborn life growing in your belly and it had terrified you.

❃ But instead of shunning you, Lord Sukuna was showering you with a sense of possessiveness that you have never experienced from him before. Sure, you were used to the marks. The blotches of plum and blue and crimson that he would scatter along the flesh of your neck and breasts, the tender pink lines that he would mar along your skin, branding your hips and thighs from his talons. But his greed extended little beyond that. You were free to wander the courtyard with the other courtesans at your side. Small moments of serenity that you were all given in between your duties. Free to gossip, and read, or nap beneath the Sakura and plum trees; admiring the petals as they fall and glide across the currents. Carried off far past the shrine walls.

Sometimes, you'd imagine that those petals were you.

Now those small blessings are a peace that you are no longer extended. Guards now follow your every move. Stalking behind you closely like shadows. Silent, constant, and close. Always looming. Always there by Sukuna's decree to monitor and scrutinize you.

❃ You were no longer ordered to sit along the steps, posted at his feet like a loyal dog. He had you perched on his lap instead. Cradled on his thighs. Constantly gripped by at least one of his hands in some compacity. He had become keen on holding a palm to your stomach whether he fully realized it or not. Keeping it flat on your abdomen as though he was shielding your unborn child from the world, with the massive height of his body pinned along your back. Keeping you clutched to his chest as he was waiting for a threat to try and snatch you from him.

He'd keep you there for hours, seated between his massive thighs while peasants and aristocrats alike would get on their knees at the base of the throne's steps, bowing on their knees and begging for mercy and exemption from his slaughter. All while you were in something that was suspiciously close to an embrace. Not that you would voice such a thing to him. Not even with the safety of carrying his child offering some sort of immunity. Not at the risk of invoking his anger. But with how tightly he kept you secured in his arms, his chin raised over the crown of your head, there was little else to call it. And you loathed how much you were beginning to find comfort in it.

❃ Of course, he'd always find ways to shatter that sense of delicate security, whether or not he truly meant to. Namely when he had a servant executed. All because the young man had paid you too much attention; foolishly asking you if you needed any assistance navigating the gardens given your "delicate condition" as he had put it, offering his hand for you to take in the means to help you in your steps. All it had taken was for his fingertips to brush along yours.

In second he was there. Living, breathing, rosy cheeks and a kind smile. And then red. A crest of blood fanning out from his neck. And those gentle eyes. A brief flicker of life in them, and then dull. Muted like a set of worn marbles.

His severed head met stone with a heavy thud, rolling and rolling softly until its traction was halted by grass and moss. His body followed only moments later. No longer held up by spirit and blood, it gave beneath its own weight; knees buckling to collapse like a felled tree.

Despite the balmy nature of the breeze, gentle and humid, you felt frozen. As though your veins had been rushed with chilled water. You couldn't breathe as you stared at his body, disconnected and lifeless like a child's toy that's been carelessly broken and discarded.

"Pathetic vermin. He should know better than to touch things that don't belong to him." His shadow stretched over you then, eclipsing you from the light as the moon does the sun. His cursed energy prickled over your skin, seeping past the barrier of your garments to brush over your flesh, locking your limbs in place.

"A simple warning would have sufficed," you mumbled. Forcing your words out past the heavy feeling of your tongue. They feel broken and hushed all at once, but you can't stop looking at the way the rich maroon seeps out across the fresh green of the lawn, mixing with the morning dew.

His voice slips out into your ears then, a low rumble, possessive and unyielding. "I don't do second chances."

❃ You could hardly call a being like Sukuna soft. He was all hard edges. Harsh. From his brash, unyielding attitude to the rigid planes of his body. Taut muscles and serrated talons. Violent teeth that were honed to tear through flesh and snap bone, but it was undeniable that something in him had relented. Turned malleable by the sight of the bump peeking out from the layers of your skirts. Not quite tame, but . . . tolerable.

❃ He had requested - ordered - that you sleep with him in his quarters from that point onward. A command that split through the haze in your skull like the snapping of a neck.

Your brain was still cloudy. Fogged over and drawn blank by an intoxicated thrum, limbs lax and exhausted after he had drawn orgasm after orgasm from your body. Tipping you over the edge and under a rush of pleasure with a sadistic kind of delight; a sharp, wolfish smile had been split across his face.

The mere idea of getting up from your place on his bed and shuffling your way back to your sleeping quarters on wobbling legs, smeared with cum and sweat had seemed horrendous, but you knew what was expected of you. It had been muscle memory when you nudged your body up from the bedding, slipping your legs over the edge as you scanned the floor for your tattered jūnihitoe; ripped and torn in his fervor to have you naked. Discarded somewhere carelessly.

Then a hand was gripping you. Holding you tightly by the nape of your neck as one would scruff an untoward cat. It had a cold dose of fear skirting beneath your flesh, shivering down your spine and locking you in place as easily as the grip on your neck.

"You're to sleep here from now on."

It was firm. Final. No room for you to argue. And you didn't.

❃ It's lead you to an unexpected discovery. The King of Curses can purr. You had hardly believed it when you first heard it. A low, repetitive hum that had roused you from your sleep in the night. A guttural noise right beneath your ear, breaking periodically in between the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It had caught you entirely off guard. So much so, that in the moment, you assumed you were imagining it. A hallucination brought on by sleep. But the longer you stayed awake, forcing your eyes to remain open as you lifted your head to stare at the slumbering King of Curses, it was unmistakable - he was purring.

Like a kitten would. A soft, gentle sound that juxtaposed horrendously with an entity like him. It nearly made you laugh, but you had just enough wit and self-restraint to contain the sound before it could bubble up to the surface.

You aren't certain how long you had remained that way. Slightly propping yourself up to admire him in the dark, tracing over his face as the light of the moon poured into the room, painting over his skin in hues of blue and soft white; painted by the night.

His scowl softens in his sleep. The furrow between his brows fading into something placid, that arrogant grin - more of a snarl, really - now neutral. He almost looks harmless in moments like these. No glinting teeth or glaring, burning eyes. It's here that you can imagine that he isn't a possible threat. That he won't place you between his fangs and bite until there's nothing over left except for scraps and shards of bone.

❃ He's kind in his own way. A thought that you never once expected yourself to have. Not in regard to him, at least. But he tries, in his own way, to be gentle. When walking with him in the past, you were always expected to trail after him by a few paces, never at his side, but now he makes an effort to guide you at his side. Keeping a hand secured to the small of your back so that you don't fall behind. Now he he's forgone that all together and has taken to totting you around all together as easily as if you were made of feathers and cushion.

It's become a chore to move. Your sense of balance has been altered for the worse, thrown off by the weight of your belly that longs to tip you forward. And the swelling of your feet does little to help, smarting and uncomfortable. You're a stranger in your own skin. Sluggish, as though you've been packed in tight and tugged down by stones.

He's rushed you before in the past, glaring down at you from over his shoulder without a shred of sympathy. He appeared as though he was possibly considering in finally smiting you down, inconvenienced by your lumbering as you willed yourself to follow after him down the corridor in a sluggish waddle.

"Walk any slower and you'll truly be testing my patience."

On any other occasion you could have brushed it off. Ignored it as simply as the other comments he's made at you before, but your ability to control your temper has become poor as of late. Turned brittle and weak by the changes in your body. It's made your tongue loose and sharp, and without thinking you had snapped:

"My apologies for my current state, my lord, but this is just as much your doing as it is mine. So unless you intent to assist me, I suggest keeping your comments to yourself."

As soon as you blurted it out and registered the sound of your own voice, you fully expected to have you head struck clean from your shoulders. You always imagined that the last thing you ever see would be the carmine flash of his eyes before your vision went dark.

His eyes are indeed on you. Still observing you from over his shoulder. They narrow, thinning down into a familiar scowl, and you're certain that this is the end of line for you. It's fallen silent. The world drawn to a hush as you count down the seconds till your death. It's involuntary when your hands drift down to cover your stomach, fingernails clinging at the silk as though it might possibly protect your child.

But the killing blow never comes.

"You're a testy thing today. I'll ignore it - just this once." The rumble of his voice is the only warning you get before he's shifting on his feet to face you. A pair of hands fasten around your hips, a single strong arm slipping around to support your spine as you're suddenly lifted from the ground to be held to his chest. It happens so suddenly that it nearly disorients you. A complaint rises up from your chest, but as soon as you register the relief that melts over your feet at the absence of carrying your weight, it has you falling silent. Settling to sit complacent, and at ease in his hold.

❃ He's come to tolerate your defiance. No doubt pardoning you because of the heir you carry. But there were many instances where he would not relent, no matter how stubbornly you tried to remain in your opinions. Namely in regard to the denial of indulging in a very particular craving.

Initially you had thought nothing of it when Masami had tripped. Somehow stumbling on her skirts and collapsing down onto her knees in a nasty fall. You had rushed to her as quickly as you could, some of the other girls following in suit to crowd around her.

She had raised her hands then, facing them up towards her face so that she could inspect the skinned flesh there. Inflamed pink and riddled with small red abrasions that marred the heels of her palms.

Small wounds in the grand scheme of things. Something that you yourself have obtained throughout the years, but not once has the sight of it achieved such a response. You're certain that you could smell the blood beading past the parting of the skin. It wasn't a scent that you've learned to associate with blood, all pungent and iron. This was pleasant. It was rich, enticing, melting along the summer air like something buttered and warm. It made your mouth water. Suddenly your stomach was too hollow. Famished.

Your focus narrowed down, and you couldn't help but to admire how the sunlight glinted delicately along the red. Glittering faintly like flecks of gold on the seeds of a pomegranate. You wondered then, what it would taste like to run your tongue along her palm. To have the blood spread into your mouth.

It wasn't until someone said your name, loud and sharp, that snapped out of your daze. Jerking in place as though you had been stung. It wasn't until you met Masami's stare, her eyes wide and a little panicked that you realized that you had been staring. Focused intently on her wounded hands with the same hunger of a dog eyeing a slab of meat.

Sukuna had found out, of course. He had eyes and ears everywhere, shadows tucked into every corner; and no matter how quietly one might whisper in the amongst themselves, he always manages to hear.

He had shocked you honestly, when he had taken to approaching you about the topic rather than opting have Uraume slip human flesh into your meals. Still, you had refused. This was something that you could not possibly get yourself to budge on. The thought of it made you nauseous, it had your stomach turning despite the hunger pinching at your gut.

Reduced to a complete stranger in your body as the child in your womb altered it into something unrecognizable. Riddling it with twisted urges that made you want to run away from yourself. Haunting you with a hunger that would keep you awake at night, fantasizing about a craving that should make you fall ill. That should have you trembling with dread, and yet your mouth would only water at the thought.

The stare that he had leveled you with unamused. Arresting as it fixed you in place and forced you to still. As motionless as a statue as he looked down his nose at you, all four of his eyes latched onto your form in glints of searing red; a glint of fangs showing past his curled lips.

"Do not forget that it is my child you're carrying. Denying your hunger is only prolonging the inevitable. You'll cave eventually."

And he was correct. He typically dines alone, but since your pregnancy he's taken to having you accompany him for his meals. He had respected your demand that you were only served human food. Though you never missed the almost arrogant way that he would observe you as you plucked rice into your mouth. Like he was relishing in yourself induced suffering. Like he was waiting for you to break. The curiosity in his eyes always present, but like a challenge you tried you hardest not pay attention to the scent of cooked flesh permeating around the dinner table.

Try as you might it wasn't long until you had all but stolen a cut of meat from his meal, cooked rare and bleeding. And like some sort of ravenous animal, you had scoffed it down, clutching it with trembling fingers that shoved it in your mouth quicker than you could fully chew. Unable to pay your guilt, or the delighted expression on his face any mind as the famished pit in your gut finally felt something close to relief.

❃ As much as you love your child, there are times where it's already begun to display too many shared characteristics with their father. Namely the ability to disturb you and ruin your sleep. They get restless in the night; like clockwork, tossing and turning in your belly and battering the inside of your stomach with a near constant stream of kicks.

They weren't even born yet, and already they seemed to be throwing a tantrum. Pitching a fit as though they were demanding to be released.

It would force you awake, keeping your eyes wide open while sleep stung at them, weighing them down with the temptation to slip closed. But as soon as you would begin to nod off, it's as though the baby in your womb knew, and they'd make sure to punish you with a harsh nudge of their little foot. It's a wonder how something so small can deliver such a harsh strike. Enough to have you wincing; the air hissing sharply through your teeth while you glare up ceiling like you might find salvation in the shadows settled there.

"Are you determined to interrupt my sleep, woman? Why do you keep whining and huffing?"

As enticing as you usually find the sound of his voice, the sudden sound of it rumbling across the quiet is only grating. Your annoyance flaring, worn thin by the bout of kicking that's being delivered to the tender stretch of your stomach.

It had your voice cracking out with equal irritation. Unrestrained in your ire. "That's because your child won't stop kicking at me."

You can't stop yourself from turning your head over to glare at him, meeting his scowl, finding the intense red of his eyes in the dark.

"How annoying." He grumbles, face pinching into a peeved grimace. It makes you tempted to try and climb up from the bedding and leave his quarters all together. Perhaps you could take a walk around the estate until the baby settles. Sometimes if you speak to it, or hum lowly in those old lullabies your own mother had sang to you as a child, they calm down. Soothed by the sound of your voice.

It's as though Sukuna can sense your intent, and in a blur, he's gripping you by the torso to tug you up to his chest in a grip that's uncharacteristically gentle. Nestling you against his body as though you could possibly break.

He's done it before and yet it always manages to shock you into silence. To have you fall quiet and motionless lest you break whatever spell has fallen over him.

It makes you wonder if this is what it would feel like to be a rabbit drawn in to slumber with a wolf. Nestled against its fur, expecting a flash of snarling, drooling teeth, but only finding comfort and warmth instead.

"Troublesome, aren't you?"

There's the desire to retort. To give some sort of scathing remark in defense of yourself. To remind him that the child in your belly is very much his doing just as much as it is yours. Then one of his hands is slipping across the swell of your stomach, smoothing over the skin in a gesture that should be too soft for a man like him.

Using the same hands that are covered in blood from slaying thousands, sorcerers, men, women, and children, to cradle where your child rests. It clicks then that he isn't talking to you.

You dare to glance up at him, and it quickly confirms that his attentions are pinned down on your stomach. The expression on his face is tired, exasperated, but you swear that you can see something almost tender melting at the irritation there.

You wince when the baby lands another kick just beneath your belly button, directly where Sukuna's palm sits, as though they can feel the pressure of it.

"Restless, are you?" He muses, caressing his thumb along the bump. "There's plenty of time for all of that later. There will be many a sorcerer for you to torment once you're older, but for now it's time to rest. Let your mother sleep."

It's so conversational, the way he speaks to them. Talking as though they might possibly answer, and with how strange a being like Sukuna is, you truly wouldn't be surprised if he revealed to you that he could communicate with your unborn child in some manner.

You can feel the baby shifting, some part of its body brushing against your stomach as it moves. And act of defiance possibly, and you half expect to receive the sting of another kick, but it never comes.

You're practically holding your breath as you await another strike, yet there's nothing. Only calm. Only the dim sound of your steady breathing and the soothing hush that's fallen over the dark of the room.

Finally, there's peace. The warmth of Sukuna's body seeping into your back like the steam of a hot bath and just as easily it has your limbs unwinding. The weight of sleep engulfing your body, causing your eyes to fall heavy, the lure to slip shut falling over you like the comfort of a blanket.

His voice purrs out then, low and hushed, thrumming along your shoulders while he whispers a delicate command.

"Sleep."

But that time, you're certain he was speaking to you.

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skipper19 · 6 months ago

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Imagine this...

Satoru has seen the stories you read, the smut you hum about. The fantasies that make your thighs clench and the fluffy words that make you squeal and kick your feet. He reads it with you sometimes, actually. He enjoys learning of your interests. At times, however, he finds himself judging these stories and small drabbles people have written.

And how in the world do you read some of this stuff?

Why is this guy stalking this girl? Why does she like it? Or.. this guy has animal tendencies? Uh.. what? He growls and stuff. Does that mean he poops outside and has a dog bed? Why is that attractive?

Satoru judges these things, but he would never tell you. He doesn't want to offend you or make you insecure about your interests around him. If you like reading about stalkers and borderline creeps, then go ahead! But the one thing Satoru has noticed with these writings is the descriptions used to describe the females.

The male is always dark and broody, cocky and flirtatious. Becoming protective in the most unrealistic (in Satorus opinion) ways. The female protagonist is always skinny with "curves in all the right places." With her "thick hair" and "manicured nails" that any male would swoon over. But.. Satoru hates it.

He hates that you read these types of stories.

He wonders if you ever imagine yourself in those women's shoes, all dolled up and spotless. Not a hair out of place. But Satoru loves the disheveled hair in the morning. He loves to see the eye bags beneath your eyes that take a few minutes of waking up to get rid of. He loves the domestic life he's found with you.

You aren't a sorcerer like him, but you can see curses. You just never enjoyed the thrill of death every day, which Satoru can almost understand. If he didn't have so many responsibilities laid on his shoulders, he may enjoy his job more.

But standing in the face of death every day definitely didn't take the weight of responsibility off of his shoulders.

He loved coming home to you, though. You weren't the best cook. Your mother never took the time to teach you. But you try to cook every now and then. On the days that you do try, Satoru loves coming home to an unorganized house with the smell of food wafting in the kitchen. You don't greet him with a kiss at the door or a hug. You glance at him over your shoulder before smirking. "What pit of hell did you crawl out of?" You would say with a sly smile. Or something snarky as such.

This is the you he fell in love with. Why the hell would he want some young, petite, naive girl with long hair to her ass and nails that could cut a tree in half? This isn't saying you aren't allowed to have these qualities, but Satoru just doesn't have a specific taste for the description of little girls. He loves the woman he's fallen in love with, and he wouldn't want anyone else.

Do you want your nails done? Or do you want a new outfit from the mall? That's fine! Indulge yourself, Satoru's money is your money, and he does love when you're happy. There's just one thing he can't get out of his head.

Do you really see yourself in these women?

Satoru knows you better than anyone! He can read you like a book. Whether this is because of his six eyes or just because he knows you, it doesn't matter. He prides himself on it. Your favorite food, your favorite color, your icks and ticks, he knows it all! That applies to these books and stories you read. He knows the traits and things you would and wouldn't like.

Recently, you haven't been feeling too confident in yourself and your weight, which he's been supporting you through. So he knows you would hate sex in a mirror. He knows you wouldn't want the lights on as he hits it from the back. He knows you would hate wall sex or full Nelson. Satoru understands because he's had his own days when he's just not feeling himself. And you have been there for him as well, just like he's there for you.

He hates when you read these stories that are just so.. unnecessary. So inhuman. Satoru has his own fantasies that he would like to live out with you, but none of them involve crazy things. Like roleplay or mirror sex? He would rather just make love to you in a comfortable position after a long day of work.

Ugh.. the mirror sex.

It's been bothering him for days, he cant get it out of his head. He may have accidentally caught a glance at a small story you were reading through. Something about the male character having sex with the female character after she revealed she was insecure over her chubby tummy. Satoru can't get it out of his head. Wouldn't that just make you more insecure?

He knows you! He knows that you would hate it. It would be uncomfortable and unfamiliar. In those sorts of scenarios, you would want comfort and reassurance. Not rough sex in front of your bedroom mirror.

With these thoughts plaguing his mind, Satoru had no other option but to go to you about it. And no, he wasn't going to just ask you what you preferred because that's idiotic. Obviously. He set up a strategy instead.

On Monday, after a long day at work, you came home to a dim house. You set down your stuff on the counter as you entered the abode. You stopped yourself from calling out Satorus name, just in case. You quietly approach your bedroom (the only room with lights on) and open the bedroom door.

Your eyes widen in shock at the sight of candles on the nightstand, and rose pedals scattered across your bedroom floor. The lights weren't dim, per se, but your eyes definitely did have to adjust, and it didn't take long before you noticed Satorus snow white hair in the corner of the room. You gasped when you put your full attention on him. Giggles escaped your lips as you took in the robe and slippers he was wearing.

Luckily, he had his blindfold off, so you could see the amusement in his eyes. The crinkles in the corner of his eyes when he smiled always made you smile in return. His pearly whites were contagious, to say the least. In this moment, your own laugh echoed in the bedroom as you took in the unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, sight before you.

Satoru stood from the armchair in the corner of the room and strode up to your position at the doorway. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you against his chest. Ah, he was only wearing the robe.

"I feel like I should feel insulted that you're laughing at my hard work." He says in a questioning tone, but of course, with the smile on his lips, you knew he was joking. You shook your head and put your hands on his shoulders so you can lean back and take a proper look at his face. "I don't mean to laugh, I just.. well, this is new?" You say, voice filled with humor, your eyes glancing at the romantic set up in front of you. "I wanted to try something new. Is that a crime?" He mumbled softly, leaning down to kiss your temple.

A hum escaped your lips as your eyes fluttered closed. "No, definitely not a crime, just unexpected. I never took you as the.. cliché type." You poked fun. Your teasing words didn't go far. You were keening into Satorus chest as he pressed soft kisses down the side of your face. It only took seconds for him to have you melting into his arms. It's always been a talent of his, to make you relax and forget about everything but him. And damn did you love it every time.

Satoru pressed a wet kiss to the junction of your throat and collarbone, smirking when a chill runs up your spine. Your hands find purchase in his hair, keeping him pressed up against you. But it wasn't enough. His lips explored the exposed skin of your neck, and his hands made quick work of pulling your shirt over your head.

You forgot if you were wearing any jewelry to take off in the moment, but it didn't even matter. Satoru had your back against the soft bedsheets mere seconds before attacking your skin with his plush lips. It's a crime how sensitive you already were, and he hadn't even started yet. Satorus large hands gently caress up your sides before sliding his fingertips under the straps of your bra and pulling. He was hoping it would just snap off. Make it easy.

Of course, it wasn't cooperating at the moment.

Satoru held back a groan as he pulled away from your soft skin so he could properly manage to unhook your bra. You couldn't help the soft laugh that left your mouth as you eyed his pout. It was so childish, so human, so Satoru. "You are so dramatic, honey." Your sugary voice spoke up. He could listen to that soft voice, call him any name or every name, and he would never get tired of hearing it.

Especially when you let out a sound like that.. Satoru forgets how sensitive your nipples are every time. The bra makes a soft noise when it falls to the ground off to the side, but your brain is too preoccupied by the way Satorus tongue circles your hardened bud. It was bittersweet how fast your brain grew fuzzy.

Your hands found perch in Satorus hair, raking through the soft locks. No doubt he still uses your shampoo, even after you told him off. You subtly comb your nails through his undercut, the sensation causing Satoru to bite a little harder into your plump flesh.

You spread your legs a little wider as he settles between your thighs. There was a glint in Satorus crystal blue eyes as he looked up at you. "I don't think I can take it slow tonight, pretty." There was an undercurrent of something in his voice, almost a warning. You could only wonder what he had planned. Obviously, there had to be something. He went through all of this trouble to make the bedroom romantic, and he never did such a thing unless there's a special occasion going on that day. You could only wonder.

-------------------------------------------------♤

You didn't have to wonder for long, however. Soon enough, Satoru had you bouncing on his cock in front of your bedroom mirror. The embarrassment you felt in this moment overrides the pleasure surging in your gut. All you could think about was the fat on your tummy and the way you actually jiggled when you bounced. You couldn't tell if the blush in your face was from embarrassment or pleasure anymore.

Satoru, despite himself, found extreme pleasure in this. He enjoyed this more than he thought he would. But this wasn't for him. This was simply to test if he was right.

"Toru, ugh~" Your soft voice whined, reaching back to grip his pale thighs. Satoru breathlessley chuckled as he nodded, nuzzling his face into your sweat covered neck. "I know, baby, too much, hm?" He mumbled. The way your eyes cast to the side, the way your stomach clenched and you leaned into his back, it was all he needed to see.

Satoru was right.

In a matter of seconds, the white headed male had your back pressed against the bedsheets. Your head comfortably laid on his pillow. The scent of his cologne and natural body odor wafted your senses, and your eyes heavily blinked, lidding as you looked up at him. His cock was still pressed deeply into your womb, tickling your g-spot, but he was unmoving. Your nails dug into his shoulders as a tearful pout made way onto your face.

Satoru rubbed his hand down the side of your head and rested it on your jaw. He tilted your chin up so he could lay soft pecks on your kiss bitten lips. "You don't like seeing me fuck you in the mirror?" He questioned, already knowing the answer. You shyly shook your head, and your lower lip trembled. Satoru knew you wouldn't. He just knew you too damn well. Fuck those books and the stupid stories on the internet.

"You're my girl. You're mine. I know your body, I know your mind -" a choked moan interrupted his speech as he began to move his hips again. Slow thrusts. "You're not like the girls in those stories you read about. God- hah," His forehead pressed into yours. "Fuck no you're not. You're you, you like what you like. And I know what you like, I know exactly how to make my baby feel good."

His words didn't help the slick from pooling beneath your ass onto the sheets. You grinded your hips up to meet his thrusts. Your hazy mind didn't register exactly what he was talking about anymore, his rambling going on as his pace picked up rigorously. "Damn, fuuck, it's so frustrating that you don't see how perfect you are. How beautiful you are." Wet slaps of skin filled the room, moans only background noise.

Satorus hand cupped your face, squishing your cheeks to make your lips pucker. He couldn't stop himself from snickering, heavily panting as he nipped and kissed on your pouted features. "Shi-it," He panted, a whiny laugh drawing out his words.

"Baby, don't you know how soft my dick would be for other women? God, just the thought of you makes me feral." Satoru was always one for dirty talk, but this was some next level stuff. He was mumbling incoherently at this point. But his pace never once faltered, no, not until he nearly reached his peak. But Satoru couldn't let himself cum before you.

Rapid fingers circled your clit, pinching and pulling on the sensitive bundle of nerves as well. Your back arched into his panting chest, and you finally came. Your moans drowned out his thoughts, and he kept himself as quiet as he could so he would be able to hear every little whine or moan that left you. Your thighs trembled, your nails dug deep into the expance of Satorus shoulders, and your hips bucked against his from being overstimulated.

And your own high is all Satoru needed to reach his.

Creamy ropes of cum shot into your womb, and it seemed endless. Ragged breaths left your mouth as you clung to Satoru in the moment. Eventually, his hips stilled and his cock simply stay nestled deep inside of you. You were sure that if Satoru pulled out right now, his seed would flow out of you like a river.

Satoru smirked as he leaned back slightly, ignoring the way your sweaty chests stick together uncomfortably. "Yeah.. that's right. I know you.. I know exactly who you are and how to take care of you." He mumbled, gently guiding his fingers through your tangled hair.

His free hand traveled to your tummy, and the tips of his fingers traced your stretch marks gently. An embarrassed whine left your exhausted being, and Satoru smiled as you hid your face into his neck. "I know, sweet thing, I know."

Satoru was right. You didn't need fancy sex in a mirror to feel better. You just needed his comfort and touch.

You just needed your Satoru.

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parfaitblogs · 6 months ago

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loml ❀ s. reid x reader

in which even six years apart isn’t too much time for spencer to come see you.

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst/comfort sort of tags: that freaky shit (soul crushing angst). a lot of nothing. approximately the time morgan left the bau (it's mentioned). spoilers for 5x9 (‘100’) if you haven't watched it yet... fade to black. word count: 1.2k a/n: heyyyy… enjoy my the contents of my sad brain lol. this can kinda be a waiting room pt. 2 if you squint. i’m super sick right now so here’s a draft i wasn’t going to post until august (although it’s july 31 so is it technically august?) because i have no energy to write rn. whoops. enjoyy

Your mother once told you she doesn't think you can be just friends with some people.

They're either there to be in your life forever, souls so deeply woven together that you have to be more than friends. Or they're fleeting, and your lives will line up for a short enough period of time that they'll impact you, and then you'll never see them again.

You wished Spencer Reid was the latter.

Not at first. No, at first he was the man you were going to marry. You were certain of it. Discussing your wedding with your friends because it was going to happen, and you were picturing him at the altar. You had fantasised what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life so many times, dedicating so many hours to the concept of it, that when you lost it, you mourned the loss of it as much as you mourned the relationship.

But Spencer Reid was the former. Unfortunately so. Losing so many years to a man you didn't even speak to anymore, because you just can't get over it. Can't get over how you could give someone so much of you, and they will still throw it all away for a narrative they've made up in their mind. Can't get over the narrative he made up of you.

It was justifiable, you supposed. His boss had just lost his (ex) wife because of the job. It was tough for everyone on the team. You didn't think it was so bad he would freak out as much as he did, though.

Because in his mind you were next. He was going to lose you as well. And even that stupidly large brain of his couldn't see how ridiculous that sounded. He refused to listen to you when all he could hear was the screaming in his head of you being next, and the statistics of female abductions. Statistics that were no different between the day before the incident, and the day he broke up with you. They were just louder to him.

An achingly long amount of time had passed from the last time you spoke to him. A pathetic meeting you had requested two months after the breakup, because your life was falling apart and maybe seeing him would make it better.

It didn't.

You wondered if you'd still be shedding tears over him if you hadn't met him that night.

You heard your name, and so your head lifted from your lap. Right, you thought, bitterly. He was here. In your apartment. The same one he used to sleep at, for days on end.

You knew triggers like the back of your hand. They were usually things that made sense. Loud noises, blood, anniversaries. Could you justify your trigger being a whole person?

You hadn't known he was a trigger until that evening, when he had showed up at your apartment door with a bouquet of flowers that you didn't really want, and an insultingly pretty smile. You had broken down, right there in your doorway, crumpling to the floor in a hyperventilating, miserable heap.

He had held you, and frustratingly so, it helped. He didn't speak when he had done it, until you were calmer and were muttering apologies to him, embarrassment replacing the upset.

At which he shushed you. You listened.

"Why are you here?" you broke the silence that followed his calling of your name, voice shaky.

He exhaled audibly. "I wanted to see you."

"No, Spencer," you sniffled. "You don't get to come over with flowers just because you wanted to see me. Why are you here?"

He fell silent, and you wished you could crawl into his brain to see what he was thinking. You presumed a million things.

"Morgan left," he said, quietly, and you felt your mouth go dry.

"Oh."

Then; your eyebrows furrowed. Because did he really have no one to go to? You stared back at him for a few seconds, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about the weight between you two. Staring into his eyes was an easy way to forget that, apparently. It was comforting for you, but perhaps uncomfortable for him.

Because he cleared his throat, and adjusted his position on the couch. "I didn't know where to go. And you said if I needed anything, you would be there and—"

"—People say that as a courtesy, Spencer," you breathed out.

"I know," he said, quickly. "But I really needed someone, and I genuinely didn't know where else to go."

You couldn't slam the door in his face even if you wanted to. Because now you were registering more than just your own emotions. The red rimming his eyes, the dusting of pink on his nose and above his lips.

So, you nodded your head. "Okay. Come here," you said, opening your arms, and took him in between them. Albeit hesitantly. On both ends.

This time he broke down, and you let him. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, your fingers entangled in his curls, scratching at his scalp in the best soothing motion you could.

He cried until he had dehydrated his body, and your arms had begun to cramp from the position they were in. When he pulled back, your heart cracked a little more at the sight, his face wet with tears that stuck his hair to his cheeks, that you cleaned up.

"I miss you."

You froze. He did as well, but for an entirely different reason. At the idea that he had said it. Not you. Him. The words decorated the air and hung there for minutes as you fell silent.

Finally; "You don't mean that."

"Yes I do," his response was quick, as if expecting you to deny him of his own feelings.

"You're upset, and I'm comforting you. You miss Morgan. Not me. Transference," you mumbled, hands dropping from his face.

"This isn't transference."

"Spencer."

You were right. You knew it in the way his shoulders sagged in defeat, and his lips parted as if to say something, only to clamp shut in mental defiance.

"Maybe," he finally said, quietly. "But I do still miss you."

"It's been five years," you answered. He nodded his head in agreement. You exhaled. "I miss you too, Spencer."

He lips twitched, but never reached a smile. "You aren't seeing anyone, then?" he asked.

"You can deduce that, I'm sure."

You were right, he could, and he nodded his head, lips reaching a smile, albeit sadly. "Yeah. Me neither."

"I also figured," you said. "You would've gone to your girlfriend if you had one."

"I would've," he nodded his head, laughing a breathy, awkward laugh. "Instead I went to my ex-girlfriend."

"You did." More uncomfortable silence, before you let out a sigh. Again. "Movie?"

"What?"

"Do you want to watch a movie?" you say the full sentence, a little slower than what was probably necessary. You knew him well enough to know that he hated talking about his feelings, he was an awful communicator. Had been, your brain screams at you. He could've changed.

It seemed he hadn't, because he nodded his head, a smaller, more genuine smile painted his lips. "Yeah. Okay."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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oldsoul007 · 11 days ago

Text

crawling back to you

joel miller x reader

summary: you haven’t seen joel since he let you leave boston with tommy, until…

a/n: grumpy joel, angsty and fluffy

joel miller masterlist

The last thing I remember was the blinding midday sun and the crackling of the dried leaves beneath my boots. I’d been walking for hours—too many hours—with no food, no water, and no sign of a single soul. The world was too quiet, and when the dizziness hit, I knew I’d pushed too far.

I hadn’t seen the raiders coming. Not until it was too late. They burst out from the tree line, shouting, armed, and I’d tried to run. But my body betrayed me. My knees gave out before I could process what was happening, and the hard, cracked asphalt of the road rushed up to meet me as they closed in.

Then darkness.

For a while, there was nothing but a foggy void, until I felt something. A jolt of awareness. The weight of the world slowly pressed back on me: the ache in my limbs, the sting in my throat, and the cold chill of shade falling over my skin.

Voices.

“You think she’s alive?”

The words floated into my consciousness, sharp and clear. My heart raced. The raiders—had they caught me? I wanted to open my eyes, but my body wasn’t listening.

“How the hell should I know, Ellie?”

That voice was rough and edged like the bark of an old tree. Deep. Grumpy. Close. Familiar.

“She looks alive. Kinda.”

“Kinda doesn’t cut it, kid.” A sigh, heavy and annoyed. “She’s breathing, so that’s a good sign. Or bad, depending on how you wanna look at it.”

The ground beneath me was rough gravel digging into my side. Someone must’ve moved me. My knife. My hands twitched instinctively for it, but I didn’t feel the familiar weight at my belt.

“She’s got a backpack,” the girl—Ellie—said. “Maybe she’s got something useful on her.”

“Don’t even think about it,” the man snapped.

“Relax, I was just saying!”

They didn’t sound like raiders. But I wasn’t taking chances. Slowly, I forced my eyelids to lift, but it was like peeling back layers of lead. The light stung, and all I could make out at first was a blurred silhouette looming above me.

“She’s moving!” Ellie’s voice jumped an octave.

“Yeah, I can see that,” the man grumbled.

The shapes above me sharpened: a man with graying hair and a perpetual scowl crouched close, while a girl with curious, wide eyes hovered just behind him. Bottoms of their faces covered with a bandana. My muscles tensed, and instinct screamed one thing: fight.

I surged up, lashing out before I could think. My body felt sluggish, weak, but adrenaline drove me forward.

“Whoa!” Ellie yelped, stumbling back.

He moved faster than I expected. In one fluid motion, he grabbed both of my wrists and shoved me back down onto the ground, pinning me there with a strength I had no hope of matching.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. His face was inches from mine, his grip like iron.

“Get off me!” I spat, twisting against him, but it was useless.

“You wanna try that again?” he snapped, glaring down at me. “Because I guarantee it won’t go how you think.”

“Joel, should I—” Ellie’s voice cut through the wind, and I glanced up to see her pointing a gun at me.

“Hold on,” the man—Joel—said. His voice made something in my chest clench, though I couldn’t place why.

He shifted, one hand leaving my wrist to yank the bandana down from my face. The cold stung my skin as it was exposed to the biting wind, but all I could focus on was his face.

Joel froze. His eyes widened as he stared down at me, his grip slackening just enough for me to shove at his chest.

“Y/n?”

Hearing my name in that voice—his voice—hit me like a gut punch. I blinked up at him, snowflakes catching on my lashes as my brain struggled to catch up.

“Joel?” I rasped, disbelief and anger warring inside me.

He let go of my wrists, sitting back slightly, but I wasn’t done. With a grunt, I shoved him hard enough to make him stumble.

“Get off me, asshole!” I snapped, scrambling to my feet.

Ellie lowered her gun, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, you know her?”

Joel stood slowly, brushing snow off his jacket, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yeah… I know her.”

“Know me?” I barked, crossing my arms against the cold. “That’s all you’ve got to say after years?”

“Not now,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm. “We need to move. It’s not safe out here.”

“Oh, now you care about safety,” I shot back, but the storm was picking up again, and as much as I hated to admit it, I couldn’t stay out here alone.

Ellie glanced between us, still holding the gun loosely. “So… are we just letting her come with us?”

“She’s coming with us,” Joel said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I snorted, pulling my scarf back up. “Like hell I am.”

“Fine,” Joel said, stepping closer until he was towering over me. “Then freeze out here on your own.”

We locked eyes, the familiar stubbornness in his gaze making my blood boil. Finally, I sighed, muttering under my breath. “Fine. But if you pull something like that again, I’m putting a bullet in your knee.”

Ellie raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

Joel smirked—barely, but I caught it. “Good to see you haven’t changed.”

I looked around us.

“Where—” My voice cracked, my throat dry. “Where are they?”

“The raiders?” Joel asked, his tone clipped. “Dead. You’re welcome.”

Ellie shot him a look. “You don’t have to be such a dick about it.”

Joel ignored her, turning to scan the horizon like he was already regretting stopping to help.

Ellie turned back to me, her tone gentler. “You need water? Food? You look like you’re about to keel over.”

I swallowed hard, forcing out a hoarse whisper. “Water…”

Ellie looked at Joel expectantly. “She needs water.”

Joel sighed heavily, like this was the biggest inconvenience in the world, and dug a bottle out of his pack. He shoved it toward me without a word, his scowl deepening.

“Don’t drink too fast,” he muttered. “You’ll puke.”

I took the bottle with shaking hands, sipping carefully.

Ellie gave me a small smile. “See? He’s grumpy, but he’s not so bad., but i’m guessing you knew that already. I’m Ellie, by the way. What’s your name again?”

“Y/n,” I croaked.

“Well, y/n,” she said, leaning back on her heels. “Looks like you’re stuck with us for now.”

Joel shot her a glare, but she just smiled sweetly at him.

As I sipped the water, trying not to choke, I couldn’t help but wonder why Ellie seemed so eager to help me—and why Joel seemed so reluctant to.

The pain in my thigh hit me like a freight train the moment I tried to stand. It was sharp and hot, radiating up my leg with every twitch of movement. I glanced down and saw the blood, dark and sticky, soaking through a jagged tear in my jeans. My stomach turned.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, dropping back to the ground.

Joel and Ellie were still nearby, Joel pacing with his rifle slung low, Ellie crouched by the fire, poking at it absentmindedly. I pressed my hand against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it wasn’t doing much good.

“You okay?” Ellie asked, looking up.

“Fine,” I lied, my voice tight.

“Yeah, sure you are,” Joel muttered without even glancing my way.

I glared at him but focused back on my leg. I needed to stop the bleeding, clean it—do something before it got worse. My hands fumbled as I tried to tear a strip from the already-ruined part of my jeans, but my fingers were shaking too much to get a good grip.

“Dammit,” I hissed, tugging harder.

Joel finally turned, watching me struggle with an expression that screamed irritation. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I can handle it,” I snapped, not looking at him.

“Yeah, sure looks like it,” he said dryly, crossing the distance in a few long strides. Before I could protest, he crouched down in front of me and grabbed my leg.

“Hey!” I yelped, jerking back.

“Hold still,” he growled, yanking my jeans up over the wound to get a better look.

“What are you—”

“Helping,” he said sharply, cutting me off. “Because you clearly can’t do this yourself.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need you bleeding out and slowing us down,” he shot back, his hands already pulling a small bottle of alcohol from his pack.

I froze when I saw it. “Wait—wait.”

He didn’t stop, just uncapped the bottle and dumped it onto the wound in one swift motion.

Pain exploded through my thigh, white-hot and searing. I couldn’t stop the scream that ripped out of me, my whole body jerking away from him.

“Goddammit!” I shouted, clutching at my leg. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Stop moving,” Joel barked, his hand clamping down on my leg to keep it still. “You’re just making it worse.”

“You could’ve warned me!”

“I did,” he said flatly, grabbing a clean cloth and pressing it firmly against the cut.

“Yeah, great warning!” I hissed, still trying to recover from the burn.

Ellie was sitting nearby, watching the whole thing with wide eyes. “Uh, yeah, he’s not exactly the most�� delicate, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Joel ignored her, wrapping the bandage tightly around my thigh with the kind of practiced efficiency that made me wonder how many times he’d done this before.

“Can you walk?” he asked once he was done, standing and offering me a hand.

I stared at it for a second, then grudgingly took it. He hauled me up, steadying me when my leg wobbled.

“I’m fine,” I muttered, even though I wasn’t.

“Sure you are,” he said, his tone making it clear he didn’t believe me.

Later that night, we camped near a small fire Joel had built, the warmth of the flames doing little to ease the tension between us. Ellie sat across from me, poking at the fire with a stick, while Joel leaned against a nearby tree, his arms crossed and his rifle within easy reach.

“So,” I said after a long silence, my voice cutting through the crackle of the fire. “Where are you two headed?”

Ellie perked up immediately, her mouth opening before she could stop herself. “We’re going to—”

“We’re going to the Fireflies,” Joel interrupted, his voice steady and sure.

Ellie froze, her eyes darting between the two of us. “Joel!?” she hissed, clearly caught off guard by his honesty.

I frowned, looking between them. “The Fireflies? Why?” I could tell there was something they weren’t saying, something important.

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Because Ellie’s immune,” he said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of what those words meant. “And they’re working on a cure.”

I blinked, my mind racing to catch up. “Immune?” I repeated, glancing at Ellie.

Ellie shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to someone new knowing. “Yeah,” she mumbled, shrugging. “I got bit. Didn’t turn. That was, like, forever ago.”

I stared at her, processing what Joel had just admitted. “And you’re taking her to the Fireflies,” I said slowly. “Because they think they can use her immunity to make a cure.”

“That’s the idea,” Joel said, his tone neutral. “Whether it’ll work or not, that’s anyone’s guess.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms as I studied him. Joel wasn’t the type to trust anyone with this kind of information lightly. The fact that he was telling me now said a lot.

“And you’re okay with me knowing all this?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

Joel held my gaze, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t’ve said anything if I didn’t trust you.”

That hit harder than I expected. For a moment, I couldn’t find the words. Joel and I had history—messy, complicated history—but this… this was something else.

After a long pause, I finally spoke. “Where are the Fireflies at?” I glanced at Joel, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Salt Lake City,” he replied, his tone flat, as if that was the only answer he had to offer.

I nodded, thinking for a moment. “That’s a hell of a trip.”

Joel didn’t respond to that, so I let the silence stretch a bit longer, watching the flickering flames. The crackle of the fire was the only thing filling the space between us.

I shifted slightly, the weight of the night starting to press on me. “I was with a group,” I said after a beat, keeping my voice low, like the words might break something if I said them too loud. “Good people. Or… they were. Got separated after some raiders hit us a couple days back. Didn’t have much of a choice but to run.” I paused, my gaze flicking to Ellie, who was staring at the fire, her expression unreadable. “I wasn’t planning on being out here alone.”

Joel watched me for a long time, and I could tell he was taking in every word, sizing up what I said, probably weighing if it added up. “You got a place to go?” he asked.

I swallowed, hesitant. I hadn’t told him much about Jackson yet. The thought of it felt like a fleeting memory, a piece of the past I wasn’t sure I could go back to. But the truth was, it might be the safest place for all of us, at least for a while.

“Yeah,” I finally said, my voice steady. “I got a home back in Jackson. It’s… safe there. Got supplies, people. It’s not perfect, but it’s the closest thing to normal I’ve seen in years.”

Ellie looked up then, her brow furrowed. “Jackson? You mean, like, an actual town?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Walled-in, secure. We’ve got farms, housing, everything you’d need. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than out here.”

Joel’s face darkened slightly, though I couldn’t tell if it was from hope or suspicion. I felt the weight of the unspoken questions hanging in the air between us. I had to bite back the words that wanted to spill out—about Tommy, about how he was safe and well in Jackson. But I stopped myself. Ellie was sitting there, and I didn’t know how she’d react if Joel found out his brother was there.

Instead, I kept my tone even. “If you’re heading to Salt Lake City, we can stop there first. Restock on supplies, maybe grab a decent meal. Then you can keep moving.”

Joel turned his gaze toward me, his eyes narrowing a little, his jaw clenched. “You sure it’s safe?”

I nodded, my voice firm. “It is. Safer than out here, anyway.”

Ellie, still quiet, looked from Joel to me. After a moment, she shrugged, but her gaze lingered on me for a second too long. “I mean… doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

Joel looked at her, then back at me. He hesitated for a moment, and I saw the conflict flicker in his eyes. Finally, he gave a small nod. “All right. We’ll stop there. But just for supplies. Ain’t got time to waste.”

I nodded, a small relief washing over me. We’d do this. I’d help them, guide them, and maybe even find a moment to tell Joel about Tommy—if I could. The fire crackled between us, the sounds of the night closing in as we all settled back into the quiet.

Joel leaned back against a log, his eyes flicking upward to the stars, while Ellie poked the fire again, lost in her own thoughts. I wrapped my coat tighter around myself, feeling the weight of the journey ahead pressing down.

I wasn’t sure what would come next, but I was going to get them to Jackson first. Maybe, after that, I could finally tell Joel the truth.

Joel didn’t say anything else, just turned his attention back to the fire. But the tension between us felt lighter now, the weight of unspoken things settling into something almost comfortable.

Whatever happened next, I knew one thing for sure: Joel trusted me enough to tell me the truth. And that, in this world, meant everything.

The three of us sat around the small campfire, its glow casting flickering light onto the trees surrounding us. The temperature had dropped as the sun set, and I was grateful for the warmth of the flames and the smell of something vaguely edible Joel was cooking over them.

Ellie sat cross-legged on her sleeping bag, fiddling with the pages of her battered joke book. She had already gone through a handful of them today, and each time Joel looked like he was about ready to roll his eyes out of his head.

“Okay, okay,” Ellie announced, holding up a hand as though commanding our attention. “This one’s a classic. You ready?” She cleared her throat dramatically, glancing between me and Joel. “What do you call an alligator in a vest?”

I stifled a laugh already, knowing she was probably more excited about the punchline than the joke itself.

Joel, stirring the pan of food, gave her a sideways look. “Do I even wanna know?”

“An investigator!” Ellie exclaimed, cackling as if it were the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

I couldn’t help but chuckle along with her, more at her reaction than the joke. Joel just shook his head and sighed heavily, setting the pan down on a flat rock by the fire.

“She’s been doin’ this since we left Boston,” he muttered, as though he were lamenting some great burden he’d been forced to bear.

“Damn right I have!” Ellie said, puffing out her chest with mock pride. “You know you love it, Joel.”

He gave her a look that was somewhere between amused and exasperated. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, kid.”

Ellie smirked, flipping through the pages of the book again. “Oh, I’m not done. I’ve got more where that came from.”

“God help us,” Joel said under his breath, but there was a ghost of a smile on his face.

I leaned back, my hands stretched out toward the fire, watching the two of them. “You know,” I said, grinning, “I think it’s impressive she’s been carrying that book all this way. Priorities.”

Ellie nodded vigorously, pointing at me. “Exactly! See, y/n gets it. I’m spreading joy in the apocalypse. That’s a valuable service.”

Joel snorted. “Sure. That’s what it is.”

Ellie stuck her tongue out at him before turning to me. “Okay, y/n, this one’s for you: Why couldn’t the bicycle stand up by itself?”

I thought for a second, but before I could even guess, she blurted out, “Because it was two tired!”

Her laughter was contagious, and I found myself laughing right along with her. Even Joel let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe this was his life now.

“Two tired,” I repeated, grinning. “That’s actually not bad.”

“Thank you!” Ellie said, pretending to tip an invisible hat. “I’ll be here all week. Or, you know, as long as it takes us to get to Jackson.”

Joel let out a long sigh, but there was no missing the warmth in his expression as he looked at her. “You’re somethin’ else, kid.”

Ellie beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Damn right I am.”

And in that moment, as the fire crackled and Ellie started flipping through her book for another gem, I couldn’t help but think that even in a world like this, there was still room for laughter. And that was worth holding onto.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth flickering in the cool night air. Ellie was asleep, her body curled up tightly in her sleeping bag, breathing steady and slow. Joel sat across from me, his figure dark against the firelight, eyes distant as usual. There was a heaviness in the air, a silence that weighed on both of us.

I’d been toying with whether or not to tell him, but after today, I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. It was something Joel needed to know, something that would either ease his mind or make the road ahead even harder.

“Joel,” I said softly, not wanting to disturb Ellie’s sleep.

His head turned slightly, his eyes catching mine in the dim firelight. He didn’t say anything, just waited for me to speak.

“I’ve been thinking about Jackson,” I began, feeling the weight of the words before they even left my mouth. “And… there’s something you need to know.”

Joel gave a slight nod, signaling me to go on. I hesitated for a moment, gathering the courage.

“Tommy’s there,” I said, keeping my voice low but steady.

The moment the words left my lips, I saw the shift in him. His face didn’t betray much, but his posture stiffened. He didn’t react right away, though I could feel the tension building in his body. His jaw tightened, and for a long beat, he was silent, staring into the fire.

I let the words settle in the air. I could see him thinking, piecing together the years of separation, the anger, the hurt.

“You didn’t know, did you?” I asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Joel’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, the weight of his past with Tommy hanging between us. “No,” he said, his voice rough, like the realization had hit him harder than he expected. “I thought… I thought he was dead.”

I swallowed, knowing how much those words meant. Joel had carried the guilt of losing Tommy for so long, thinking the worst, even when he didn’t want to believe it. I hadn’t expected the reaction I got—gratitude in his eyes, mixed with that edge of disbelief.

“Tommy’s alive, Joel,” I repeated, my voice softer now. “And he’s at Jackson. He’s been there, rebuilding, trying to make a life. I thought you should know.”

For a long moment, Joel didn’t speak. He just stared at the fire, his brow furrowed, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes.

Finally, he exhaled a long, steady breath, as if the news had knocked the wind out of him. “I thought… I thought I’d lost him for good,” he said, almost to himself.

His words trailed off, but the gratefulness in his voice was clear, almost as if he’d been holding onto the idea of Tommy being gone as a way to shield himself from hope. It had been easier to live with the belief that Tommy was lost than to think he might have been alive all this time, somewhere out there.

I watched him carefully, feeling the rawness of the moment between us. “Maybe he’s been waiting for you,” I said quietly, not wanting to push, but knowing the door was now open. “Maybe he’s been hoping you’d find your way back to him.”

Joel didn’t respond right away, his face unreadable. He ran a hand through his hair, the weight of the past catching up with him.

I could see the turmoil in him, the complex mix of emotions he’d buried deep for so long.“You don’t have to decide anything now. But I wanted you to know.”

Joel finally looked up at me, the hardness in his eyes softened by something else—relief, maybe. Or maybe just the shock of knowing his brother wasn’t lost to him after all.

“‘preciate you tellin’ me,” he said quietly, his voice rough with something I couldn’t quite name.

There was a silence, thick with all the things left unsaid. Joel turned back to the fire, but this time, I didn’t sense the same tension in him. The news had cracked something open, a small window of possibility where before there had only been despair.

And as the night stretched on, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was the first step in bringing Joel and Tommy back together—or if the past would remain an insurmountable wall between them. But one thing was clear: the hope he’d long buried was alive again.

The snow crunched softly beneath our boots as we trekked through the wilderness on the way to Jackson. The cold bit at my nose and cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of Joel and Ellie’s banter ahead of me.

Joel led the way, his rifle slung over one shoulder, his other hand gesturing as he explained something to Ellie. She hung onto his every word as usual, peppering him with questions about the terrain and wildlife.

“Do you think we’ll see any bears?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Nope,” Joel replied gruffly. “Too cold for ‘em right now. They’re holed up for the winter.”

Ellie groaned in disappointment. “Lame. What about wolves?”

“Let’s hope not,” Joel muttered, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “You don’t wanna see wolves, trust me.”

“Speak for yourself,” Ellie grumbled, kicking at a chunk of ice. “I think wolves are badass.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I brought up the rear. Ellie’s energy was infectious, even if Joel often acted like he was too old to keep up.

We rounded a bend in the trail, and that’s when we saw it.

An elk.

It stood in the middle of the clearing, its tall, proud antlers stark against the white of the snow-covered forest. Its coat gleamed in the weak winter sunlight, steam rising from its breath as it exhaled into the cold air.

Ellie gasped audibly, her mouth falling open. “Whoa. No way.”

Joel stopped in his tracks, holding out an arm to keep her from running ahead. “Stay still,” he warned softly.

Ellie ignored him completely, taking a careful step forward. “Oh my god, it’s huge. It’s so cool.”

The elk’s ears twitched, swiveling toward us, and for a moment, I thought it might bolt. But instead, it let out a low, guttural bugle—a deep sound that echoed through the trees.

Ellie froze, her eyes going even wider. “Did you hear that? Holy shit, it talked to us!”

Joel chuckled under his breath, his shoulders relaxing as he watched her excitement. “That’s not talkin’, kid. Just elk bein’ elk.”

But Ellie wasn’t listening. She took another step forward, her hands lifted slightly as if to beckon the creature closer. “Hey, buddy,” she said in a soft, awestruck voice. “You don’t have to go. We’re cool, I promise.”

The elk snorted, its breath visible in the cold air, and then—with a graceful bound—it leapt into the trees, disappearing from sight.

Ellie whirled around to face us, practically vibrating with excitement. “Did you see that? That was the most amazing thing ever! Did you hear it? That noise was insane!”

Joel shook his head, but there was a small, fond smile on his face. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

“I’m serious! That was so badass!” She turned to me, her grin so big it lit up her entire face. “Y/n, tell me you got how cool that was.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I adjusted my pack. “I got it, Ellie. You’re right—it was pretty incredible.”

Ellie groaned dramatically. “Pretty incredible? That thing was, like, majestic as hell.”

We started walking again, Ellie skipping along beside us as she reenacted the elk’s bugle. Joel shook his head at her impression, and I felt a warm glow in my chest as I watched them together.

The world outside was cold, dangerous, and unforgiving, but moments like this reminded me why we kept going. For Ellie’s wonder. For Joel’s quiet, steady presence. For the strange, beautiful family we’d become.

The cold cut deep as we trudged through the snow, the wind howling like it wanted to drive us into the ground. My leg throbbed with every step, the makeshift bandage Joel had wrapped around it holding tight but doing little to ease the pain. I wasn’t about to complain, though. Not after they saved me from those raiders.

Ellie walked beside me, her steps crunching in the snow as she glanced over. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked for the third time since we started walking.

“I’m fine,” I said, though my voice was tight. The truth was, I wasn’t fine. But what mattered was getting all of us somewhere safe, and Jackson was the only place I could think of.

Joel walked ahead, his rifle slung low but ready, his eyes scanning the horizon. Always the same—guarded and alert, like danger was lurking just around every corner. In this world, it usually was.

I’d agreed to help them get to Jackson. It was the least I could do after everything they’d done for me. And Jackson? It was my home now. A place that, for all its faults, still stood strong in a broken world.

“Not much farther now,” I said, though the storm had made it hard to tell. “If we keep moving, we’ll make it before dark.”

Ellie gave a tired nod, pulling her coat tighter around her. “Good, ‘cause I don’t think my toes are gonna make it.”

Joel glanced back at her, his expression softening for just a moment. “You’ll be fine. Just keep moving.”

We’d just crested a small hill when the sound of horses cut through the wind. My heart leapt into my throat as I turned to see them—figures on horseback emerging from the blinding snow, their weapons drawn.

“Joel,” I hissed, grabbing his arm.

He saw them too, his posture tensing as he stepped in front of Ellie and raised his rifle. “Stay behind me,” he muttered, his voice low and firm.

The riders spread out, circling us. There were at least six of them, their horses pawing at the snow as the riders aimed shotguns and rifles in our direction. My stomach churned as I recognized one of the voices calling out through the storm.

“Drop your weapons!” Maria shouted, her voice carrying over the wind.

“Maria!” I called back, stepping forward despite Joel’s arm shooting out to stop me. “It’s me—y/n!”

The tension in the air crackled like static. For a moment, no one moved. Then Maria urged her horse forward, squinting through the snow until recognition crossed her face.

“Y/n?” she said, lowering her shotgun slightly. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

“It’s a long story,” I said, relief flooding through me. “But these two—” I motioned to Joel and Ellie, who were still frozen in place. “They’re with me. They saved my life.”

Maria’s gaze shifted to Joel, her eyes narrowing. “That him?”

I blinked, confused, until realization dawned. Of course, Tommy must’ve mentioned Joel before.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “It’s him. And this is Ellie. They’re just passing through. Please, Maria, lower the guns.”

Maria hesitated, her gaze flicking between me, Joel, and Ellie. Then she gave a sharp whistle, and the other riders lowered their weapons.

“Alright,” she said, her tone cautious but less hostile. “Let’s get back to Jackson. You look like hell.”

I almost laughed. “You have no idea.”

The ride back was quiet, the tension between Joel and Maria palpable. Ellie, for once, didn’t say much, her gaze fixed on the snowy landscape as we made our way through the storm.

When the gates of Jackson finally came into view, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The sight of the sturdy walls, the faint glow of firelight beyond—it was the first time in a long while that I felt like things might actually be okay.

The gates of Jackson creaked open as the group rode in, the heavy snowfall outside muffled by the sturdy wooden walls of the settlement. Inside, the warmth of fires and the sound of distant chatter greeted us. It was like stepping into another world—one where life hadn’t completely crumbled. The bustling streets, people moving with purpose, children playing—it was overwhelming after days of cold, silence, and death.

Joel dismounted his horse slowly, his eyes scanning the settlement as if it were a mirage. His rifle hung loosely on his shoulder, his posture stiff, as if he wasn’t quite ready to believe this place was real. Ellie stuck close to him, her eyes wide with curiosity as she took in the sight of people—families—living normal lives, or as close to normal as you could get these days.

Maria swung off her horse, handing the reins to a stablehand. “Y/n, go with Ethan and get checked out. You’re in no condition to be walking around on that leg,” she said, but her gaze flicked to Joel.

Then Tommy appeared.

Tommy was working on some construction, the sound of hammering and the distant clatter of tools filling the air. As we walked closer, I could see a few men working, their backs turned to us as they focused on their tasks. The moment I saw Tommy, though, my breath caught in my throat.

He was hard at work, his back bent as he nailed some boards into place, completely unaware of our approach. I could feel the tension rising in Joel beside me, the anticipation thick in the air.

And then, without warning, Joel’s voice broke through the stillness, loud and commanding:

“Tommy!”

The sound of his name cut through the air like a crack of thunder. The men working nearby stopped what they were doing, and for a brief moment, it felt like the entire world went still.

Tommy froze, his back still to us, and I watched as his shoulders stiffened. He slowly turned, his eyes scanning the area, before they landed on Joel. His face went slack for a moment—an unreadable mix of disbelief, relief, and confusion. The moment seemed to stretch on, as though neither of them quite believed what was happening.

Then, Tommy blinked, and before I knew it, he was striding across the ground, closing the distance between them. He didn’t say a word at first, just reached Joel in two quick strides and pulled him into a tight, almost desperate hug.

The sound of it—the weight of all that lost time between them—was deafening. The hard lines in Joel’s face softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let out a deep breath, like something inside him had been released. They stood there for a moment, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered.

Tommy pulled back first, his hand gripping Joel’s arm, his voice gruff as he spoke, almost too soft for me to hear. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Joel looked at him, his eyes full of that familiar pain but also something else—something deeper. “Thought you were dead, Tommy.”

Tommy’s face softened, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of the brotherly bond they once shared. “Guess I got a bit tired of waitin’ around, but I’m here now, Joel.”

The silence between them spoke louder than any words could. It wasn’t just a reunion—it was a reckoning. Years of pain, of choices that had torn them apart, now coming to a head.

They pulled back, Tommy’s hands gripping Joel’s shoulders as he looked him over, his eyes scanning every line, every scar. “You look like hell,” he said with a half-smile, though his voice wavered.

Joel gave a faint huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… it’s been a long road.”

Tommy’s gaze shifted, landing on Ellie, who was standing just behind Joel, watching the reunion with quiet curiosity. “And this must be…?”

“Yeah,” Joel said, stepping slightly to the side so Ellie could step forward. “This is Ellie.”

Ellie gave a small wave, clearly unsure of what to say. “Uh, hi.”

Tommy chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Well, any friend of Joel’s is welcome here.”

For the first time in a long time, the weight Joel carried seemed to ease, if only slightly. It wasn’t just Jackson that felt like a safe haven—it was the connection, the bond that hadn’t been broken, even after all this time.

And for a moment, it felt like the world wasn’t so heavy after all.

Joel walked slowly down the stairs, the creaking of the wooden steps the only sound in the quiet house. The dim light of the living room pooled on the floor, where I sat curled up on the couch, my eyes fixed on him as he approached. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with the weight of everything that had just transpired. His steps faltered slightly, the heaviness of the fight with Ellie still weighing on him.

I didn’t say anything at first, just watched him with an unreadable expression, the flickering light casting shadows across her face. He rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the exhaustion in his bones. The world felt quieter in moments like this, like it was holding its breath.

“You really think that’s the answer, huh?” I said, my tone biting but not cruel.

Joel didn’t meet my gaze right away, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

He huffed out a bitter laugh, the kind that wasn’t funny at all. “Don’t start with me. You don’t know the half of it.”

“Don’t I?” I finally spun around to face him, my voice rising with the heat of my anger. “You think I haven’t been watching this slow-motion train wreck of yours? You think I don’t know what you’re doing—pushing her away before she can leave you?”

His face darkened, the shadows casting sharp lines across his features. “This ain’t about me and Ellie. Don’t twist it. This is about you always thinkin’ you know better.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” I stepped closer, my hands trembling with fury. “You don’t get to stand here and act like you’re the only one who’s been hurt. You let me leave, Joel! You stood there and let me walk out of Boston like I was nothing to you. You never even tried to stop me.”

His silence hit harder than his words ever could. I saw his throat work, his jaw tightening as he stared at me like he was trying to break me down with his gaze alone.

“You wanted to leave,” he finally said, his voice quieter but no less cutting. “What the hell was I supposed to do? Beg? You made your choice.”

“Because you didn’t give me a reason to stay!” My voice cracked, the words laced with all the pain I’d kept buried for far too long. “Do you know what it was like, leaving behind everything—leaving you—because I thought I wasn’t enough? That I’d never be enough for you?”

The firelight flickered in his eyes, and for the first time, I saw it—the guilt, the regret. He took a step closer, his broad shoulders sagging under the weight of unspoken words.

“Y/n…” He said my name like it hurt to say it. “I thought I was doin’ right by you. You deserved better than what I could give you. Still do.”

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as tears threatened to spill. “You’re such a goddamn coward, Joel. Always thinking you know what’s best for everyone else. You don’t get to decide what I deserve. You don’t get to—”

But before I could finish, he closed the distance between us in one sudden, desperate motion. His hands came up to cup my face, rough palms trembling against my skin. His breath was warm, ragged as it ghosted over my lips.

“I ain’t a coward,” he murmured, his voice raw.

I opened my mouth to argue, to push him away like I had every right to, but the words caught in my throat. His eyes burned into mine, and in that moment, everything else—the fight, the years of distance, the pain—faded into nothing.

He kissed me like a man starved, like he was afraid I might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough. My hands found their way to his chest, gripping the worn fabric of his flannel as I kissed him back with all the anger and longing I’d been too afraid to admit.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was years of unspoken feelings, of missed chances and buried love, all colliding in one explosive moment.

When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing hard. His hands lingered on my face, his thumbs brushing away the tears I hadn’t realized had fallen.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “For Boston. For everything.”

I closed my eyes, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Me too,” I whispered back, my voice trembling.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing and the crackle of the fire. And for the first time in years, I didn’t feel so alone.

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thankyouivy · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii! I am reading allllll your blurbs and ffs and god I adore your writing!!!!!

Could you write about Spencer Reid and reader (no sub! Or dom! dynamic If it’s ok) in their early stages of their relationship (at this point they’ve already had sex and he found out he’s totally obsessed with eating her out), and pleads for her to sit on his face but she doesn’t wanna do it at first cause she’s a bit worried she might hurt him? But he begs her so much he convinces her and well… the rest I’ll leave it to you! ;)

If it’s alright with you of course💘💓💕💖💗

i got you babycakes!!!

warnings: oral sex [f rec], face sitting, begging, hair pulling, cumming untouched, this is just pure smut.

———

Need - Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

“Please, sugar,” Spencer whispers into your ear.

He’s been asking you the same thing for the past few weeks, a fantasy of his that just won’t go away; he wants you to sit on his face.

Spencer is very into oral, specifically, eating you out for as long as you’ll let him. When you asked him about this, he explained thats it’s something called an oral fixation, he literally can’t get enough of it, which would add up, because you can count how many times the two of you have had sex without him giving you head on one hand.

(Evidently, all of those times had just been when you were too tired to go for an entire hour and just needed him inside you immediately, to which he had given you a little pout and then fulfilled your request.)

Whatever his reasoning is, eating you out gets both you and him off, and he wants more.

“Spencer, im just not sure about it, what if I hurt you?” You tell him. You’re straddling his hips while he’s laid out on his couch, you in a loose shirt and panties, and him in his work clothes, minus the tie.

“It’s completely safe if done properly, I did my research.” He reassures you, planting a kiss on your lips as he runs his hand up your back under your shirt.

“Research, huh?” You giggle at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “mhmm,” he hums and smiles into another kiss.

As you pull apart, he whispers, “please baby, I want to make you feel so good… wanna taste you,” his voice is breathy and his pupils are blown wide with lust.

You whimper and grind down slightly in his lap, desperate for a little bit of friction as his words shoot straight to your core. He groans at your ministrations and you can feel him getting hard beneath you through your panties. “I want you to take what you need from me… grind that pretty little pussy on my tongue until you cum in my mouth…”

You moan at his words, bite your lip, and nod your head frantically. Who knew Spencer could be so persuasive?

Ecstatic that he finally got a yes out of you, Spencer lifts you off his lap momentarily and helps you pull your panties down and off your legs, biting his lip when he sees you’re soaked.

You start unbuttoning his shirt but only get to about half before he gets to impatient and pulls your own shirt over your head, exposing your bare chest. He bites his lip and places a hot, open-mouthed kiss on your lips, and you can feel him, rock hard through his suit pants.

He flops back down onto the couch, pulling you with him, as he shuffles down a bit more, giving room for your knees to sit on either side of his head.

Slowly, you crawl up his body, until you’re hovering above his face. His hair is messy and splayed out across the leather of his couch, his shirt is half off one shoulder, and he is visibly salivating as he stares directly at your core.

Noticing you still look a little unsure, he gives you a little smile. “if I need you to get off, which is extremely unlikely, I will tap your hip twice, alright, sugar?” He asks, and you nod. “You’re in control here, if you want to stop, we will stop.” He assures you, and you can’t help but blush. Could he get any sweeter?

Feeling more confident in the situation and a little less nervous, you slowly lower your hips onto his face, putting as little weight onto him as possible.

Immediately he licks into you, grabbing your hips and guiding them further onto him. You let out a gasp and your hips stutter away from the pleasure momentarily before he pulls you right back into his mouth.

His tongue runs through your folds, lapping up your wetness, and you moan loudly. His tongue flicks over your hardened clit, humming in delight when he feels you become wetter. You whine, letting more weight settle onto him and grinding into the teasing, hands searching for something to grab onto, eventually grabbing his hair with one and the armrest of the couch with the other.

You were reduced to soft moans, little uh’s and ah’s leave your mouth as your hips stutter and your eyes roll back into your skull.

He begins licking into your opening while his nose ruts against your clit and you throw your head back and shut your eyes tightly, moaning so loud the neighbours can probably hear everything that’s going on, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“F- uck! oh my god, Spencer-” You cry out, and that just spurs him on. His own hips are twitching, arching off the couch as he eats you out.

Heat is coiling in your stomach, Spencers name is the only thing reverberating in your head. Why were you ever against this idea again?

“Oh- Ah- god Spencer- you’re gonna make me- holy- sh- it!” You cry

Spencer moans against you as you chant his name, frantically humping his face as he sucks on your clit.

“FUCK! I’m cumming!” You scream as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. You yank Spencer’s hair and your hips spasm on his face as Spencer lets out his own whimpers and cries. His hips thrust upwards as his own orgasm reaches him and his eyes roll back into his head.

Your back is arched and you’re leaning over him as you catch your breath. For a second you black out and completely forget you’re sitting on his face, but once you remember you quickly lift your hips up and look down at him with a worried expression.

Spencer looks completely blissed out. He gently rubs his large hands up and down your sides as you breathe heavily, and licks your slick off his lips. He grins at you, lust still evident in his eyes.

“We are so doing that again.”

More of my stuff can be found here.

~Ivy 🪴

#criminal minds #munch!spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x reader

1K notes · View notes

iloveinej · 1 year ago

Text

Unquenchable

Theodore Nott x reader

Catagory: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Handjob, dom!reader, they're in looove

Summary: Theodore and her venture down a path they'd never stepped upon. Because of Theodore's insatiable desire and her new night dress.

Words: 3,7k

AN: I have nothing to say. Enjoy.

She could feel his eyes on her, even if he tried to hide them by reading the book resting between his fingers. She didn't know why he was so inclined to always have his eyes on her. Especially when she was only brushing her teeth, lather covering her lips and running down her chin. She didn't look attractive at all.

But what she didn't realize was that the silky, skintight nightgown she wore gave Theodore the perfect view of the behind of her thighs. And the fabric ended right below her behind, teasing Theodore's poor old heart to death.

It was the first she had ever worn something so revealing, especially in front of him. Usually, she buried herself in her brother's old clothes and rags, finding them to be the most comfortable clothing.

And not that she didn't look dashing in those, but this was new territory for Theodore, and he wasn't taking it very well.

His heart was increasingly picking up speed and the apples of his cheeks were burning with either shame or lust, which one he didn't know. He was lucky that the duvet was covering the lower part of his body, otherwise, his desire would be much harder to hide than it already was.

(Name) threw a last, suspicious glance in Theodore's way, noticing his clenched jaw, before leaning over the tap and spitting the remains of the toothpaste out before washing it off her lips. Then she sauntered out of the bathroom, closing the door and absentmindedly rubbing her eye out of exhaustion.

Theodore's eyes were glued to her face as she floated around the room, blowing out the warm candles that were scattered on her many shelves and drawers, slowly inciting the room into a solace of darkness. The only thing helping her see being the last candle on the nightstand, which she waited to blow out.

Instead, she lifted her side of the duvet and crawled under, glowing at the warmth it provided. As an extra procedure turned over to Theodore and efficiently latched onto his bare side, her arm hugging around his torso and her head being buried in between his neck and shoulder.

It wasn't often that they got a chance to be with each other during the night times because of Hogwarts rules and the partition between the boys, girls, and different houses. This is why these moments are always highly appreciated, no matter where, how, or when.

Her nose, lips, and forehead rest comfortably on his pulse point, ears perking at every beat of his heart and bathing in the comfort of being so close to him. She doesn't think about how fast it is beating, or how Theodore's breathing is slightly uneven. Before, when she lay down, she didn't notice how he directed her legs when she wrapped herself around him so that she wouldn't accidentally grace his, at the moment, very sensitive area.

"Are you done reading soon?" She asked, his skin muffling her words and the air tickling his neck. And he raised his arm which he formerly circled her and stroked her hair back, his eyes stuck on the pages. "Only two pages left. Then I'm all yours."

A girlish smile lit up her face and she buried herself even deeper into his neck, not letting Theodore see how easily he made her insides melt and her face heat.

And as promised, after reading the last two pages of the chapter, he closed the book and put it on the floor. And (Name) took the honor of leaving his side and blowing out the last candles, this time letting the room be cast in a shadow.

Theodore eyes were glued on the back of her body as she leaned forwards, and painfully remembered the hard piece of trouble that throbbed between his legs. Before, when she was pushed up against him and his eyes actually could focus on the words in his book, he had forgotten how turned on he was. But it seemed everything she did right now made his pent-up mind turn to the less innocent part of his brain.

(Name) stopped all her movements when a large palm placed itself between her shoulder blades and gently pressed. Not to push her, but to feel her skin, how her muscles moved beneath his hand. The hand travels from its place in the middle of her back, up to her neck. Her arms gained goosebumps when Theodore cupped her neck between his fingers and thumb, fingertips almost reaching to her throat.

A sigh of delight is all she can muster when he rubs circles into her neck, carefully turning her head towards him. His black pupils had taken over his iris, only leaving a rim of his brown-stained, lust-blown eyes. Those eyes were something unfamiliar, something (Name) had never seen before. Not even in their most passionate moments, which to his dismay had only been the hidden snogging in the corner of the school library where she could guarantee that none of her siblings were watching.

The hand behind her neck traveled to her shoulder, and she swallowed when he gently pushed her down into the pillows. And she held her breath and watched with bug eyes as he crawled on top of her, positioning himself between her legs, and laying his arms on either side of her face to keep his body from crushing her.

And he stared at her, intense eyes locking with hers as if they were trying to tell her something, to imply something. And she didn't understand, but the tension in the air made her crazy and she longed to snap it like a twig between her fingers.

She let her hand travel from her side, up to the back of his delicate neck. She mimicked the hold he had on her before, and gently pushed him closer so that she could claim his lips with her own

Warmth and relief spread like wildfire in her stomach when Theodore returned her kiss with more eagerness and power than she had ever seen him do before. A sigh of delight escaped her nose, and she basked in the love Theodore provided for her every day, every minute to every second.

Her arms encircled his neck, and she slowly pulled him closer, letting him rest all his weight on her body. He moaned airily into her mouth, and (Name) saw it as an opportunity to let her tongue invade his mouth. She could feel how he melted against her body as she took control, forcing the kiss to become deeper, more sensual as she massaged his tongue with hers.

Theodore didn't know what to do with himself, for he had never experienced someone taking such control over him. Both body and mind were completely devoted to her and he had no longer any wish to think for himself, only to let her lead him through.

Slowly but surely, she slowed the kiss down, and Theodore found himself frowning when she disconnected their lips entirely. Spit collected on her bottom lip and without breaking their intimate eye contact, he leaned down and sucked the liquid off her lip. A sweet, closed-mouth moan echoed in her throat and Theodore felt how his hardness throbbed in his boxers.

"If you only could understand how absurdly amazing you make me feel." He mumbled with lidded eyes.

Her chest was heaving against his bare one, and she looked at him as if he was the reason for all the good in the world and all the good in her life. His skin erupted in flames and he, once again, leaned down although this time connecting his lips with the column of her throat.

A hand buried itself in her locks and she had no choice but to close her eyes as his lips traveled along her neck, at first only planting innocent pecks, letting his rosy lips leave invisible prints on her skin. Before he found the point right under her jaw and sucked.

"Oh, Theo." She simpered as he sucked, licked, and kissed the space, abusing it as a way of showing his love.

Her words made his hand tighten in her hair, and whilst she loved the attention she was receiving, she wanted to have more control. Theodore needed to be the princess for once. The one who would just stand there and accept the kisses and love. So she slowly enclosed her legs around his hips, squeezing him with her thighs as her hand traveled to his hair.

"You're always so good to me, taking care of me. And I love you so, so much." He sighed shakily into her neck, both because of the praise and also because of his crotch that was now pressed up against hers, and he needed almost all of his control to not grind into her and provide to his inextinguishable thirst for her.

"You own me, you own my body and you're the only thing on my mind." Theodore sucked harder on her neck, teeth grazing the blue area.

"And I own you, Theodore." And it was his downfall. He couldn't help himself but let his hips grind into hers and he grunted at the immense pleasure that spread along his stomach. And after that, he couldn't stop. Like he had been cursed, he continued to push himself against her, a secret fantasy of being inside of her, feeling her walls around his cock pushing him to continue.

"Please." He begged." Please let me make love to you." She almost choked on her tongue at his confession, and that accompanied by the pressure of Theodore's hips grinding into her made her mind foggy.

"I would to have you." A breath got caught in her throat as pressure once more ripped through her body. "But I don't want our first to be in the same house as my parents." The movement of his body came to a slow halt, trying to control himself and respect her wishes. A few playfully pecs were placed on her collarbones and a giggle escaped her lips at the tickling of his lips.

He pulled away from her body and met her eyes, intense gaze making her confidence waver and her body heat soar. Just for a moment, she contemplated to let him have her right in her childhood bed. To let him have his way with her. But with the ounce of self-control left in her body, she stayed in her decision with the knowledge it could bring more problems than pleasure. For him, her, and the rest of the family.

A hard kiss on her lips broke her out of the daze, and Theodore gently rolled off her body, settling at her side with him facing her.

"You sure it's alright?" She asked lightly, fingers tracing the shape of his nose. Her eyes did discreetly look down his body lightly gesturing to his crotch. With fingers under her chin, he lifted her face to his again, this time placing a lighter pec on her forehead.

"I'm sure, I'm here with you that's all I need. Nothing more."

"Are sure? Otherwise, you can-"

"I'm sure, never been more sure." With a gentle smile on her lips, she nodded, eyes fluttering shut when Theodore continued with her previous movements, fingers tracing her nose. "Go to sleep."

But she couldn't sleep. It was impossible. Butterflies were racing against her inner organs, in her belly and other places she had never felt the tickling feeling in. Her entire body was buzzing. Just the thought of her making the boy next to her so troubled, in a good way, was thrilling. Because he's Theodore, the attractive, brilliant, and kind Slytherin who everyone wanted to be or to be with. And he chooses her.

The boy next to her shuffled in the bed, body turning so his back faced her. She played as still as possible so he wouldn't notice her being awake, or to wake him for that matter.

But just when she was sure he was sound asleep, he sat up in the bed, throwing his legs over the edge and her heart beat in worry when his head hung lowly into his hands. She was about to lay a comforting hand on his back but he stood up before she had the time.

"Theo?" She asked and he turned around, startled by her voice. "You okay?"

A smile lit his face and he kneeled before her, kissing her lips quickly. "Just going to the bathroom." Even though her room was dark, the moonlight revealed an unmistakable redness on the apples of his cheeks and she looked down to see his problem still present, and once again her body erupted in a buzz.

Before he could walk away, she grabbed his hand, stopping him. He looked at her with a question in his eyes, and she looked away in shyness.

"I can- I can help you if you want?" Her big eyes raked over his face, waiting for an answer while his face displayed a handful of different emotions.

"You don't have to, I don't want to force you." She flushed at his gentleness, but couldn't dismiss the new, lustful edge in his voice.

"I want to help you. Alright? I want you." When he didn't say anything, she tugged his hand towards her, enough so one of his knees met the mattress.

"Do you want me too?" Her voice took a change and her eyes searched in his. As an answer, Theodore grabbed her throat and pulled her into a searing kiss, tongue licking over her lips when he pulled away.

"I want you to, need you, truly." And he was about to go into a second kiss, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"Good. But on one condition." He listened idly, lips kissing on the pad of her finger. "You have to be quiet, at all cost. You can't make a sound, if you do I'll have to stop."

She gently positioned him on his back, brain going ten miles on hour at the newfound confidence, at the newfound domination. He nodded slowly and his eyes were hooded with the lust of anticipation.

Thedore was a naturally dominant person per se. In their relationship, in his life, and in his friend group. With a hand on her back, he guided her the way he wanted, and with the preeminence in his voice, she found it hard to deny him. But now, with his panting chest and pleading puppy dog eyes, she wondered where Theodore went, without complaining of course.

With shaky hands and Theodore's eyes intently on her, she reached for the edge of his underwear, fingers picking at his waistband. Her knees clenched together when Thedore put both his arms behind his head, face shining with confidence. And in the most loving way possible, a small part of her wanted to break it down.

Slowly, she pulled the underwear down, with the help of Theodore raising his hips. When she laid eyes on his crotch, she swallowed and looked at Theodore, who had his lip in his teeth.

As if he could see her hesitation, he gave her a nod. "It's okay, Lovie, you can touch me."

And in pure curiousness, she let the tips of her fingers run up his length, feeling the warmth emitting from his body. A gasp made way from his mouth and he threw his head into the pillow. In fear of believing she hurt him, she pulled back, hand landing on his thigh.

"Theo? Sorry did I hurt you? I didn't mean to." She stressed, massaging his thigh in comfort. But he only shook his head, trying to slow his increased breath.

"No, no don't stop." His voice cracked pitifully as he pleaded, but she wasn't convinced.

"Theo Im not su-"

"Please for the love of Merlin, touch me. I swear I'm going to explode." The doubt was replaced with fire in her entire body. And she did the same movement again, running her fingers up his length.

Once again, a gasp escaped his lips, and a rare, blissful expression covered his face. His eyebrows scrunched upwards and a small smile on his open mouth.

And she wanted more of this reaction, craved it even. So she continued to run her fingertips up and down, biting her lip to hide her smile at his panting and puffing.

"Come on, love, I know you can do more than that." He didn't. But she could do more. She met his eyes, who were intently, expectantly staring into her. Like he was daring her. Holding his eye, she took a loose grip on his cock, doing an experimental stroke.

His eyes snapped to where his body met her hands, and a small, low moan forced itself from his lips. So low she almost missed it, but she's glad she didn't. She forced her thighs together, rocking back and forth as she began to twist her wrist to give Theo relief along with herself.

He only continues to stare at her moving hand, his stomach and thighs flexing with pleasure. And she notices, of course, she does, and lets her free land on the place connecting his pelvis and thigh, slowly massaging it to get him relaxed. It does quite the opposite.

He throws his head back, straight into the pillow. "Fuck." He whispers as one of his hands clenches around the sheet.

Without even meaning to, she speeds up her hand movements, her body reacting automatically to his pleasure. And he bucks into her hand at the new feeling, a groan, louder than before resonated pleasantly in her ear.

"Merlin, shit what the fuck are you doing to me." He moaned desperately, taking satisfaction in her warm palm, in the intense feeling in his pelvis and length. In his entire body. It was like he was high.

She giggled lightly, bashfully continuing her stroking without a notion of how the sound affected him.

An idea formed in her head, a memory of a knowledge Theo himself revealed not long ago at all. She took her other hand, which was stroking his thigh, and gripped it above the hand on his lenght, and let her thumb run over his tip, using a little pressure

And Theodore let out a moan, a borderline whine. And it didn't stop.

She continued the abuse on his tip, along with rapid strokes of his length, and different types of whines, groans and moans left him, one after one. And they were loud, too loud.

"Shhh, Theo you need to quiet down." Deep down she knew he wouldn't, especially with her continued stimulation of his cock.

"Can't- Fuck. I can't, I can't." He cried head tilted down to take a peek at her hands. Bad Idea as his length throbbed in her hands, sending him into a new fit of moans.

So she stopped. Only as an attempt to quiet him.

But it left him unsatisfied and searching for stimulation, violently continuing to buck his hips for any kind of friction, sounds of complaint echoing in the room.

"Theo you said you could be quiet, so be quiet!" She whisper-yelled desperately, pushing his hips to still with one of her hands. But he just couldn't be quiet.

Now, he was instead whining over the lack of stimulation, thrashing his head from side to side at the lost feeling.

"Theo for the love of good shut up." At the sudden stern tone, he shut his mouth and turned to her, big puppy dog eyes staring at her with admiration.

They sat quietly as she listened after a single sound. But luckily, there was none. And she could let her shoulders relax.

"Good job Theo." She smiled, and pecked his lips, him chasing after her when she sat straight again.

The pace of her hands picked up again, and Theodore tried his utmost to keep his sounds down. But it was so difficult.

And he thought he would be able to hold himself quiet until her hands sped up greatly.

She watched with awe in her eyes as his eyes rolled back into his head, his hips vigorously meeting her wrist as he fucked her hand, moans of her name and whined curses fleeing his pink lips.

"Fuck. I th-think." His head arched into the mattress, interrupting his sentence with a moan. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna-im-" She panicked as his voice took a turn for the loudest, and without thinking she slapped her hand over his mouth, although with a force that pushed his head further into the pillow.

His entire body twitched violently at the harsh gesture, and his eyelashes fluttered when white-hot pleasure overtook his entire life.

Without meaning to, he threw his hand over the one covering his mouth, gripping it tight as the other squeezed her thigh in a bruising grip. And he came with a long, guttural moan, straight into her hand as she continued to stroke him through his high. And she didn't stop, not until his body had stopped convulsing completely.

When he was done, his chest was heaving as he chipped for air, and she placed a concerned and clean hand on his chest, rubbing it slowly.

"You need to slow your breathing, don't need you to faint on me after that." He nodded lightly, head too heavy for anything else. He took her hand and bullied his breathing to a normal pace, even if it burned his lungs.

He forced his eyelids open, and her body, once again, flushed at the half-lidded look he gave her. As if she hung the moon and stars for him.

But, what he didn't know was she had a last trick up her sleeve. She raised her dirty hand to his lips and slowly and carefully licked every bit of him left on her hand.

Theodore let out a small gasp, and his handanded on her thigh massaging it to the erotic picture, fighting another hard-on with his life.

She leaned down and was about to connect her tongue to his lower abdomen, ready to lick the cum of his godly body. But she only had time to graze him before he took her cheeks in his hands, squeezing them while lifting her head in distress

"No no no!" He stressed, and she started at him with, big, questioning eyes." Fuck. I love you, but you're gonna get yourself another piece of trouble if I let you continue." A laugh of surprise jumped in her chest, looking down at her lap, her body warm and humble.

"Youre seriously amazing, you know that right." He breathed out, a smile in his voice. And a chuckle bumbled in her throat, head hazy with bliss.

She kissed his palm. "And I love you, lovie."

-----

So... That happened

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buryustogether · 2 years ago

Text

lilac - chapter 3

miguel o’hara x f!reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn’t have the time anymore. good thing both miguel o’hara and spiderman do.

wc: 5.2k

tags/warnings: domestic dispute, unhappy relationship, pining, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of violence, allusions to suicide, mentions of strip clubs

author’s note: got a lil carried away with my emotions for this one ngl

Your pink pen pressed harshly down on the science quiz you were grading, smearing a pit of the sparkly ink as the searing noise of an electric guitar being tuned submerged your little apartment from the floors to the ceilings. You glared up from beneath your brows, a predator chained just inches from her prey, as Ferris and his band of four barked and howled between themselves in your living room. From your perch at the tiny dining table, you watched them, your knuckles paling around your pen. They had moved the furniture around to make room for their equipment, shoved your couch, your armchair, your coffee table - fuck, even your television stand - against the walls so that they could spread out and practice for a gig the drummer had managed to score; probably by going down on the manager of the place, but you’d never say that out loud.

Unless they provoked you - which, with every ticking, prolonged minute that passed, you were getting closer and closer to your inclined tipping point.

Sniffing quietly, you shook your head and tried to go back to grading your quizzes. So far, your class had done a fairly good job. A few percentages below eighty, but not many. No matter what score they got, however, you were sure to place a sticker on the corner of the page. Of course, as you had expected, Gabriella O’Hara’s score was a perfect hundred. A small smile graced the corner of your lips. She was a bright kid, you’d give her that. While she needed a little extra help in mathematics from time to time, she practically excelled in every other subject. You scribbled out a little note praising her for a job well done before beginning to move on to your other papers.

From the living room, another glass-shattering, skin-crawling shriek was raised from Ferris’ guitar. You twitched in your seat, subtly raising your eyes to watch the band. Your boyfriend was downing his second beer of the day, despite it being barely eleven in the morning, and he had his feet propped up on some chick’s - the new keyboard player, because the last one stormed out of the group after realizing what a bunch of asswipes they were - and idly strummed a lazy medley on the taut strings of his guitar. It was hooked up to the speaker, so every note that he twanged out was amplified tenfold.

Downstairs, your neighbor knocked against their ceiling with a broom. Telling you all to shut the fuck up, no doubt.

Taking a deep breath, you put on your best smile - which looked more like a grimace, actually - and cleared your throat. “Babe,” you said tightly, drawing Ferris’ attention away from the keyboard player. He regarded you with a roll of his head and hand on the strings to stop the vibrations. “Maybe it’s time to pack it up. You’ve been…” You hesitated. “Practicing for almost two hours now. Why don’t you save some of the music for the paying customers tomorrow instead of the neighbors?”

To your chagrin, like he was dumping fuel across the little flame that had flickered to life in your chest, he shrugged a shoulder and went back to his guitar and the girl across from him. “We’ll leave when we’re done,” he replied nonchalantly, eyes never meeting yours again. “Still got some more songs to run through.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed and went back to your work. “You look real fucking busy.”

“If you’re so tired of listening to us,” your boyfriend snapped suddenly, “why don’t you find somewhere else to go? This is my place too, you know.” He exhaled a venomous sigh and downed another swig from his bottle. “Always on my ass.”

By now, the rest of the apartment had gone silent. The other band members glanced between the pair of you, movements suddenly stiff with tension they had no idea how to release. It felt like no matter what they did, it would light the fuse on either one of you.

Feeling your cheeks heat and your palms become sticky with embarrassment, you swallowed thick and nodded your head slowly. Then you stood, began to gather your papers, and stuffed them into your purse.

“Hey,” said the band’s drummer, a pudgy guy with thick lenses that had, actually, always been nice to you despite their leader’s obvious intentions, “if you need us to clear out, we can. We can find another place to set up where we’re not bothering you.”

You released a short huff, sounding more akin to a snarl than anything else. It seemed your judgment in men really was shit; you’d chosen the wrong fucking band member. “That’s okay,” you spat as you tugged on your shoes and checked that you had your keys. The drummer’s face flashed with guilt and you felt bad for a moment, but then your eyes flickered to where Ferris had wandered into the kitchen to fetch himself another drink. Like a raging wildfire, the flames in your ribcage roared and seared your insides, making them feel like you’d implode upon yourself if you stayed here - in your own damn home - any longer. “I’ll go somewhere else.”

With that you exited your apartment and slammed the door behind you, not stopping your frantic escape from Ferris’ snarls and rolling eyes until you hit the street down below. Before you on the road, traffic moved at a sluggish pace. Horns blared and street lights flickered. Shop fronts gleamed in the sunlight and bells over doors jingled. As you took a long, deep inhale that granted your lungs a wave of fresh air and your eyes with a certain wetness in the corners, you realized your crumbling relationship with your boyfriend was such a trivial little thing in this city. Nothing was going to stop, halt in its tracks, just because your world was falling apart.

Life went on. There was nothing you could do to stop that.

Plopping yourself down on the bus stop bench, you placed your head in your hands and tried to keep yourself from crying anymore. You couldn’t let anyone else see you cry, because what if they did, and they turned out to be like Ferris? Told you that you were being dramatic, that you needed to pull yourself together and be a girl? Fuck, you didn’t think you could handle someone else telling you that. You didn’t need anyone else against you; it already felt like the entire world was.

What you needed, desperately, terribly, pleadingly, was someone else in your corner.

In your pocket, your phone chimed with an incoming text. Wiping away the tears sitting heavy against your lids, you pulled it out. It was an unknown number; your cyber security app had blurred the message, waiting until you accepted to see it. You swiped on the blurred screen, then clicked open the message.

Hi, it’s Miguel O’Hara. I hate to cross any lines here, but Gabriella is having a hard time understanding the homework assigned for this weekend. I tried to help, but it’s beyond me. Some sorry excuse for a geneticist I am, right? Anyway, I was texting to ask if you’d be able to meet us somewhere today and help Bri. I was thinking the public library? We’re going to be headed to the park afterward for soccer practice… you’re welcome to come along. She’s eager to show you a new trick she learned yesterday. Again, excuse my forwardness. We understand if you’re not available. :)

You sniffled slightly, rereading the text over and over again, trying to stuff down the fluttering feeling arising past the flames inside you. Your head snapped up and you were on your feet in less than a moment, hailing the first taxi that passed you. When you climbed inside, the driver asked you where to.

“The public library,” you said, and managed a smile at him in the mirror.

Half an hour later, you sat at a desk in the middle of the study section of the New York Public Library, already having drawn out fresh sketches and examples of the mathematics homework you had assigned for this weekend. Your foot bounced with anticipation under the table, and you found yourself constantly glancing over your shoulder at the wide, arched doorway that let into the private section.

You’d tutored students outside of class before, so you shouldn’t have been so excited. You’d met with them in diners and cheap restaurants, outdoor pavilions when the weather allowed, hell - you’d even sat with them outside their cramped apartment buildings on overturned milk crates and used cardboard as a back for the worksheets while their parents were busy working three jobs and balancing five other kids on their hips at the same time. You weren’t one to judge; you knew how hard it was out here for some people. You were a teacher; it was your job to love and nurture and teach your kids, no matter who they were or where they came from.

So you shouldn’t have been this excited to tutor one of your students. Even if she did have a smoking hot dad.

Small, quick-paced footsteps - like thunderclaps along the ground in the nearly-silent room - pricked your ears and turned your attention to the doorway. A wide, easy grin broke across your lips as you spied Gabriella breaking away from her father’s side to rush toward you and your table. In her arms she carried a wrapped bouquet of flowers. When she reached where you had risen from your seat, she pressed her face into your belly in lieu of a hug.

“Hi, Miss Y/N,” she said, rather loudly, then presented the flowers like they were sterling silver encrusted with diamonds and jewels unimaginable. An ear-to-ear smile stretched from one of her ears to the other. “These are for you.”

Miguel arrived behind her, a backpack slung over his shoulder and a gentle grin of greeting gracing his beautiful face. He tilted his head at you for a moment, then ruffled his daughter’s hair and said, “What are they for?”

“A thank you,” Gabriella rushed to say as you accepted the bouquet. “For coming to help me.”

You tried to squash the butterflies that fluttered through your stomach when he smiled at you, instead pushing your focus to the flowers clutched to your chest. They were fresh blooms, a collection filled with pinks and purples and a few yellows here and there. “Well, thank you so much, sweetheart,” you said as she rounded the table to go and sit by her father. “They’re beautiful.” You took your seat again and carefully set the gift beside your purse. “And you don’t have to thank me. I was already out today anyhow, so it wasn’t any trouble.”

“Really?” said Miguel. He pulled the bag from over his shoulder and gave it to Gabriella for her to begin pulling her schoolwork out. He quirked one of his thick brows, his sad-looking eyes meeting yours. Jolts of excitement, and pleasure, and adoration went sprawling down your spine all at once, like back to back shocks of raw, untamed electricity. “I figured you would have been staying in during a tourist weekend like this.”

You wanted so badly to tell him just what you were doing out, why you weren’t at home enjoying your two days of free time between your two jobs - one that required every bit of your soul and heart during the day, and another that required every bit of your body during the night. You wanted horrendously to confide in him the troubles plaguing you like an illness only he could cure you from, wanted him to secure those thick, sinewy arms of his around your form and hold you tight, assure you in that husky tone that everything would be alright.

But instead, all you said was, “Can’t let tourists drive us locals from our stomping grounds, can we, Mister O’Hara?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, his eyes stuck upon your form even after you’d pulled your attention to the worksheet Gabriella had pulled out.

For a long while, the three of you sat at that table in the library. You taught Gabriella the maths lesson over again as many times as she needed it, helped her with the more challenging problems on the worksheet, then made up a few on the spot to give her for the extra practice. You even tilted around your textbook so that Miguel could see it and gave him a rundown of the next few lessons so that he could help her the following week, should she need it.

It was perhaps an hour or so later when you sat back in your chair, watching as your student set to work on the few practice problems you’d given her. You shut your eyes for a moment, exhaling a long breath, and allowing your brain to shut off for a moment. You’d succeeding in getting Ferris and his stupid, stubborn fucking attitude off your mind for a time, but now you were faced with the realization that sometime today, you’d have to go back home. You’d have to see him again, most likely get into another argument that would lead to one of you sleeping on the couch the next couple evenings.

Most likely you.

“How are you doing?” came Miguel’s voice from across the table.

You thought for a moment he was speaking to his daughter, looking over her work, but when no reply came, you opened your eyes and realized he was talking to you. You blinked a few times, watching as he smirked kindly and crossed his arms over the table. Fuck, he was so easy to look at. He was wearing a t-shirt against the sunny day today, giving you a generous view of the muscles in his arms. They sloped down to his elbows, and further still to wrists wrapped in Gabriella-made friendship bracelets, to large, wide hands that were callused at the fingers and bruised at the knuckles. You wondered briefly if he boxed during his workouts.

Sliding your hand up your face, you gave him a tired smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Despite only speaking to one another a few minutes every time at pick up and drop off, you felt you could talk to him better than even the girls at your nighttime job. “I’m alright,” you said, then added, “Just… tired, is all. Lots on my plate right now. Work, stuff at home, the whole ‘masked vigilante swinging around the city’ thing. Well… you know how it is.”

It was not the last detail that seemed to faze him. It was the second. “Is everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly, like that of a curious puppy. The lines beneath his eyes deepened a bit, the untamed hair atop his head slipped to his temple. “Sorry if I’m overstepping a boundary, or anything like that. I just -”

“No, you’re alright.” You reached out to finger at a petal on one of the flowers in the bouquet, fondly brushing the delicate thing as if it would disintegrate if you handled it any rougher. His eyes followed your movements deftly. “And, everything’s… okay. Sort of… okay.” You sighed and pulled away from the flower, instead opting to rub at your temples. “Just drives me out sometimes, you know? Everything… happening in those walls. Sometimes it gets too much.”

“You’re never out on the streets, are you?” Suddenly his gaze had turned serious and stony, his mouth set into a hard line across his chiseled expression.

You swallowed thick, feeling the dropped baritone of his voice hit the bottom of your belly and head south to your core. You shifted slightly in your seat, crossing your legs over one another to mask the subtle movement. “No, never.” Forcing yourself to chuckle, you dropped a hand to the desk. “You don’t have to worry about me, Mister O’Hara. I’m just fine.”

Before you realized what was happening, Miguel had reached out to brush his long, thick fingers over your knuckles. Your skin was suddenly alight with a blaze you didn’t even know existed. He leaned forward slightly across the table, lowering his voice so that only you heard it in the cage between your ribs. “It’s alright to ask for help, you know,” he murmured quietly. You were caught in his gaze, unable to pull yourself away. “If you ever need something, some place to stay… our door is open.”

Your tongue had ceased its ability to work, your heart its ability to beat properly. You could only stare at him, wide-eyed, as he settled back in his chair. Miguel O’Hara had just offered you his home. Fuck - he knew. He had to have known. Maybe he could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice when you whispered; maybe it trembled too much. Or maybe he could just sense it, feel it from the bottomless pit in your soul screaming out for someone to pull it back into the daylight.

Just when you trusted yourself to speak again, both your and Miguel’s phones alerted at the same time. Across the study section, other devices went off, as well. Simultaneously, you pulled out your cells and read the messages scrawled across the screens.

“Jesus,” you muttered upon scanning the message. A kidnapping had just taken place not a block from the library. Car details and plate numbers were attached, along with an urging for anyone with information to call the authorities. “This city gets worse every day.”

Miguel glanced up at your words, hesitated, then looked down at Gabriella. She was still busy with her work, tongue stuck out gently between her pink lips. You sensed him tense from across the table.

“...Miguel?” you asked, tentative to use his first name. “Is everything okay?”

After a short, brief moment, he seemed to make up his mind about something. He stood from his chair so abruptly that it squealed softly against the tile floor, throwing the backpack over his shoulder and rounding the table. “Excuse me just a second,” he said, already heading toward the doorway. “I have to make a call. Ten minutes, tops.” Then he was gone, jogging too quickly and hurriedly to be making a phone call - or so you thought. You wanted direly to follow him, see what he was doing, but you couldn’t. You had your student to take care of.

Inhaling shortly, you turned to Gabriella only to find her staring at the doorway her father had disappeared through. You were quick to find something to change the subject. “These flowers are so pretty,” you told her and nudged the bouquet slightly. She met your eyes, your gentle smile, and it seemed Miguel’s sudden absence was wiped from her mind. So was the inner workings of a nine year old.

“I got to pick them out,” she said proudly, then went back to her worksheet. “But it was Daddy’s idea to get them for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. You did your best to maintain your smile, trying not to grasp at your chest and stop the oncoming heart attack making its way through your systems. It had been Miguel to get the flowers? “Yeah?” you said in a small voice.

Oblivious to your strained tone and the excited bouncing of your leg under the table, the little girl nodded and hummed. “Uh-huh. He like-likes you. He told me so.”

Holy fucking goddamn son of a bitch.

You cleared your throat because you knew if you talked about this any longer, you would explode into a little cloud of confetti. Then you’d never even get to see him again, look at him in this new light because fuck, was it a new light. It was a new light you could dance under, twirl and sing and jump under, because no one was going to judge you anymore, and even better, now you could invite him to be under it with you. And you knew you just might have a chance of him saying yes.

And fuck, what a dance that would be.

“Are you excited for the field trip to Alchemax on Tuesday?” you asked her, recalling the months it had taken Washington Elementary’s principal to get permission to bring classes there. She had insisted it was an important place for them to visit, considering all the work they were doing as of late. You guessed your suggestion for a trip to the zoo had been vetoed. “Your dad works there. Maybe we’ll see him. You can brag to all your friends that he’s a fancy scientist.”

“Maybe,” she said, scratching out a wrong answer on her paper. “He works on the seventh floor. I’ve seen his work badge thing. We probably won’t be able to go up there.”

“Here’s hoping we can,” you said to yourself beneath your breath.

Ten minutes passed since Miguel’s sudden disappearance, and then another. Thirty minutes was just approaching, as was the beginnings of sundown, before you sensed him approaching you from behind. Turning in your chair, the first thing you noticed was that he was out of breath, sweating at his temples and down his neck slightly. God, he looked good like that. But then your rational side kicked in. Had he been running somewhere?

“I think that’s enough homework for today,” he said as he reached the table and ruffled Gabriella’s hair again. She batted his hand away, but nonetheless began to pack up her things. As she did so, he switched his gaze to yours, tilting his head in that way he did. “We’re going to head to the park, kick a ball around for a while. You’re welcome to join us, if you like.”

Numbly, because now that you knew he not only liked you, but like-liked you, you heard yourself accept and follow them out the doors of the library and onto the street. The deep purple sky felt a bit brighter than before, and the steps you took together, side by side, seemed a little closer than necessary. The sidewalks were cramped, sure, but not enough so that your hands needed to brush every few seconds. Not enough so that your shoulders bumped when you stepped off curbs to cross roads.

The park was quiet this time of day, occupied only by a few elderly couples leaning against walking canes and teenagers out past their curfews sprawled out on benches making out like they knew they were going to die tomorrow.

How long had it been since you had kissed Ferris? The saddest part of you knew that you couldn’t recall.

For hours, you sat on the sweet-smelling grass of the park’s lawn and watched Miguel and Gabriella scrimmage, kicking around a ball worn by years of scuff marks and green stains from fields. The breeze blew their matching hair this way and that, the dying sunlight illuminated their identical smiles as they round about one another in only a way a parent and a child could know one another. You cheered when either scored a goal. You laughed when they called one another names. And when they urged you to come join, even though the night was throwing itself over the sky and the stars were beginning to wink down at the park, you got to your feet and played.

You realized, through your aching laughter and the grass stains on your knees, that you hadn’t been this happy in a very, very long time.

That night, after you had wished Miguel and Gabriella a goodnight and walked home, after you had found Ferris crashed out in bed and the dishes still in the fucking sink, you found yourself sitting on the rooftop of your apartment building. It wasn’t quite silent up here, not with the helicopter chopping in the distance, or the occasional honk of a car down below, or the dog barking three stories down, but it was better than facing the quiet of your own home. You knew you would go mad in between those damned four walls, listening to your boyfriend snore and the clock in the kitchen tick and the floorboard creak when you walked to the bathroom.

You couldn’t face the quiet, not after the wonderful, deafening, blaring joy of this afternoon.

You let your legs dangle off the edge of the rooftop, sitting back on your hands and staring at the glaring screen of your phone. Your thumb ached slightly from scrolling through anything and everything you could find to keep yourself distracted. The newest clean energy replacement from Alchemax. The latest from politics. The child that had been kidnapped this afternoon, now home and safe, thanks to Spiderman snatching the kid from the backseat before plowing the speeding car with the kidnapper into a metal gate.

There came the soft, muted noise of a weight landing on the power box on the rooftop behind you, and you whipped around to find a familiar - but no less startling - red and blue figure sitting perched on the metal edge. Spiderman tilted his head at you, balanced on the balls of his feet despite the hulking frame of his muscles.

“Just came to check up on you after the other day,” he said through the mask. His eye lenses moved as his eyes roamed your figure. “Didn’t know you were this far gone.”

Clicking your phone off anxiously, feeling your heart thunder in your ears, you gave a little laugh and looked down at the drop beneath your feet. “I think if I was ready to end it,” you joked in return, “I’d go for something a little less traumatizing for pedestrians.”

Spiderman was still for a moment. Then he extended his wrist, and a string of web shot across the rooftop to stick to the space on the lip beside you. He used it to yank himself across the tarmac of the roof, landing again on the balls of his feet on the edge. He shifted himself, resting his forearms overink his thighs, and turned his masked gaze to the city before you both. Golden lights twinkled from skyscrapers and apartments and office buildings, creating a constellation of life between windows. The night air was crisper up here - as crisp as it could get, what with the smog from arsonist fires and churning factories and gas emissions - and the stars seemed to shine just a touch brighter.

“So… how are you doing?” the vigilante asked, keeping his gaze on New York. “After the robbery, I mean. Something like that, it can… stay with you.”

There came a fluttering in your heart. But rather than express such a sensation, because you had every right to be wary about giving yourself away anymore, you said, “It wouldn’t be the first thing like that to happen to me. And I’m sure it won’t be the last.” You lifted a hand to the star-lit city, crowded to the rim with life and hatred and love. “We’re in New York. What more can you expect from a city like this?”

For a long while, neither of you said anything more. It was strange being so close to the man everyone had been talking about for the couple weeks he’d been active - so close you could lean right over and pull that mask off. But you kept your distance.

Spiderman took a breath and said, “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “As if I typically sleep at this time anyway.” Then you turned to face him again, locking your ankles together over the edge of the rooftop. The breeze swayed your hair back and forth, like you were suspended underwater. The tension in your lungs certainly felt that way. “Did you enjoy the show the other night?”

He was still for a moment. For two. Then he met your gaze through his mask, his eye lenses narrowing. Even through the cover that hid his face, the heat of his eyes scorched holes through you. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Feeling slightly bolder than you had a moment ago, you lolled your head at him. “You know what I mean.” You sniffed, leaning back on your hands. “Did you follow me? Or was it just a coincidence that Spiderman showed up to my club the day he saved my ass?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“...Sure.” You felt a flutter of embarrassment within you, of doubt and guilt. What if that hadn’t been Spiderman that night at The Menagerie? What if it was some other guy, with some other scar on his collarbone, and you had gotten it all wrong? Despite your sudden worry, you refused to let your confidence waver. “So… do you make it a habit of checking up on every person you help?”

For the first time, you watched and listened as he cracked a smile and chuckled. The lenses over his eyes narrowed as his cheeks rose and his mouth spread into a smirk. You watched the bit of mask over his lips stretch. “You got me there,” he drawled in that low, husky tone of his that made you cross your legs a bit tighter, squeeze your thighs tighter. “Just… couldn’t really get you off my mind. You’ve got courage, saying no to that guy. That’s admirable.”

You felt your cheeks flush. Spiderman? Calling you brave? What an ironic sense of humor the universe had.

“I guess someone has to stand up and say no,” you murmured into the breeze.

“Yeah. Someone has to.”

Moments turned into seconds, and those turned into minutes. You almost wished you could stay like this forever; here, on the rooftop with Spiderman, with the breeze rustling your hair and the car horns beeping and the rest of the world forgotten.

But all too soon, it was over.

Spiderman rose to his full height in a seamless transition, turning his head to face the street away from you. “Should get back now,” he said, then switched his gaze down to you. You wondered, behind that mask, what color his eyes were. “Sure you’re not going to jump?”

You felt yourself smile. “Promise, Spiderman.” You watched as he nodded his head, then prepared to catapult himself off the building and swing onto the next one. Before he could, however, you called out. “And hey,” you said, drawing his attention, “if you ever drop by the club again, ask for the Monarch.”

He stared at you for the longest moment. Then he turned, stepped off the lip of the rooftop, and disappeared.

You didn’t bother leaning over, watching him spring a web from his wrist to flip through the air and parade down the street above the cars and streetlights. Instead you looked back to the city’s skyline far above yourself, silhouettes of buildings framed by a rich violet horizon.

Perhaps one day, you would see what it looked like without all this smog and the army of dark clouds hanging over it.

But for now, you were content with watching it darken until it was nothing but black and purple.

tags: @mooomeadows @twentysomethingwereyote @screamforyani @fangirlreice7 @axdjelx @ornamentalnecromancy @faust-pda @ilikethemoon28 @mrm-pachypoda @wadafrick @natthernandez @bakgoktski @soupsexsunsalutationsss @roxannarichie @lovagirlxxx @soggyeyeballsss @yoyoyoyoyo55555 @sophipet @quantii @lavnderluv @cookiezxx @euphorica @its-a-polyglot @nicalysm @maxi-ride @exzidss @crappwr0m @femme-is-dead

(strike through means blog could not be tagged)

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #atsv miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara atsv #atsv #across the spider verse spoilers #atsv x reader #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #spiderman atsv #spiderman 2099

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whotfelsewantedtobelynnyx · 4 months ago

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Chat, I regret to inform you that I have added a new hyperfixation…so…

Agatha All Along Incorrect Quotes!

Alice: Hold the fuck up.

Also Alice, crawling into Lilia’s lap: It’s me. I’m the fuck up. Hold me.

Rio: I have an idea!

Jen: No murder.

Rio, sighing petulantly: I no longer have an idea.

Lilia: I have a bad feeling about this…

Agatha: What do you mean?

Alice: Don’t you ever get that little voice in the back of your head that tells you if something is going to get you in trouble?

Agatha: No.

Jen: That actually explains so much.

Lilia: As far back as I can remember, I’ve always had this little voice in my head telling me to “live it up today, because there’s not gonna be a lot of tomorrows”.

Agatha: You do realize there’s medication designed to get rid of those kinds of voices, right?

Teen: A bird flew in through my window and I’m trying to befriend it.

*later*

Agatha: Why don’t you quit bothering me and go talk to your bird friend?

Teen: Matthew and I are not speaking at the moment.

*the coven, huddling together behind a makeshift shelter to shield themselves from repeated gunshots*

Alice, hastily shoving the others behind her so she can return fire: Agatha, do you have any idea who would want to shoot you?!

Agatha, squashed between Jen and Rio: Many people want to shoot me. I take great pride in that!

Jen, glaring at the group as she hands over bail money:

Alice, tapping her shoulder: What about Teen?

Jen, glaring more: I’ve got to bail him out too? Where’s Agatha?

Teen: No one called her. We used Lilia’s phone call to call Alice and Rio’s to call you. Then Rio used my phone call to vote for American Idol.

Rio: :)

Jen: Rio isn’t answering her phone.

Agatha: Here, I’ll try.

Jen: Alice and I have tried six times each, what makes you think that-

Rio, picking up on the first ring: Hey, sweetheart.

Agatha: The ends always justify the means!

Jen: Do you know who said that?

Agatha: Was it Oprah or someone nice and great like that?

Jen: It was Machiavelli. A decidedly non-Oprah like person.

Jen: I bet you didn’t even finish the thing I asked you to get done!

Agatha: For your information, I most certainly did! Got it done last night!

Teen, whispering to Agatha: You didn’t get it done, did you?

Agatha, whispering back: I don’t even know what she’s talking about.

Lilia: I am at a loss for words!

Teen, glancing at the camera like his mom like he’s on The Office: Despite being lost for words, Lilia yelled at us for the next 45 minutes.

Agatha, carrying Señor Scratchy out of the room:

Señor Scratchy: *snuggles under her chin*

Agatha, kissing his head: You are being punished. Please stop being adorable. I love you.

Teen: I got a trampoline tent for summer sleepovers!

Jen, whispering to the other adult witches: …think of all the sex.

Alice: There are two types of people.

Rio: If you wanted to eat someone, you could put a fire under it and slowly roast them :)

Lilia: …three. Three types of people.

Jen, cautiously: I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before, but…Teen, you are a little crazy.

Teen: Aren’t we all a little crazy here, Jen?

Jen: No, I mean you’re aging-ballerina, child-chess-prodigy, professional magician kind of crazy.

Teen: It’s my mom’s fault. You know, we come from a Jewish family, but she used to tell me the reason Santa didn’t come was because my room was too dirty.

Rio: I’ve come looking for trouble. And if I can’t find trouble, I WILL create some.

Alice: Do you trust me?

Lilia, smiling proudly at her: Yes.

Alice, who has been completely panicking: Wait, what? Why?!

Agatha, awkwardly glancing around for help: Er…Alice, I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know what to say to people who are crying. So I’m just gonna hope that the tone of my voice makes you think I do, okay, sweetie?

Alice, sniffling: …thanks, Agatha.

Agatha, patting her on the back with a bit too much enthusiasm: No problem, kid.

Lilia: I told Agatha about it weeks ago!

Teen: She WHAT?

Agatha: What??? Lilia says insane shit all the time, how was I supposed to know this one was true?!

Lilia: Bank accounts are a sham created by the shadow government!

Agatha: SEE?!

BONUS:

Wanda, watching from the afterlife: so…when exactly do kids grow out of that whole emo, rebellious stage?

Lorna, shrugging: I don’t know. Alice is still in it.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #lilia calderu #jennifer kale #alice wu gulliver #teen agatha all along #billy kaplan #señor scratchy #agatha all along spoilers #Agatha all along incorrect quotes #alice “mommy issues” wu gulliver #agathario #we love our dangerous lesbians #we were robbed of alice getting to use her ex cop skills and I’m salty about it #agatha is a problem child #rio is a menace to society #they left her in jail #she broke out #I think I’m funny #found family #mentions of wanda maximoff and lorna wu #alice needs a damn hug #and so does teen (I can’t call him billy quite yet I don’t know why)#lilia is the friend-turned-mother-figure that alice and teen both desperately need (sorry agatha you don’t count right now)#tw: sex jokes #tw: violence jokes #really just tw: rio vidal #sometimes family is a traumatized teen; the stressed witch he designated as his pseudo mom; her psycho ex wife; her mlm friend;#a reluctant nepo baby with depression; and the crazy psychic grandma they found on the side of the road

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bunnylovesani · 11 months ago

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He Was a Boy, She Was a Girl

Summary: Sam has never been the most reliable neighbour- but will he have your back when the opportunity arises?

Content warnings: Fluff with the tiniest bit of smut at the end

WC: 2.4k

Sam Monroe was nothing if not an asshole. If the mailman mistakenly delivered only one newspaper, he would rush out to make sure he was the first to get it. If you were studying and asked him to turn the music down, he’d crank it up to full volume until the walls vibrated. The one time you were sick and couldn’t wheel the garbage out to the end of the road, he laughed at your plea for help, kicking the piled-up bin on his way out. What’s more, he came over again later just to complain about the smell while you answered the door wrapped up in your duvet, sniffling through your painfully reddened nose.

There was no doubt whatsoever that Sam was a self-centred, lazy, abrasive boy. You’d learned long ago that if you wanted something done, he was not the neighbour to ask. So why were you so obsessed with him?

Maybe it was his steely cold good looks or the way he endlessly teased you that got you hooked but one thing was certain- he would never like someone like you.

Or at least that’s what you thought. Though the bravado he put on was impressively convincing, behind the layers of angst and attitude was a boy who had been smitten with you for years. He’d observed you closely since you were kids; your bedroom windows were parallel to each other and you weren’t too fond of closing your curtains. How could he not fall for you when you left taped-up paper notes for him on the glass, signing every message off with a heart? He’d roll his eyes and shut the blinds in response but a smile would creep up on his face once he was out of sight.

That’s just the way you were, tooth-rottingly sweet and resiliently kind despite his many attempts to enforce a distance between you. But you gave your kindness out to everyone- he could tell by the way you chirped “Good morning!” to the whole street and the wide grin that was always plastered on your angelic face.

Yes, it was clear as day that your brightness was not reserved for him, which is why he was decidedly careful not to mistake your warm-hearted nature for something more.

He didn’t see the way you baked your cookies just for him, swapping out the chocolate chips for raisins because you knew he preferred those even though you couldn’t stand them. He didn’t know that your beaming smile was only there because he’d crawled out of his room long enough for you to catch a glimpse of him that day. Just like you didn’t know that there was no smell coming from the bins that day, he just needed an excuse to see you were okay.

“Sam! Come on, open the door. I know you’re in there.” You sighed, tapping your foot impatiently outside his house.

“What?” He huffed, opening up with half-lidded eyes and his usual boorish demeanour.

“There you are, I’ve been knocking for all of ten minutes. Brad needs a flat nut tool for his guitar and I thought it sounded like something you’d have.”

“Brad?” He raised his eyebrow. “That Neanderthal has taken up playing?”

“He wants to be a guitar tech.” You chewed on your bottom lip, his scrutinising glare piercing into you.

“And he can’t buy his own tools?” Sam turned around and walked off into his room with you trailing closely behind.

“He says he forgot to buy this one.” You shrug.

“Well too bad, I’m not loaning my best tool to a guy that forgets to turn up to his own finals exam.”

“That was one time!” You defended him though you weren’t entirely sure why.

“One time too many.” He lands back into his unmade bed with a soft thud. “You know he wants to fuck you, right?”

“Brad? No way.” You shake your head fervently.

“Oh, yes. He’s pretending to be your friend, taking you out to all these parties, just waiting for an opportunity for you to let your guard down.”

“You’re too paranoid, Sam. I mean, honestly. Not every guy wants to get in my pants. I mean, you should know. You can barely tolerate me.” You chuckle mirthlessly, hoping in vain that he would refute your claim.

“Yeah. I suppose.” He clears his throat and sinks deeper into his duvet, awkward energy filling the air.

“Well, I’ll be on my way. Sorry for bothering you.” You turn on your heel.

“Bye.” He grunts as you make your way out of the house.

In hindsight, what you’d asked of him was embarrassingly silly and you knew he’d never agree- but you would take any excuse to talk to him, even if the conversation was uncomfortable.

As you strolled the few steps it took to reach your home next door, you saw Brad standing by your porch.

“Hey there, gorgeous.” He smirked, opening his arms to pull you in for a hug.

“Brad?” You hugged back confusedly. “What are you doing here?”

“Do I need a reason to see a friend?” He quipped disingenuously.

“Uh, I guess not. I asked Sam about the flat nut but he doesn’t have one.” Your gaze wandered to Sam’s bedroom window, which faced out to your porch.

“The what? Oh, that. Ah man, that really sucks!” He slapped his leg insincerely.

“Yeah…I should be going now, thanks for stopping by.” You try to shake him off but he steps in front of the door before you can enter.

“Woah, woah, wait. Saying bye so soon? But I came all this way.” He cocks his head and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“That’s why you should’ve called first.” You try to sidestep but he grips his broad hands on your shoulders, holding you in place.

“Don’t be rude.” He warns, beady eyes darkening.

“Get your hands off me!” You slap him across the face and wriggle out of his grasp, pushing him aside to run into the house. You slam the door shut, locking every bolt and key you have before peering out the peephole to ensure he’d left; he trudged down the porch muttering curses under his breath until he was out of view. Sliding your back down the door and bringing your knees close, you exhaled a shaky breath. Sam was right.

“Hey, hold up!” Sam shouted as he ran out of his front door to catch up with Brad, who had just passed his front yard.

“The hell do you want?” He grumbled, stopping for a moment to observe the scrawny, pale specimen marching towards him. “I don’t actually need the damn flat nut.”

“Oh, this isn’t about the tool.” He chuckled, giving himself no time to think about how much taller or broader his opponent was before his arm reared back and he punched Brad square in the jaw, knocking him down to the concrete pavement.

“You come near her again, I swear to God. I’ll show you what flat nuts look like.” Sam spat, enraged by what he’d seen unfold through his window.

“The hero act is adorable. It really is.” Brad wheezed. “But she’ll never want you.”

“If you so much as look at her again, I will put you in the fucking ground.” Sam recoiled venomously, adrenaline and fury pumping through his veins.

Before being tempted to do something more drastic, he paced over to your front door, giving himself a moment to diffuse before ringing the doorbell.

“Hey. You okay?” He asked breathily once you answered.

“Quickly, come in.” You ushered him in and looked both ways before locking the door securely behind you. “You were right, Sam. He tried making a move on me! And he wasn’t best pleased when I didn’t play along.”

“What an idiot.” Sam shook his head disapprovingly as your eyes filled with tears. “Oh come on, don’t cry. You know I don’t know how to deal with that.”

“Sorry.” You winced, wiping them away immediately as he scratched the back of his head, a conflicted expression painted across his face.

“Why are you here?” You sniffled, remembering you forgot to ask.

“Oh, um, I- I came to ask if you wanted to get some ice cream.” He declared somewhat unconvincingly, subtly scanning you to make sure you were unharmed.

“You? Want to get ice cream with me?” Your eyes stopped watering at the thought.

“I’m craving some, why not bring you along? It’s a nice day and there’s an ice cream truck parked right down the road.” He gulped, hoping you wouldn’t question his out-of-character behaviour.

“O-okay.” You nodded, chest feeling lighter at the thought of a strawberry scoop.

“Come on then, slowpoke, out you get.” He opened the door and swung his arm out.

“Coming.” You chuckled, Sam’s teasing instantly brightening your mood.

He guided you down the road, thankful the truck was in the opposite direction to the block he’d had his scuffle with Brad.

Halting before the white van, you observed the myriad of flavours on display and pondered.

“We’ll have one cone with vanilla and one with rum and raisin, please.” Sam announced to the balding ice cream man before you could interject. He swiftly scooped up the creamy spread and gave it to you both, eyebrows furrowed at the scrunched-up 5 dollar note Sam handed him in return.

You gulped at the brown-mauve lump, not wanting to appear ungrateful but struggling to hide your displeasure.

“You love raisins, right? You put them in all your cookies.” Sam sucked at his melting white scoop and you glared enviously.

“Of course, yeah.” You muttered as convincingly as you could before licking a stripe up the unappetising glob, careful to avoid any rogue raisins.

“How is it?” He asked earnestly.

“Amazing. So tasty. Wanna try?” You nudged the cone his way but he shook his head.

“I’ll stick to my boring vanilla.” He winked before taking a crispy bite out of the wafer.

Using strategic nibbles, you could stomach the flavour of the rum by swallowing it whole before the sickly taste had time to disperse. The raisins, however, were a different kind of challenge. Whenever Sam looked away, you took the opportunity to quickly pick the morsels off and toss them to the ground. He was too lost in his usual grumbling, heightened by the excitement with Brad, to pay any notice. Finishing the last of your cone with a sigh of relief, a shiver coursed through your body.

“You cold?” Sam nudged your shoulder against his own.

“A little.” You shrugged, acting like it was the weather and not the monstrosity you’d just ingested causing your goosebumps.

“I didn’t bring anything.” He tutted, stopping in his tracks. “Let me run back and get you something.”

“No, Sam, it’s fine-“

“It’ll only take a minute.” He interrupted, already jogging back towards the house as you took a seat on a nearby bench. It was pointless arguing with him.

Sam retrieved a black fleeced hoodie from his coat rack and quickly paced his way back, not wanting to keep you waiting. As he caught up with you, he noticed a trail of little brown lumps scattered across the pavement, each fleck spaced a couple metres apart. Squinting, he peered closely until the details came into focus. Are those raisins?

Somewhat carelessly, Sam tossed the hoodie in your direction and you grabbed it with a grateful nod. You draped it over yourself with a contented hum, the warmth of his scent enveloping you.

“Thanks.” You smiled gratefully.

“No problem.” He sat down besides you, keeping a small distance. “Let’s play a game.”

“What kinda game?” You cocked your head curiously.

“One of those rapid fire ones. I ask short questions and you have to say yes or no really quickly.” He explained with a faint smirk.

“Okay, hit me!” You slapped your palms against your thighs excitedly.

“Alright. Is pink your favourite colour?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love roses?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like Brad?”

“No.”

“Is today a Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

As soon as the word left your lips, your breath hitched and your mind began racing with ways you could take it back. Sam smirked and shuffled back on the bench, spreading his legs apart and resting his hands behind his head.

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly taking pleasure in your humiliation.

“As a friend. As a neighbour!” You interjected frantically.

“Don’t try to backtrack now. You love me.” He laughed, shoving you playfully as you dropped your head into your hands, keen to hide your reddening face. “Why did I find a trail of raisins leading up to here, huh?”

You raised your head to meet his gaze, now softened and sincere.

“I hate raisins.” You mumbled.

“And you put them in all your cookies because?”

“I knew you liked them.”

“I thought as much.” He hummed, his suspicions confirmed.

“Look, Sam- it’s a really stupid crush, I’ll get over it, I promise. This doesn’t have to change anything, right?” You whined desperately.

“Of course it does. It changes everything.” He shook his head.

“What? No, Sam, please-“

“Now I can finally do what I’ve been wanting to for years.” He turned to face you, Adam’s apple bobbing with apprehension.

“Wh-what? Wait, Sam-” You quietened, shrinking into nothing as he drew closer.

“Shut up.” He grasped your jaw firmly and you melted into his touch as he grazed his bottom lip against yours. “Enough talking.”

Your whimpering was swallowed by the plump pink lips that enveloped your own, fingers tangled into your hair as he kissed you in a way that made you feel his years of longing. The soft, wet flesh smacked messily and filled your chest with an aching desire, unlike anything you’d experienced before. Strings of drool connected your lips as you pulled away reluctantly for breath.

“You’re a good kisser.” You panted breathlessly, blissfully unaware of your surroundings or the judgemental glares you’d been getting from passers-by.

“Come back to mine and I’ll show you what else I’m good at.” He smirked, wiping the spit off his deliciously swollen lips.

You wanted to play modest but you knew there was no use resisting- by the end of the night, you’d be bent over his unmade bed, scrunching up the sheets with balled-up fists and moaning out his name as he mercilessly moulded himself into your squishy guts.

You couldn’t wait.

Taglist:

@bearryyy @w0rsh1psells @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327 @offthethirlwall @bby-imasociopath @emmalandry @slut4starwarssmut @iamjustaholeforyousir @mousie101-blog @sweetcheesecakesblog @bardotsmuse @cultofsin @doestalker @kentaviax @jediavengers @johnbassplayercutie @slut4ani

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#hayden christensen #sam monroe #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe fluff #life as a house #hayden christensen x reader #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader

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roosterforme · 9 months ago

Text

Covering the Classics Part 11 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna hits rock bottom, she knows she needs to figure out how to put herself back together. But she also knows that leaving Kevin behind once and for all will require her to give up the only thing she wants from him. Maybe a shot at happiness with Bob would have been worth it.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, 18+

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

If this wasn't rock bottom, Anna didn't want to know what was. She spent Sunday night laying on the floor next to her bed alternating between crying and hyperventilating. Apparently she couldn't do both at the same time, because her body kept giving each activity its full attention before switching again. When she finally started to fall asleep around three o'clock, her ribs were aching so much, she didn't see how she would be able to teach in a few hours. But it didn't matter. She wouldn't be going to campus anyway.

When she woke up at six, she crawled to her computer and emailed everyone in her classes, informing them that she would not be in today and to work through the syllabus independently until their next class with her. All of the other professors pulled this kind of thing all the time, but she still felt guilty which triggered more tears. If Kevin somehow cost her a full time tenure position along with her happiness, she didn't know what else she had that he could possibly take from her.

When she thought about Bob, it hurt so badly she had to run to the toilet. And when she thought about Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics, it hurt almost just as much. She was in love with so many things in San Diego, but she'd dragged her past here along with her even if she didn't want to acknowledge that fact. She'd brought this dark shadow along that tainted everything and left her wondering if she could fix any of it at this point. If she could even figure out how to start.

As she hiccupped alone in her bathroom, she knew she needed to mentally backtrack to New Jersey for the first time in a long time before she could focus on San Diego. When she crawled back toward her bed, she located her phone and found the contact information for her lawyer's office. It was late enough on the east coast that someone answered after one ring, and soon Anna had to use her scratchy, raw voice to try to communicate.

"When will my divorce be final?" she managed to ask as she propped herself against the wall. She left herself hungry every day, and she was living in this tiny room simply so she could pay these people to help her sort out her life, but the response she got was not ideal.

"Ms. Webber... your husband still has three days left to comply, but he has not done so yet."

Anna wanted to scream, but her throat felt like it was constricting. Why wouldn't he just let her have the one thing she wanted? She wasn't asking for anything extra, just the thing she worked so hard to make her own. She didn't even care about all of the money. But he wouldn't let her have it. Even though she didn't want to fight for anything else in the house, he still wouldn't comply. He was making hundreds of thousands of dollars now, and she wanted none of it back, but he knew that her manuscript was the one thing meant something to her. He would happily drag this out until she had nothing left.

She knew she needed to wait it out. It was her fault she hadn't filed sooner. She let Kevin's words destroy her even when she knew he was sleeping with Alyssa. She let him convince her that she needed him for way too long. "What happens in three days?" she finally asked.

"If he doesn't comply, then you can restructure your end of the divorce agreement, and we can try again."

Anna knew what that meant for her, but she didn't know if she could pull the trigger. Restructure it? There was only one thing she could remove. Kevin would come out clean as a whistle, and she would lose everything she hadn't already.

-----------------------------

When Bob knocked on the door at seven in the morning after barely sleeping at all, Jessica looked concerned when she opened it, and Jake looked annoyed. "What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out and running her hand along his stubbled cheek. "Why haven't you shaved? Why do you look so upset?"

"Why are you even here?" Jake called from the kitchen where he was cooking breakfast in his uniform.

"I need to talk to you," Bob croaked, and Jessica pulled him inside and gently guided him toward the couch. She rubbed his back and didn't rush him as he sat there, and Jake even stopped turning to glare from in front of the waffle iron.

"Did you know Anna's married?"

Bob could tell by the sharp intake of breath and the way Jessica's hand came to a screeching halt on his back that she had no idea.

"She's what?"

"Married," he repeated without any feeling whatsoever. The handful of hours he'd spent around her were some of the best of his life, but he would have never let his friends try to push them together if he'd know. He should have let her keep him in the friend zone when she tried to let him know that's what she wanted. Mutual attraction be damned, she'd made marriage vows to someone else. He just wished he would have known.

"No," Jessica said adamantly. "How? She's got no rings, and she said she lives alone. She mentioned an ex before, but I'm virtually certain he's still in New Jersey. She... struggles with certain things, and if she was married, someone would be helping her make ends meet. I don't know where you came up with this, but no."

Bob took his glasses off and set them down on the arm of the couch while he ran his hands over his exhausted eyes. "Jessica. She told me she was."

"Well," his friend said as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, "I'll ask her about it at lunchtime today. There must be some sort of miscommunication."

"I don't think so," he groaned softly. "We... slept together, and those were her parting words as she ran out of my house."

"You slept together?!" Jessica practically shrieked.

"It's about damn time!" Jake called from the kitchen, clanging his spatulas together and whooping loudly.

But Bob was shaking his head and staring at the floor through his slightly fuzzy vision. He had his phone in his hand all night, trying to decide if he should call or text her, wondering if she went home to climb into bed with her husband. Scared that this was the reason why she squeezed herself into her apartment door before closing it abruptly when he drove her home.

"I should have backed off when she friend zoned me the first time. I should have never believed that I could be with a woman like her." A woman that inspired the best poetry he'd ever written in his life. A woman who made him want everything.

It finally dawned on Bob that there might be an irate husband in his future, and he would just have to take whatever came his way. Because there wasn't a chance that Anna didn't have her spouse wrapped around her fingers. Even if she had a lapse of judgement when it came to Bob, Anna's husband would know how good he had it and want to fight for her. Bob would just have to take it on the chin.

When Jessica kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll try to sort this out," he just nodded with his shoulders slumped and his elbows digging into his thighs. But there was nothing to sort out. Anna would never be his, and now he would have to pay the price for the way she told him she was married about an hour too late to take it all back. Honestly, he never thought accidentally sleeping with a married woman was something he would ever have to deal with in his wildest dreams, and now that he was forced to do it, he was getting pretty mad.

-----------------------------

Anna managed to give her Classics lecture on Tuesday morning with a sore throat after screaming into her pillow off and on for most of Monday afternoon. She hadn't eaten in days, and if anyone noticed her puffy, red eyes, they didn't mention it to her. She had quizzes to grade and reports to read, but when she went back to her office, the overwhelming scent of bread from the cafeteria made her gag.

There was a pack of peanuts in her desk along with a room temperature can of ginger ale, but she had no appetite yet. She was just in survival mode until she decided what to do when Kevin's time was up. Until she worked up the courage to talk to Bob and apologize.

He was the sweetest man she had ever known, and her lapse of judgement was going to cost her any chance with him in the future as well as her friendships. In fact, none of them were ever going to want to speak to her again, and that's what she deserved. If she would have just been honest with Bob, she wouldn't be in this mess. But San Diego was like a balm for her senses, making her feel normal where she knew she wasn't. Maybe Bob would have been willing to wait a few more months until she figured out her next steps. Maybe he would have accepted that she was legally separated from Kevin if her husband would just sign the fucking paperwork.

Tears were burning her eyes again just as someone knocked on her office door. She sat perfectly still, silently begging them to go away, praying that everyone would leave her alone until she could sneak out and go home later.

"Anna?"

She knew that voice so well, and she was shocked to find that it sounded more concerned than angry.

"It's just us," came the second voice, and without another thought, Anna was on her feet, wrenching the door open as she started to sob. "Oh, Anna," whispered Jessica as she collected her into her arms.

Anna stood in the middle of her tiny office and cried and cried in Jessica's arms while her other friend studiously locked the door and dimmed the lights before reaching for the box of tissues on the shelf. "Here," she whispered, and Anna accepted a wad of tissues from her.

She tried to mop at her face, but it was a lost cause. Jessica pushed the loose strands of her red hair back from her eyes as she said, "Anna, we're here for you, but I think we need to talk. For real."

"We have some... concerns."

Anna tried to take huge gulps of air into her burning lungs as she gasped, "I'm really not okay. I hurt Bob."

Her friends looked at each other before Jessica said, "I think it's time you backtracked a little bit. Maybe all the way back to New Jersey."

"I hated it there," she told them immediately, wiping at her eyes as she sat on the edge of her desk, bracing herself for the interrogation to come.

Advanced Calculus eyed her sympathetically before a look of steel locked in her gaze. "Are you married?"

Anna nodded slightly, cringing as she pictured Kevin's face. "Technically, yes."

"Anna!" Jessica exclaimed. "You slept with Bob!"

They knew. They knew everything. Bob told them, and they knew what she'd done. She cradled her forehead in her hands and said, "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I hate Kevin. I don't think we were even married two years before he started cheating on me. I'm trying my best to divorce him, but he just won't fucking let me."

"What do you mean he won't let you?" Advanced Calculus asked, cutting off Jessica before she could screech again.

"He is ruining my life," Anna whispered, finally starting to feel more anger than anything else. "Like an idiot, I've let him ruin my life. I put him through medical school. I dropped out of Princeton to work two jobs to put my husband through medical school." Her voice faded into a soft yet harsh whisper. "Kevin promised he'd take care of me after that so I could finish my Ivy League PhD. But then he started cheating on me because I was always tired and boring and no fun. Because all I was doing was working to pay his tuition for four years straight while he fucked another medical student between classes. I caught them having sex in my car."

"No," both women gasped at the same time. But she just nodded as the memories she had tried so hard to keep at bay since she moved to California came roaring back.

"That's not a marriage," Jessica practically growled, reaching out for Anna's hand that she hadn't even been aware was shaking. "Not really."

"You're right," Anna agreed. "I'm a joke." She honestly felt like one. Images of Bob's face and the memory of his kind voice flooded her system. The way he looked at her and touched her felt like love. The things he wrote about her had her almost convinced he could love her back.

"You're not a joke, Anna," her friend told her. "You're a smart, capable woman who should have come to her friends months ago with all of this information."

"I hate Kevin!" Jessica shrieked before biting down on her own fingertips, and it was so comical, Anna might have laughed if she was in a better frame of mind.

"Yes," Advanced Calculus agreed. "Kevin sounds like an asshole. But you know who isn't an asshole? Bob. But right now, he kind of feels like one."

Anna closed her eyes as the tears started welling up faster. "I tried so hard. You have to believe me. But Bob is perfect. And he didn't think I was boring. But I wasn't planning on falling in love ever again."

"You love him?" Jessica snapped loudly. "You love him? Because Bob thinks you are in a loving marriage with your spouse!"

"Jessica, go sit in the desk chair and calm down," the other woman commanded, and Anna watched the petite, bespectacled blonde stomp around her desk. "Now, Anna, why didn't you explain this all to Bob before you rocked the man's whole world and then ran off into the night like Cinderella?"

"I freaked out," Anna whispered, swallowing hard. "He's the perfect man. He did everything exactly right, and he was exquisite." She looked down at the floor as she said, "I haven't been touched like that in years. Like I was worth something. I'm not even thirty yet, and my husband ditched me for someone else while actively bankrupting me." She was mortified by what she was telling them, but she couldn't stop herself now. "Kevin always said I should dye my hair, and he loved it when I wore makeup. But Bob... he likes my hair and my freckles. He likes the books I read. He thinks I'm smart." She felt her face warm up as she thought about his poems. "We had sex, and then he was looking at me, and he started talking about us. I can't be an us with someone when I can't shake Kevin."

Anna could practically feel Jessica freaking out in the chair behind her, but she kept her eyes on the floor. "If you need help with Kevin or money for a lawyer or something-" Jessica said, but Anna cut her off.

"No. I'm fine. But he's going to force me to decide if I'd rather have my freedom or my self worth. And right now, I can't decide what I want to let him get away with when he already took so much."

"Hey," her much calmer friend said softly, and Anna finally met her eyes. "We're here for you. Anything you need, okay? But I need you to promise you'll talk to Bob. The sooner the better." Then Anna watched her reach for her tie dye lunch box which she apparently brought in with her and pulled out one of her fancy containers. "Bradley made you some hummus, and I packed you crackers and veggies to go with it. Please make sure you're eating. And please talk to Bob. I need to go teach Differential Equations, but I'll text you later. Jess, you have Physics III in fifteen minutes."

Anna received two hugs that she barely returned, and when the two women were gone, she sank into her chair and managed to eat some of the hummus without gagging. Then she texted Bob, because if nothing else, she needed him to know how sorry she was for running out on him. How sorry she was for all of it.

---------------------------

Anna wanted to talk to him on Thursday evening. Bob had to fight the urge to offer to pick her up on campus and save her from having to take an Uber to his house, especially after the few details that Jessica told him about her finances. She confirmed that Anna was married. She also promised him that there was no angry spouse waiting to jump him in the In 'N Out parking lot. She also told him that he needed to give Anna a chance to clear the air. So he agreed. He was free on Thursday. It wasn't like he'd been doing anything except going to work and coming straight home all week, even avoiding Suzanne as much as he could. And he wasn't going to break his promise to Jessica, even though Nat told him to delete Anna's number.

Bob sat in his living room, staring at his new bookshelf in disgust. He'd let himself fall into a fantasy where he imagined someday Anna's books would get mixed up with his on the shelves. Where all of her dog eared novels would live alongside his pristine ones. He'd been subconsciously thinking about it since he met her.

His insides were churning with anxiety. Part of him wanted to scream at her that none of this was fair to him, but the other part knew that no matter what, he still didn't want to see tears in her brown eyes. He couldn't let her take all of the blame for this anyway. He'd even told Jessica that she pushed a little too hard and that she shouldn't do that again in the future.

When there was a knock on his door, it was hard for him to stand up. How was he supposed to do this? He dragged himself across his living room to his front door and carefully opened it to find Anna with the saddest expression imaginable on her face. She looked somehow smaller and paler than she should. She looked like she hadn't slept. And that's when Bob realized he must look the same way to her.

"Hi," she whispered, brown eyes darting around his face nervously. She held out a small bouquet of blue flowers and the books she had borrowed in his direction, and Bob noticed her hands were shaking. "Um, I got these for you. They look like the flowers on the cover of the Whitman poems, and I thought of you when I saw them at the store."

"Anna," Bob groaned as he took them from her along with the books. He moved out of the doorway so she could come inside, and somehow he still couldn't decide if he was angry at her or not.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, turning to look at him once she was halfway across the room. There were several feet of space between them, but he could smell her hair. She was wearing the jeans she wore last time she went to the Hard Deck. He knew what that shirt felt like between his fingers. He could tell she was trying not to cry as she said, "I'm just really sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me you're married?" he snapped, unable to hold back. He knew his tone was harsh as he added, "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because I should have been divorced by now!" she practically shouted, and Bob was instantly more soothed by that sentence than he should have been. "You think I want to be married to the worst man I know?" He had so many questions already, but something told him to just let her keep going. "That's why I'm here. In San Diego. He was supposed to sign the papers so I could get on with my ridiculous life, but he won't!" She sucked in a deep breath before she said, "And it's eating me alive knowing what I kept settling for when you exist! Knowing that I could have been with a man like you."

Her lips were moving like she was shivering, and her eyes were wide and watery. Red blotches covered her freckled cheeks, and Bob just knew she was going to panic again. She made a helpless noise and rushed forward, ready to run, but this time he caught her in his arms, the books and flowers falling to the floor. He let her struggle for a few seconds as she cried, but he held on tight.

"Anna," he said softly. "You can't keep running."

Her body slumped against his. She looked up at him as he held her, and a few seconds later, she let her cheek come to rest against his chest. She nodded against him as she whispered, "I don't really have anywhere to go anyway."

-------------------------

Bob kept his distance while also somehow always being nearby. Anna knew he was probably expecting her to vanish again if he turned his back for too long, but she was too mentally and physically exhausted to move from his living room couch while he fixed some tea. It was getting dark outside, and it was nearly impossible to try to think about anything other than Sunday night when she felt truly free for the first time in years.

Similar thoughts must have been on Bob's mind, because he was still occasionally looking at her like he used to. Then his cheeks would turn pink, and he'd duck his head before showing her a completely neutral expression. She took the mug of tea he handed her and whispered, "Thank you," as he sat down as far away from her as he could. She cleared her throat as she looked into her drink and said, "You're one of the kindest, most generous people I've ever met." She forced her gaze to his face. "I'm sorry I took that for granted. And I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you and the ladies."

Bob nodded but didn't speak for a minute. His voice was as gentle as always as he eventually said, "I'd like it if we could talk."

"Yeah," she agreed softly now that she felt like the fight inside her was gone and the tears had finally dried up.

"Where's your husband?"

She pictured Kevin standing in the perfect kitchen in the beautiful house on the cul-de-sac. "In New Jersey."

"Right," Bob replied in a reassuring tone. "You said you should have been divorced by now, so does that mean you don't want to be married to him?"

"I hate him," she whispered, back to staring into her mug. "And I'm sure he hates me, too. No, I don't want to be married to him any longer."

"You're separated?" he asked softly.

Anna shrugged, wishing more than anything that she could scoot a little closer to Bob and feel his hand on hers. "Not legally. He won't sign anything."

"Right," Bob repeated again. "Would it be too much for me to ask what happened? Because I really don't understand. I'm trying, but I'm still so confused, Anna."

Her brain was screaming at her to start crying again, begging her to fall apart or hyperventilate, but she didn't even have the energy for it. She took one long sip of her perfect cup of tea before setting it aside and turning to look at him. Even now, he had sympathy in his eyes. Whether that was because he now knew she and Kevin weren't really together or because he was always this sweet, she couldn't say. But he was everything she wanted and would never have again.

"The short version is that I put him through medical school while he cheated on me. The long version is that he used up every bit of my money, let me work myself ragged, prevented me from finishing my PhD at Princeton, belittled me, and flaunted his extramarital relationship in my face. It was humiliating knowing he was cheating. It's humiliating eating sandwiches and peanuts for every meal now. But the worst thing is that he is holding my manuscript hostage, and no matter what I do, he won't let me have it back."

"Jesus, Anna," he gasped, making the slightest move like he wanted to reach for her before pulling back.

She slowly stood, and he looked up at her, trying to gauge what she was going to do, but she just looked down at him as she tucked her shaking hands behind her back. "You're perfect," she whispered. "You're Sky Writing. You're the handsome man from the bookstore who smells like tea and soap. You're Bob, the guy my friends knew I would fall in love with as soon as I met them." She took a step back, barely able to handle how he was looking at her like she still mattered. "But I don't know how to be an us with you. I know that's what you want, but I never wanted to fall like this again. I tried my best not to. I can't do this with Kevin's shadow behind me all the time. And I'm just really sorry I let it go as far as it did. Because now that I know so much about you...."

That's when the tears arrived, and that's also when Bob stood up. "Anna, I feel like-"

When he cut himself off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air for a few seconds, she took one long, last look at him and whispered, "I'm going to go." He didn't stop her from stepping over the flowers, walking out the door, and heading to the end of his street where she waited for a ride as the night air made her shiver, and her tear streaked cheeks finally started to dry again.

----------------------------------

Oh, they both fell for each other. I'm not sure if Bob feels better or worse now. Kevin is an absolute dick, and we will hear from him in the next chapter. Keep fighting, Anna. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

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shaisuki · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiiii it's the anon who sent the anon message about reading your Itoshi Rin smuts before falling asleep HAHA! After revisiting your blog, u have no idea how bIG my eyes went when you posted a reply, especially when I kept brainstorming ideas (smut most of the time) on what I should request from you! ;;; "Should it be Omegaverse dynamic with Alpha!Rin? How about a wholesome moment that can lead to smut or something yandere where Rin discovers that he has feelings for chubby!fem?? What about an Owl shapeshifter! Rin where chubby gurl had to take care of him when she saw Owl!Rin in bad shape?? What about Rin reluctantly playing a dating simulator because of Bachira's dare and soon falling in love with a character who is chubby!fem (this one is inspired when I was playing BlueLock world champion but it's not an otome game-- but hey! I help mah husband get better at soccer <3) There are so many things... That's why I only mentioned 4... You can pick from any of them if you'd like :DD

❝ A CLAIM FOR NEED. ❞

𓅓 FEATURING. ALPHA! ITOSHI RIN

CONTENT WARNINGS. omegaverse + alpha! rin + omega reader pretending to be a beta + mating + marking + knotting + rutting + noncon/dubcon + breeding + sabotage + dacryphilia + marking + scenting + cunnilingus + stalking + inaccurate details about omegaverse + do forgive me, it's my first time writing.

NOTES. i'll call you rin anon. i'll gladly write your ideas nonnie. you're a fucking genius and this ideas are simply superb and i had a hard time choosing all of your ideas and my inbox and messages are always open for you nonnie. i hope i did this one justice T_T.

SYNOPSIS. hiding your status as an omega didn't escape from the heightened senses of the popular alpha in your school and with this, he has the right to claim you.

“i don't know.”

“will she be okay?”

"society is unkind with the likes of hers."

it gets repetitive. how your mother worries about you. it's the same damned words like you were helpless. being born an omega you were doomed or more likely unfortunate. society is now crawling with alphas, who are the dominant and top of the hierarchy. betas who are in the middle with their average roles in society and omegas. the very bottom whose role is to serve and be submissive for their alphas and have their pups. you've grown to hate from what you're born in. a female omega, nonetheless. you could have been an alpha or a beta who lives in not so demanding roles for them.

growing up, you learn how to blend and to pretend to be a beta to protect yourself. dosing yourself with the right amount of heat suppressants. learn to act like one. not too demure or dominant at things. you've done anything just to avoid suspicions of being the lower of the crop. your mother insisting that this is the way you'll be safe until your rightful mate will claim you and to avoid being raped by an alpha who's in a rut. you don't want to be shamed and the latter regretting for fucking you.

aside from that, you don't look like the typical omega. while they have the lithe and smaller bodies, yours was softer and bigger than the typical omega. you were grateful for it. nobody had ever raised suspicions on you being a omega.

well, for the untrained ones and hasn't sharpened their instincts no one but for those who mastered and got their senses honed to detect, you were hopeless but it's the adults who are mated and you only get a raised brows from them and a nod understanding your situation.

except for one, itoshi rin.

your school's soccer superstar and an alpha. unlike any other students who are still exploring their traits, rin had developed his. too mature for his own good and too dominant. always have shown his superiority and exudes dominance in others without efforts. despite this and his growing popularity in school. rin is still an unmated alpha. the number of omegas surrounds him and hoped to be his mate but never approached him, not risking to be rejected. there's wooing and courting but he paid them no mind.

alphas like rin is the people you avoid. you had heard and met with accidents with omegas going to an early heat due to alphas emitting pheromones even it's unintentional and you don't want to end up like them even with your heat suppressants. you don't want to blow up your cover. it's the only way to make you safe.

interactions can't be avoided wether it's a brief passing in the hallways and or in the same room with rin, you felt uncomfortable. maybe you're too protected or not used to his domineering presence. it gives you the creeps and you don't want setting your heat early with alphas like rin surrounding you.

it wasn't hard to notice you. rin wasn't in a rush to mate or claim someone in his own desires. he's a rising superstar. he couldn't be bothered with such needs. an alpha like him could get everything he wants when he desired when he's in the top of his own career but there's always a rock in his way and it's you. from the day he first met you, he knew you were hiding something from these society. you were an omega pretending to be a beta. it's unheard of but it's possible. you were the proof it and everyone's stupid for not noticing it.

pretend all you want but it didn't escape him your alluring scent and the small habits omegas have. the frown etched in your face when you're surrounded or near the alphas or how you avoid the crowd. his keen sense of smell taking a whiff of your scent permeating in the air. undetected by others but to him it's always the first whenever you're near. warm honey being drizzled in freshly baked goods and it reminds of him of the happy times. rin had enough troubles but it wasn't bad to claim you. a omega pretending to be a beta. it would be interesting.

rin understands when wanting someone like you, it would be difficult. he tried his advances to you but it only backfires on him. you were too eluded. always avoiding him like his presence suffocates you. brief conversations and a nod when you avoid him just to pass suspicions from you being an omega but you could be careless at times. play dumb with him and he'll show you whose stupid for refusing him.

what simple would turn complicated when rin and his alpha inside him screams for you. needed you. not wanting to scare you from him and to claim you. mark you as his and be his mate forever. you will give him strong, healthy pups with that soft, plump body of yours. ready to be bred and marked by him.

rin had known your certain habits on blending with everyone and that little secret of pretending someone you're not. oh, it would bear fruit from his hard labors from getting you out of that made up status of yours. why would you pretend someone you're not. Is it the fear of being deemed as useless? proving that you can be independent? rin could give you that. he'll use you until you fully submit to him. freedom? he can't do nothing much from that when you'll be his. he will give you all the love and pampering that any omega can have. he will make sure of it.

then rin started to create his own ways to get you. far as getting from stealing your heat suppressants. getting your medical records in the nurse's office. memorizing your heat cycles and the subtle release of pheromones to get you in heat. he knows by doing this it will be a way to get you closer to him and make your omega need him. it's almost there, he needed to be patient.

you got used to the idea of being a beta that you forgot to be an omega sometimes. years of mastery with the intention of self-preservation was always on your mind. wanting a life of your own choice and not run by the instinct from the traits you were born in. perhaps you're one in a million. seen the cruelness and unfairness the society have to offer for someone like you.

looking at the nearly empty seats in the classrooms with a few students gearing up to go home. you decided it was time for you. cleaning the clutters in your desk and putting your chair after getting your bag then you went to replace your shoes placing your indoor shoes inside the shoe locker and began to go home. passing in the football field and that's when you began to notice the changes in your body. you had been going back and forth in the restrooms for today and getting a little moodier than the usual. it's a sign that you're going into heat in the next days and the heat suppressants you were taking lately seemed to taste a little different? you shrugged it off. this isn't the first time it happened to you and you were kind of glad. you still have the time to formulate what kind of excuses to make for your absences due to your heat. you should go home now, noticing the sun going down for the moon to show. you began to walk away.

upon walking you notice someone else is going towards your way. it's just a student going back for something they forgot and upon closer look and the scent of him, you recognized it was itoshi rin. you tried not to flinch and dread settled in your stomach. you don't want to be around him, not with the telltale signs of your incoming heat and risking of finding out that you were pretending. you could almost let out a sigh of relief before a voice called you.

"i think you forgot something." his voice echoing in the quietness of the place. turning around, your eyes widens. rin stands there in his lax posture, holding out a bottle of your supposedly heat suppressants. you swallowed the lump in your throat and composing yourself in front of him. feigning innocence and what he was implying at you.

"it's not mine and i don't take those." you calmly stated. looking at the bottle of pills in his hands and to his face. he doesn't show any emotions. examining the bottle in his grasp. "oh, really?" he asks you in a neutral voice. his words next doesn't prepare you from the chills creeping up in your spine.

"you're not a beta, are you? i'm sure of it." his teal eyes getting cloudy at his accusations at you. the words got stuck in your throat. you can only shake your head at him and you were a bit angry at him for making such accusations at you when it's true and you have your own decision for this one.

"you can fool everyone but not to me. an omega like you pretending to be a beta, how foolish." there's a condescending tone in his voice like it was foolish to pretend and it stung. easy for him to say that. he was born an alpha. he didn't had to go through difficulties like you had.

rin could smell the sudden change in your scent. it's smells something burnt. he may have upset you and he can see you chewing your lips.

your shoulders shakes. he doesn't have the right to tell you that. "yeah. i'm pretending to be one. so what? it's none of your business." you snapped at him. angry and frustrated at the world for being born an omega. "i have my reasons and if that bothers you that much, leave me..."

the words dies at their own. suddenly you can't continue. the world starts to spin and you were feeling lightheaded. your heart rate spiking up and you caught the scent of pheromones in full blast. the earthy tones of his scent invading your senses and you can't help the need to submit to him but you fought the urge to do so. with the last of your remaining senses and not your omega controlling your feelings you ran away from him.

after that you made sure you were far from him. there were tears of frustration rolling in your cheeks. all of your pretend, your hard work crumbling for that one confrontation. the streets were empty. kamakura wasn't a populous place in the first place and only known for tourists spot's. looking around, you were alone which is good. leaving you with a problem of your own. itoshi rin, the school's superstar knows your secret. he won't be that cruel to tell the world that you're a omega pretending to be a beta, right?

you were broke out in your thoughts when you feel the all too familiar cramp in your stomach. you though you couldn't breath, followed by a warm gush of slick between your legs and you were delirious.

no. no. no. no.

this couldn't be happening. no fucking way. the stress and rin blasting his pheromones at you must have triggered your heat. you couldn't do anything but to feel helpless.

stupid. stupid. stupid.

you were so angry at yourself for being an omega, for being you. how could you handle your heat alone when you're from home and you don't want to walk in the streets with you on heat. think. you need to think. remembering that there is safety rooms for when omegas set their heat on early until it passes out.

rin watched as you ran away from him. he could really give the effect he have on you. what you sow is what you reap and rin could finally get you. the confrontation that just happened and your heat coming early from him emitting his scent and how you're body reacted from it. you are to be his mate and no one could say so from it.

with your heat triggering, it doesn't take too long to trigger his. allowing him to sync with your heat and his rut, with that he's rightfully your mate. all it needs is to find and knot and claim you.

following you with the trail of your scent in the air. rin found you distressed and on the verge of tears. such a sight to behold. your toughness and made-up personality slowly crumbling for your heat to take over. it made him drool, wiping and he can feel the familiar tightness of his pants and the snarl in his lips. the desire burning in his insides.

the air in your lungs leaves you as you topple and your back hitting the hard tile of one of the rooms designated for omegas who got their early heat. your mind in a haze as you got pinned down and the scent of an alpha belonging to rin. from the way his eyes are wide and dilated and the indescribable strength he have. he's in a rut. that frightens you, you don't want this.

all of your life being an omega isn't something you can describe as pleasant even your mother who is one can say the same thing. you were conceived early, crushing your mother's dream. you don't want suffering in the same fate as hers.

it's instinct they say, for alphas and omegas to mate but with the likes of rin, it's a form of mockery. it's a way of saying you don't have a freedom for yourself to choose. the thought bringing tears to your eyes. you don't want this and a form of rebellion of this life who had nothing but to loathe the likes of you, you rejected him.

"i don't want you."

rin halts his movements. surprised at the words coming from your mouth. rejecting him. you're a stubborn one and he thought omegas are submissive. you're the flawed one in the system or it's the effects of the heat suppressants and the mindset of being a beta for too long.

"brave of you to deny me but i can knock some sense in you or would you like me to knock you up, huh? knock you up with my pups and be a good omega of mine."

he can sense another shift in you. your scent getting sweeter and your squirming lessening. it's like you were slowly entering in subspace. your omega instincts kicking in against your own will. you're an interesting one and rin loves that. it would be easier for him to mark you. always had been his desire. the sudden change bringing pride to him and his alpha getting territorial by the minute. you were ready.

"you want that, 'mega? want to carry my pups?"

he taunts and he didn't give you a word to reply, only to crash his lips into yours. the aggressive muscle of his mouth clashing into yours. claiming the insides of your mouth and swirling it inside and with your instincts, you returned it with such fervor. drool escaping in the corners of your mouths. it was the sloppy, wet and aggressive kind of kiss that reflects the desire.

what once holding your wrists now wanders in the expanse of your body and it finds in the home of your uniform's buttons before it was ripped. the sound of your clothing being teared resonating in the place.

a string of saliva connecting on both of your lips when rin broke the kiss. too impatient and greedy. sweat beading in his forehead. pants too tight to be comfortable and fuck, your scent is intoxicating.

you're helpless under him. too dizzy to function and you can't help but to think this will be the end of your days as free.

"please, no." there is that voice in yours that still surfaces despite your raging hormones. the want not to succumb in being mated. you valued being free than anything.

this seems to anger rin. his aggression heightening towards you and from your words. why the hell did you not want to be mated when you two are destined and had this unbreakable bond of being mates. he believed in that for too long. to know the differences between love and just a simple logic of instincts.

he cups your jaw in his hand. squishing the flesh with his fangs baring. snarling and seething with anger from your refusal. is it that hard or you were too corrupted in your thinking.

"why must you deny me? you're mine from the moment i set my eyes on you!" his voice furious and you can't help but to wince. the tears freely rolls in your cheeks.

this affected rin, seeing how hurt and distressed you are from being forced by him. he can't help it. why you must hurt him too. you were his. can you just accept that? it would be easier for him and to you. he'll be good to you.

although frustrated at your defiance at him, he instinctively scents you. let his scent calm you. it takes effect when your tears are nothing but streaks. engulfed in the scent of him with the aroma of something primal and crisp.

it eases rin when you've calmed down a bit. alphas are know to have to little or no self-restraint at all but rin is different. trained himself to have control when it comes to time where he'll be mated to his rightful mate. a contrast to what he did to you.

you were his. it always was. they say alphas are drawn to what what their mates smells like and it came to a surprise to him when a beta like you possessing such qualities a omega have and thus born his suspicions and the confirmation bringing an edge to it. it's also whenever you're near, he's content and fulfilled. you were his destined mate. the piece of the missing part of his puzzle. it was his right to claim you no matter what your reasons are.

you were calm. dangerously calm. your fears and worries fading as you inhale to the scent of his. your heart fluttering and you can't help but to look at him. intense and stoically handsome. the lines in his faces defined. this was your alpha. who claims you to be his and yet, this will be the time you will finally succumb to your desires. this was nature.

"alpha..."

mewling at him and rin could feel the surge of pride bubbling in his chest. his sweet omega calling out to him. your hands raising in attempt of reaching out to him. your eyes lidded and pleading for him. this is the real of you. no more pretending, no hiding from him.

rin holds your wrists and like any other alpha would do their omega. he brought it to his lips, nuzzling into the scent gland in your wrists and you squirmed. there's a hiccup followed by your thighs rubbing each other.

he can smell the sweet arousal dripping out from your cunt. he couldn't wait to get a taste out of it.

his lovely omega. kissing your wrists and your arms before leaning down to kiss you. his lips moving to your mouth, then to your jaw and the scent gland in your neck where he can smell you. the sweet scent tickling his nose making his nostrils flare. inhaling the scent his omega is emitting before taking a huge lick out of it. the action sending tremors in your body, making you mewl more for him.

your body on fire and more slick gushing out from you. you couldn't think anymore at this point or you're too tired to care. your efforts and hardwork of protecting yourself is nothing to him. could you accept it? a life with him? your body screams for him. it aches for him. your soul calls for him. can you deny it with your whole being screaming for him? is this what you really want?

perhaps the answer was there all along. presented in front of you but you're too absorbed in blending with the others. there's a voice in your head telling you, could you do it? you're still in the constant battle with yourself but with instinct and nature. you could barely much do so.

rin is the answer for all of this. he found out and now he's here. claiming you for his own. you couldn't stop him when he's already in between your legs. sniffing through your panties, soaked with your slick. your body jerks, a mewl slipping in your mouth and rin is pleased with your reaction.

sliding off your panties and his mouth waters at the sight. your fat pussy glistening in slick and arousal. the fleshy mound and the glistening folds of your puffy cunt bare in front and rin shivers when his tongue got the first taste of you. licking through your folds and the sweet taste of your cunt bouncing in his tongue. lapping up the newly slick coming out from your hole with such want. you taste damn good and it's expected for his omega.

"r-rin..." your voice trembles at the sensation of his tongue in your folds. your hips arching from the intrusion and your slick gushing like waterfalls. his tongue gliding to your hole and sucks into your clit that throbs and twitches at the attention given by him.

rin grips your wide hips while your pillowy thighs crushing his head and isn't bothered by it. engrossed of giving the utmost pleasure to his omega that will leave you wanting for more. he rips a deep moan from you when his tongue prods at your aching hole and it spurs him more. he needs more and so he licks it, wiggles his tongue and with a scream you came into his tongue but it doesn't stop him. greedily lapping at your sweet essence until you were quenched of relief for awhile.

licking his lips, rin discarded his uniform. throwing it at the side. his cock aching with the intention of pumping you full of his cum and bearing his pups. there's nothing than fulfilling to see you full and swollen.

hungry eyes gazes at you. rin thought nobody could ever look so vulnerable as you. body splayed in front of him. your slick coating your inner thighs and your chest heaves in every breath you take. lips swollen and there's a whine coming from you. begging for him to take you. what defiance earlier is nothing but a husk of your former self. this is what you truly are. a needy omega who have nothing but the desire to be taken care of by him and for the younger itoshi he's more than willing to do that as your alpha and your mate.

hovering above your quivering body, rin grabbed your hands. kissing them before leaning down to lick your tears. it was a distraction before slowly entering your quivering heat. rin growls at the sensation of his length being wrapped around you. your walls spasming around him. welcoming him with eagerness that leaves him no doubt that you were his.

it earns a whine from you, being stretched that it leaves you crying. your hymen breaks at the intrusion of his length but all you could do is take what you were given. followed by the protest leaving at your lips. the fear of being pregnant at this early stage of your life.

"rin, stop. w-what if i get pregnant?" you asked him but he only growls, feeling the tight heat of your pussy stretching around him.

"then so be it." he replied. grunting at the spasm of your walls accommodating him.

"i-i don't want to.."

"you will." he snarls when completely bottoms out at you. his knot at the base of his cock hitting your folds so sweetly that slick gathers at the hole of your clenching pussy at him.

"you're going to be a good 'mega and mate for me don't you?" raising your legs and hooking it up to his shoulders before snapping his hips at yours. his full length crashing at your insides with a desperate need with an intention to breed and procreate with you.

you were left with no protests, his full speed hitting you in such depths that you can only mewl and cry out for him. holding his shoulders while he buried himself deep inside. take and take. that's what you did. letting himself bruise you from how rough he is and drool starts to escape from the corners of your mouth.

seeing you cock drunk and eyes dazed from him breeding you and your heat in full blow. rin captures your mouth with his. the wet muscle of his mouth encircling your insides to claim territory while he basks in your scent. it wouldn't be too long before he marked you as his. claim you to be his and forever to be yours.

his chest rubbing into your breasts while he got you pressed in his body. he can feel the very bits of your soft tummy jiggling upon the impact of his hips. it feels so divine to be this close to you. your flesh in his rock hard abs. he can't wait to see you growing with his pups.

rin swallows your moans, that's a good mate for him. you were truly bonded with him and his chest swells with pride. all his plans coming into bearing in such fruition. this is what you are to him.

breaking the kiss to lick the scent glands in your neck, such actions leaves your body into sensitivity. you can feel everything around him. his scent, his length shaping your hole in his, his breathy moans and the growl he keeps emitting. everything felt so right about him. you were in no state lucid as you keep thinking about him. you crave everything about him but at this moment you want nothing but his knot to fill you up. have his babies and be a good mate for him.

with rin's animalistic thrusts of your abused hole. it doesn't take too long before you creamed around him. "alpha..." you call out to him. your legs trembling around him and your supple thighs ripples at your orgasm.

rin instinctively pushed his knot around you when your orgasm came. locking it tight around your hole with no chance of his healthy semen seeping every crevice of your pussy and to your cervix. ensuring fertility of your future pups with him. spurts after spurts of his cum endlessly releasing inside of you and you willingly took it. locking your legs around his hips in which both of you moaned out.

"you're my sweet 'mega, aren't you?"

nuzzling at your neck before he bites it. there's a tremble and a gasp. you were finally his. you were tied to him, forever and it brings out such joy in rin's heart. having you to be by his side forever. no walks about stupid dreams and wants you have. you will only think of him and only him.

"yours, alpha." you moaned out.

and in a series of wants and needs, you are nothing but his omega and sweet mate.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x chubby reader #chubby reader #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x you #omegaverse #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x chubby reader #yandere alpha #yandere x chubby reader #yandere blue lock x reader #yandere blue lock

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whatswrongwithblue · 6 months ago

Text

The Hunt pt. 1

Read on AO3.

Part 2. Part 3.

Summary: Alastor x Reader (reader is afab, uses she/her pronouns.) Date nights in Hell are done a little differently, especially when you're dating The Radio Demon.

Trigger warnings: Canon typical violence. Reader and Alastor in Hell for a reason. Horror with some twisted romance.

Today had been a particularly drab day.

Acid rain had been falling all afternoon and Pentagram City was shut down because of it. And you could feel yourself shutting down as well.

These bad days used to fall on you much more often. Back when life was simpler and less stimulating. When there were less options to hyper fixate on and stimulate those delightful hormones that didn’t always help you to feel happy but allowed you to . . . feel.

But today you felt that numbness creeping in; a slithering, creeping, darker cousin to boredom. You were so tired and every forced smile and polite reply aimed at the other hotel residents drained your battery little by little by little by little . . . .

You were on your fifth cup of coffee that afternoon, the bitter caffeinated beverage the only thing left that seemed to cause any kind of chemical spark in your dead gray matter, but unknowingly, you had stopped sipping it several minutes ago. Rather, you were just mindlessly staring down into it, watching the little tendrils of separated creamer swirl around the top. At least it was far more interesting than anything else going on in the lobby.

“Are we having a bit of a . . . down day?” Alastor’s voice said remarkably close to your ear and you jumped, turning to find him bent over at his waist, his head right next to yours.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, turning away from him.

He had pampered and fussed over you too many times on days like these, even when – no, especially when they became so bad you couldn’t get out of bed. But things were different now; since his return to Hell, Alastor was busier than ever and you didn’t want to bother him. The guilt would be worse than the emptiness you were currently struggling with.

“I think not,” came his sing-song reply and you shut your eyes against the enthusiasm you heard in his tone.

“Don’t I look fine?” you challenged and when he stood up straighter, his smile pinching just a little at the corners, you heard how snippy you sounded with him and sighed. There was the damnable guilt you had been trying to avoid.

“You look beautiful as always, darling,” came his quick reply. “I just thought you could use a little cheering up.”

He leaned back in, whispering conspiratorial into your ear now. “I was hoping you would join me . . . on a date . . .” His eyes glowed as he let his words sink in. “But if you’d rather sit in here and sulk the rest of the night, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Like . . . a date, date?” you asked, feeling a little bit of the weight leaving your chest as hope bloomed in you.

“Precisely.” His smile stretched ear to ear. “There is someone I need to collect a debt on and the weather tonight seems just perfect for such an occasion. I would more than welcome your company.”

You felt your first genuine smile of the day grace your features, nearly matching the wickedness of Alastor’s own features, and that little spark you had felt turned into an entire flood of dopamine.

“Where to?” you asked and Alastor took your head, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, before leading you out the front doors.

____

The prey dragged itself up the stairs, stumbling on every other step and grasping the handrail for balance as he went. Although the rainstorm had kept him from the bars that night, it hadn’t kept him from his personal stache of liquor and in his lonely anger, he had downed several gin and tonics before his stomach began to protest and he had passed out in his armchair. He’d woken up a few minutes ago, his bladder protesting the diuretic effects of the booze. By some miracle he had made it to his downstairs bathroom to relieve himself and then decided it was time to crawl into bed.

He made it to the top of the landing after a considerable struggle with the staircase and almost forgot to the turn the lights off behind him. Fumbling with the switch, he just happened to glance down the stairs as the lights flickered out of existence.

The prey blinked in the darkness, trying to adjust his eyes, as he thought he saw a strange shadow at the bottom of the stairs.

He was sure he was alone in the house and he couldn’t quite be sure of what he was seeing, so he flipped the lights back on.

Nothing.

Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, he turned the lights back off.

And there it was again.

A shadow. Taller and definitely there.

Feeling his heart begin to race, the prey flipped the lights on, certain he wasn’t imagining it this time but as the staircase became illuminated once more, the shadow was gone.

He had perhaps had too much to drink.

One last time, he flipped the switch, inviting the darkness back in, and this time when the shadow came back, the prey swore there were faint glowing green eyes and the hint of a smile playing across its features.

And was it a little closer this time? He had sworn it was at the bottom of the stairs but now it seemed to be a few steps up.

“Now that’s enough of that!” the prey shouted and flipped on the lights.

He breathed a sigh of relief when once more, there was nothing.

Maybe it was best to sleep with the lights on tonight, just to be certain.

The prey turned away from the stairs, leaving the switch flipped in the on position, and came chest to chest with The Radio Demon.

“Good evening, Daniel,” Alastor said, smiling wider as the prey’s face turned several shades whiter. “I see you’ve changed residences.”

“Hey there, Al’ . . . I-I mean, Alastor . . . sir. M-Mr. Radio D-demon,” the prey stuttered, stumbling backwards and just barely catching himself on the banister. “You uh . . . you like my new digs, huh? Paid a pretty penny for it but you know, it’ll be good for business.”

Alastor remained at the top of the stairs, watching his prey make its slow decent down and away from him.

“And who’s business would that be? Certainly not mine, I don’t deal in real estate after all.”

“You know, ha, it’s funny you would say that because I’ve been meaning to talk to you- ”

“You made a mistake, Daniel,” Alastor told his prey, all the politeness leaving his tone, although his smile remained.

The prey swallowed audibly.

“Did you really think going to Zestial, of all demons, would save you from our deal?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re . . . talking abou- ”

“You see, Daniel, Zestial and I may not necessarily be friends, but we are colleagues. And we have an understanding. A certain level of respect for each other, if you will.” Alastor narrowed his eyes and his voice turned cold as ice. “And neither of us like having another Overlord’s leftovers.”

Daniel turned and fled, racing down the rest of the steps with a grace that only adrenaline could provide in such a state of inebriation, though he did fumble quite a bit with the locks of the front doors.

Alastor let his prey make it out the front door before he went in pursuit, though he let his deep laughter follow Daniel the whole way down, enjoying the sweet tangy smell of his fear as it spiked at the sound.

In his panic, the prey forgot all about the inclement weather and dashed thoughtlessly out into the rainstorm and ran down the deserted street. It took a minute for the effects to kick in but eventually he started to feel the itching on his skin and then the burning set in. The prey stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, beneath a streetlamp, and watched as the skin on his hands began to turn red and break out in a terrible heat rash.

With a sob, he dashed under an overhang of a nearby business and shook at the doorhandle, but it wouldn’t budge. He thought about breaking the window to get inside but then he heard that laughter again and the streetlights above flickered and then went out, one by one.

Looking down the street, he watched as The Radio Demon stepped out into view, his antlers now wide and pointed above his silhouette, and turned his head down the street, looking in his prey’s direction.

A smell wafted off of him, even from this great distance. A dank, swampy, animalistic smell. The musk filled the prey’s nostrils and burned his sinuses, and he knew it was the smell of a predator about to pounce.

“That’s alright, Daniel, go ahead and run. Please do.”

To the prey’s horror, Alastor began walking quickly down the sidewalk, completely unaffected by the burning rain. His limbs and entire body stretched out and elongated with every step, closing the distance between them faster than previously possible, until Alastor was a towering demonic presence chasing down the street after him.

“I like my meals warmed up!” he shouted, and the prey screamed as he took off again.

It was either face the rain or be eaten and the prey chose the rain as it sprinted down the street, screaming and crying out for help but not a light flickered on in the buildings as he passed them.

Eventually the burning became unbearable and the prey darted blindly into the nearest alleyway, praying to Roo herself that there would be some shelter to hide in and protect him from the rain.

And there it was, a small overhang by a bar’s backdoor, with a conveniently placed dumpster to hide next to that blocked his view of the street.

That was where the prey found you, standing innocently by the door, shielded from the rain, and he didn’t question why you would be there on a night like this. He only fell at your feet, clinging to your legs and shaking, his hands and face now beginning to blister, his tears hot and stinging his flesh as they fell down his cheeks.

“Please! Please, help me! Let me in! Please! He’s going to eat me, please!”

“Who is going to eat you?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head as you considered the pathetic demon at your feet.

“Alastor. Th-the Radio Demon. He . . . he . . .” the prey fumbled for words, his sentence trailing off as he risked peaking up over the top of the dumpster and seeing nothing but an empty street at the end of the alleyway.

“Oh, right. Him,” you said, nodding. “Well, that’s his thing, isn’t it? Going after demons that try and break their deals. Especially ones like you, who preyed after helpless young women when he was alive. Isn’t that right . . . Daniel?”

The prey’s breath caught in his throat as he glanced over his shoulder at you, a new kind of fear lighting his eyes.

“Who . . . who are you?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“That’s not important,” you scoffed. “Who was the girl you raped and left for dead in the park on the night of your 18th birthday? Or the sex workers you then tortured and killed and left their bodies out in the desert? Do you even remember their names? Do you know how many family members are still looking for their daughters, sisters, mothers?”

“I don’t . . . I didn’t . . .” he stammered, getting to his feet now.

“You did. No use denying it now, Daniel. Not when Alastor and I are so . . . very . . . hungry.”

A crackling noise, like the sound of several joints popping at once filled the air, and the prey looked up and up and up as he saw Alastor’s gigantic form peeling away from the darkened side of the building, turning from nothing but shadow into a very corporeal and deadly form before his very eyes.

Behind him, you shoved at his back, forcing him to fall onto his knees into a puddle of acid rain.

Then you stepped out from under the cover of the overhang, letting the rain soak your hair and clothes, and the prey looked up at you with renewed horror as he realized the acid water had no effect on you either.

“Please,” he whimpered and then began to scream as Alastor bent over and lifted him into the air.

You watched as the prey’s tiny body was lifted higher and higher until the rain and the shadows hid him mostly from view but you could still hear him screaming. Then there was a crunching noise and a wet sound, followed by a thin stream of blood that fell from the sky.

The screaming continued.

“This will be quite unpleasant until it’s over,” Alastor’s voice said from high above you. “But my darling companion does love the taste of demon heart.”

Another sound of stretching and tearing and then you saw it; the warm mass of your meal falling towards you, and you reached up and caught it with skilled precision.

With the prey’s heart now in your grasp, you brought it to your lips and took an eager bite, never minding the blood that ran down your forearms and coated your lower face.

The screaming above you came to a sudden halt with the sound of one final loud crunch and just as you were taking the last bites of your own meal, Alastor was standing before you.

His antlers were still larger than usual, their six points gleaming beautifully in the dim light of the alley, as rain ran down them in rivulets, soaking the red and black hair beneath them.

Alastor gave you a loving smile as you swallowed the last bit of heart.

“Feeling better, my love?” he asked.

“Much,” you said with a satisfied sigh. “Thank you.”

He reached a hand out, wiping away a bit of blood from the side of your mouth with his thumb, though he had hardly succeeded in getting it all.

“You always look positively stunning like this,” he said as he brought his bloody thumb to his mouth and gave it an appreciative suck.

And there in the rain and the dark, you and your lover shared a private and tender kiss, the perfect ending to a perfect date.

Tag list for part 2? It will be smutty.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #the radio demon #alastor

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thetriumphantpanda · 2 years ago

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nobody sees, nobody knows

Alright, here we are, me adding my two cents into the dbf!Joel trope which we all love so much. I've read so many incredible fics like this so hopefully mine can stand up with them all. This will be a series, so strap in for more of our favourite neighbourhood DILF.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Back to Texas with a degree under your belt and a school girl fantasy to fuck your dad's best friend. What could go wrong?

Warnings | I mean, dbf!Joel comes with his own warning right? Other than that, swearing, alcohol consumption, age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), dirty talk, and fingering.

Word Count | 3.3K

PART 2 | MAIN MASTERLIST

There was something about summer in Texas that just hit differently. The way the heat crawled on your skin from the moment you woke up to the moment you tried to sleep at night. The way your father used it as an excuse to cook primarily on the grill, regardless of the food, and the way your mother always made sure the fridge was stocked with cold drinks. The way traffic seemed to cease to exist during the high points of the day, meaning you went to the store every day at midday to buy ice cream. The haze you got from sipping cold beer by your parents’ pool which made you want to do reckless things like you’d done in New York before you realized that the beady eyes of your parents would be all over you if you tried. Reckless things like tell Joel Miller you’d wanted to fuck him for years.

Every time you’d come home from school, and he’d be there you could have sworn he’d just gotten more and more attractive. The last time you were home, for Christmas and New Year’s, you could have sworn he’d started at the gym, his biceps bulging in the arms of his fitted t-shirt, when your dad commented on it, he's chalked it down to particularly heavy lifting on the job he was working then. He’d had his hair cut in a way that made his face even more handsome and you’re pretty sure the last few times you’d been home he’d noticed how you’d flourished too.

There were moments where you’d catch his eyes as they drew themselves up your legs, or the time you decided to test your theory and wear a low-cut top and your best bra to a dinner party. His eyes had trained on your chest for most of the night, there was a moment where you’d stood up and leaned over the table to pick up the salt instead of asking him to pass it. He’d choked on his drink and your dad had slapped his back to try and help him. At least you knew he was thinking like you.

Neither of you had tried crossing the line though. Past the point of no return. You wanted him to make the first move, save yourself the embarrassment of rejection if it came, but it felt like waiting for Joel Miller to kiss you was like waiting for rain in the drought Texas was currently experiencing. Useless and disappointing. You wished sometimes that you could burrow into his brain and figure out what it was that he was really thinking about you. You suspected there would be some code of honour he was sticking to because you were his best friend’s daughter – sure it might complicate things, but you weren’t going to be back in Texas forever – what was the worst that could happen during the secret, torrid affair you’d been cooking up in your head since you arrived back from college a week ago?

“Did you hear me when I spoke to you?” Your mother’s voice pulled you from the daydream you were having whilst polishing the cutlery.

“Sorry mom, I was miles away.”

“I know!” She exclaims, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you since you came back, you’ve been away with the fairies,” She sighs, “I said, once you’ve set the cutlery out back can you help your dad with filling the fridge with the beer, please?”

You hum in agreement which is enough to send her back to the endless chopping she seems to be doing at the kitchen counter. It was just a cookout with the Millers and few other family friends to celebrate your return, but you think your mother thinks she’s catering for a garden party at the White House with the number of sides she’s preparing.

You make quick work of the rest of the cutlery, wanting to avoid any more questions about why you seem miles away all the time – you can’t exactly tell your mother it’s because you’re thinking about how Joel might eat your pussy.

“Need any help, old man?” You greet your dad in the garage, he’s on his knee’s pulling out bottles of Budweiser to stack in the fridge.

“Here, grab these and start putting them in,” He’s smiling, he’s always been an overly happy and laid-back man, “I hope we’ve got enough in.”

“How many people are you expecting?” You chuckle, taking a bottle from him to add to the growing number already stacked on the shelves.

“Probably ten or so,” Hu shrugs, “But one of those people is Tommy Miller and he’s not changed a bit since you’ve been away.”

“Between your drinks and mom’s sides we could host the entire neighborhood.” You joke.

You continue to fill the fridge up with drinks until there’s no room left. Your dad stores the leftover crates next to it for refilling throughout the evening, “Now, go and make yourself look nice, everyone’ll be here soon.”

You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t picked your shortest and lowest cut dress for the evening. It was a pale blue colour, with pink flowers dotted about the material. It fell to your mid-thigh and you had to keep reminded yourself to kneel down instead of bending over, in case people who you didn’t want to look caught an eyeful of the scant lace covering your ass.

There are a few people milling around already, cold beers in hand, mainly some of your dad’s older friends, who have all congratulated you on graduating and then moved on to talk about mundane neighborhood gossip.

“Now, where is that smartass?” You hear from the sliding doors; it’s Tommy and he’s bounding over to you to give you a hug.

He scoops you up into a bone breaking hug, “Congratulation’s girl, your dad said you graduated top of the class!”

He’s set you down and you can see Joel standing awkwardly next to him, “He’s exaggerating, I wasn’t top, although pretty close to it,” You turn to Joel, “Hey there.” He bends down to give you a one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek.

“Good to see you back, sweetheart.”

“Good to see you too, Joel,” You chirp in response, “Where’s Sarah?”

“She’s at camp for the first part of the summer,” He explains, “Back in a couple’a weeks, she’ll be thrilled to see you again.”

“Boys!” Your dad’s booming voice interrupts your conversation, “Good to see you both!” He turns to you, “Why don’t you go and get these two some beers, I need to speak to them about fixin’ up the attic.”

You turn quietly and head for the garage. Of course, you’d become waitress at your own welcome home party. It takes no time at all for you to come back with three beers, two for the Miller brothers and one for yourself. You hand them off wordlessly, but you don’t miss how Joel grips the bottle just above your fingers, brushing against them. Of all the places for him to grab the bottle, that couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

The rest of the evening goes by as expected. You spend most of it running around helping your mom set the food out, fetching more beers for everyone and trying to field questions from everyone about what you’re going to do in Texas with an MA in Archival Studies. You bite your tongue every time, and reply with something like, “I think I’ll probably work in an archive.”

The night is winding down, your mom already in bed having finished her wine too quickly, your dad sat outside in the quickly fading sunlight with Joel and Tommy and a few other stragglers. It fell to you to make aa start on the dishes, which is what you were currently doing. Rinsing them off over the sink before stacking them in the dishwasher, pausing long enough each time to take a sip of lukewarm beer.

“They got you tidyin’ up your own party?” You hear from behind you. It’s Joel.

“I’m the only one sober enough not to break anything.” You shrug without turning around to face him.

“Seems a little unfair if you ask me, sweetheart.”

“Well, why don’t you make yourself useful and help?” You counter, “Then I can be sat outside drinkin’ beer with you all.”

You hear his boots on the floor and then he’s next to you, reaching around to grab the pile of cutlery on the side, he opens the dishwasher further to put the cutlery in their designated tray and then stop, “Has no-one ever taught you how to stack a dishwasher?”

You pause in your rinsing to look up at him for the first time, “What do you mean?”

“This is awful sweetheart,” He chuckles, “You’ve got the bowls and plates in the wrong place – you’ll be doing three washes if you carry on like this.”

“Well, go on then, maestro, show me how to stack it.”

He’s unloading everything you’ve put in so far, apart from what you suspect he thinks was his expertly placed cutlery, and you’re watching as he’s stacking in completely differently to you. Annoyingly he’s not wrong, the way he’s doing it means you’ll likely fit everything in at once, “Can’t believe you’ve lived on your own for five years and didn’t learn how to stack a dishwasher.”

“Joel, I was in a dingy studio apartment in the ass end of New York, you think I had a dishwasher?”

“Well, consider yourself taught now, I don’t ever wanna see a dishwasher looking anything less than perfect, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Mr Miller.” You watch as his eyebrows raise at your new greeting, oh. He liked that.

He picks up your almost empty beer bottle and hands it to you, “Go on, down the rest,” He’s grinning, “Then go and sit down and I’ll get you a fresh one.”

You decide to push it a little further, “Yes, sir.” You watch as he swallows deeply at your words before you’re brushing past him, far too close than necessary to go and sit down.

It’s another hour of sitting around in the garden before everyone else is gone – Tommy is finishing off his beer and telling Joel he’ll be heading to his to crash.

“I’m going to call it a night too,” Your dad says, “Stay and finish your drink though Joel, there’s no rush, I’m sure this one can keep you company with her stories from New York.”

And then you’re alone with him, finally. He’s taking a long drink from his beer bottle, which you mirror, realizing suddenly that you didn’t eat much, and you’ve drunk far more than you probably should. You’re not drunk, but there’s a pleasant buzz through your body that’s making your eyelids a little heavy.

When the light goes off in your parents’ room, you figure it’s safe, “I’ve seen you staring at me, you know.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, “You make it hard not to, sweetheart.”

“Do you want me, Joel?” You don’t know where you’ve come from all of a sudden, but this confident girl isn’t someone you recognize.

“It ain’t a question of wantin’ you sweetheart, it’s a question of doin’ the right thing.” You watch as he rubs his hand over his forehead in frustration.

“But you do,” You push him, “Want me?”

“Course I do,” He’s swallowing thickly again, just like he did in the kitchen, “But I can’t have you.”

“Says who?” You pry.

“Says the fact that I’m one’a your dad’s best friends, not to mention far too old for you.” He’s looking at you and taking another big drink from his bottle, like if he finishes, he can leave you alone.

“No-one has to know,” You shrug, “Could be our little secret?”

“You been readin’ too many of them romance novels,” He snorts, “It don’t work like that, if they find out they’ll fucking kill me.” He’s tilting his head to the window of your parents’ room.

You stand from your seat opposite him, walking around the table to stop just in front of Joel, “Come on Joel, have a little fun for once.”

There’s a moment where you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, trying to weigh up being shot for touching his best friend’s little girl and finally satisfying the craving he’d wanted for a while now. Then, he’s putting his bottle down on the floor next to the chair he’s sat in. You watch closely as he shifts his position to sit more towards the edge of the chair, before one of his hands reaches out to grip the back of your thigh, just above the crease of your knee.

“You’ll be the death of me,” He mumbles before he looks up at you, “C’mere.”

He’s pulling gently on your leg as he shifts back in the seat, guiding you so your hips are straddling his. You try not to press yourself too fully into him just yet, letting your clothed heat rest above his lap. One of his arms comes to wrap around the back of your waist, the other tangling in your hair at the back of your head whilst he looks at you with eyes that say he wants to devour you.

“You gonna kiss me, Mr Miller?” You ask, innocently.

“Oh darlin’, I’m gonna do so much more than that.”

His head is tilting to the side and looking up at you from your higher ground, perched on his lap. Then his lips are on yours and God all those years of longing were worth it. They’re pressed tentatively against your own, but you can feel they’re slightly chapped. His hand resting in your hair grips a little tighter and he’s moving your head slightly so that when he opens his mouth against yours it’s the easiest thing for you to open yours right back and let his tongue into your mouth.

You let out a gasp, swallowed into his own mouth when his hands drop back to your thighs before they’re trailing up the small skirt of your dress to cup the cheeks of your ass, “You wear this for me?” He pulls away, speaking before he’s trailing his lips along your jawline, “Thought you’d get me worked up in this tiny little thing, naughty girl?”

“It worked, didn’t it?”

He huffs a breath out of his nose as if to say, of course it did. He’s trailing his hot mouth down your neck now, dragging his teeth along your skin before licking with his tongue to soothe any red marks he might leave. Your head is thrown back as his hands drag you down so you’re sitting flush against him. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his jeans when your clothed pussy makes contact with him.

You’re whining as his hands are on your hips under your dress, the hot skin of his hands setting fire to you, “What do you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his tongue trailing down to the valley between your tits.

“Fingers,” You rasp, “Make me come with your fingers Joel.”

He lets out a low chuckle against your skin, “Needy little thing, already beggin’ me to finger fuck her.”

But he’s already obliging your request, one of his hands is moving down from your hip to the front of your panties, running his thumb over the material from top to bottom, “God, I can feel how wet you are already,” You look down and he’s grinning, “I’m gonna take these off, sweetheart, but you gotta promise to keep quiet okay?”

You nod in agreement before you’re lifting your hips up, just enough for Joel to hook his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pull them down enough so his hands can touch you. He mimics the same movement he’d done over the material, this time his fingers touching the bare skin of you seam and he’s groaning when he feels the slick gathered near your tight hole.

“God, you really are wet, aren’t ya?” He chuckles, a flush creeping over your cheeks, “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about sweetheart,” He reassures, “Means I’m doin’ somethin’ right.”

You feel one of his thick fingers slip inside you, just a little, before he’s dragging the slick he’s gathered up to run light touches over your clit. You bite down on your lip to keep you from crying out into the dark, hips bucking into his hand to try and get more friction from his fingers. He takes the hint and is pressing his finger more firmly into your bundle of nerves and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to keep quiet.

When Joel’s hand drops from your clit you almost cry from frustration, put then he’s sinking two of his fingers straight into your soaking pussy and the relief is palpable. He’s moving them in and out of you, curling them in just the right way that has your hips moving in time with him, literally fucking yourself on his fingers. You let your head fall into the crook of his neck, placing kisses to his skin as you ride his fingers.

“This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks, his free hand coming to cup the back of your head against his neck, at least this way you could make some noise – testing out your theory you let out a throaty moan, listening carefully as his skin muffles most of the sound.

“I need… god Joel, my clit, please.”

With his fingers still buried inside you, working you to the edge, his thumb moves to your clit, resuming the circles his finger had been drawing over it before, “I can feel your pussy gettin’ tight around my fingers,” He’s turned his head so it’s buried in the hair at the side of your head, “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

You push back from him a little, looking down between your bodies where you can see his hand working you and that’s really all it takes. Your legs are shaking and you’re biting down on your lip hard enough that you can taste blood as pleasure bursts through you – not even you had made yourself come like this. Ever. Joel’s fingers have stilled inside you, but he’s still tracing your clit with gentle movements of his thumb, reveling in the way you jerk through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Did so well for me, pretty girl.” He coos at you once he’s pulled his hand from your pussy.

You’ve collapsed onto his chest to catch your breath, but you’re already subconsciously grinding your hips into his, God you want more. You’re about to reach for his belt when you can feel something vibrating in the pocket of his jeans.

He’s mumbling an apology, lifting you just enough to fish his phone from his pocket. He answers without looking at who is calling. You can hear Tommy’s voice through the phone from your place, draped over Joel’s lap.

“You just turn it to the side, jackass,” Joel is mumbling in answer to Tommy’s question on how to work his shower, “You’ve used it a million times,” Tommy say’s something you can quite make out, “No, not that one, the one underneath it,” Joel is sighing, “You were not this drunk when you left, if I find you’ve finished the good whiskey I’m gonna kill you,” Another sigh to a question you couldn’t quite hear, “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Disappointment is pooling in your stomach. You don’t want him to go, not when there’s so much unfinished business here, “I gotta go, sweetheart.” He’s mumbling, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“But what about this?” You ask, reaching between you to cup his cock through his jeans, “Let me help you.”

His hand is gripping your wrist, “I would love nothin’ more, but I gotta go before Tommy floods my house,” Another kiss to your lips, “Next time.”

“You want to do this again?” You ask, almost surprised.

He takes the hand that had been buried in your pussy not minutes before, lifting the fingers he’d fucked you with to his mouth before sucking them right in front of your face, “Now I’ve gotta taste for you, sweetheart?” He raises an eyebrow, “Of course I wanna do this again.”

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abbysimsfun · 2 months ago

Text

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 103 (Lavender is Adorable & Malcolm Follows a Lead)

Finally back home after the end of Winterfest break, Conrad caught Heather looking at her ring with a grin while she cleaned up the kitchen. "Did you think you want to set a date yet?" he asked.

She grinned, practically giddy against his charming smile. "Still no."

He laughed, heading into the living room to play with Lavender, where she sucked her slippered toe and chewed her toys. She'd sat up on her own on Boxing Day morning, but she was still more comfortable getting a bird's eye view of the world. Conrad and Heather didn't want to push her; she'd pull herself up with regularity when she had places she wanted to get to.

Heather got dressed and returned from the bedroom to find Conrad chatting with Lavender on the sofa. "It's so much fun to crawl around, sweet girl. You're gonna want to try it soon. I know it."

Heather smiled. "I thought instead of breastfeeding, I could help Lavender explore foods this morning."

Conrad set her up in the high chair as Heather opened a jar of crushed carrots. But Lavender was totally uninterested, batting away the spoon and sticking out her tongue, ejecting the orange mush from her mouth with a grimace.

Heather sighed. "I think we have a picky eater on our hands."

As it turned out, Lavender hated the texture, and sometimes the taste, of most baby foods, so Heather kept breastfeeding. "When she's ready for finger foods, maybe she'll be less picky," suggested Conrad with a hopeful smile.

Lavender's three infant quirks: Loves Wake Up Time, Picky Eater, and the lesser-noted Frequently Hiccups (because it's been mostly inconsequential since Lavender's such a happy baby).

Soon enough, Lavender was upright all the time, and Heather and Conrad chalked it up to her wanting to be tall enough to hang with Gord. The beloved Bernese loved Lavender, often moving in for pets from Lavender's tiny palms. He offered nose rubs in return while the infant giggled wildly.

Conrad, meanwhile, had chased too many leads for Rafa to precisely nowhere, and Ximena had stayed undetected throughout the holidays. As far as Rafa was concerned, he was beginning to fear he was looking for another dead body, but he couldn't let himself rest until he knew for sure.

Trying to relax in the living room with his family, he took a call from Zion Spangler. "George and his wife extended their time in Sulani," reported the young detective. "He won't be coming home for questioning any time soon." Conrad hung up and rubbed his temples in frustration.

Heather frowned in their crowded living room. Ash was practicing a speech for class in the mirror and Lavender was playing with Gord, so she couldn't talk to Conrad about the case. He hadn't shared much, but the police detail lingered outside their home and the clinic, so she knew Ximena was still at large.

She wanted him to be able to find Rafa. She knew how much it meant to him, and how it tore at him not to be any closer to learning what happened. They were both ready to put all of this past them.

In San Myshuno, Malcolm had done some digging into the murder at the docks from his penthouse. Law enforcement wouldn't speak to him about the confidential file, but he'd managed to uncover George Brindleton's shady investment in the company's crooked books, and tracked down the man himself at his tropical villa in Sulani.

"Thank you for talking to me today, Mr. Brindleton. I gather with your secrecy, you don't talk to many reporters."

"This is off the record," grunted George. "I want to get to know you before I tell you anything about my work. You are a Landgraab, after all."

He frowned. "Malcolm's fine."

"I told the detectives I don't know a single damn thing about a murder at the docks. I'm a good businessman and I know where to trim the fat from my investments. Demand. Supply. It's not my fault that for the first time in decades, someone died of anything other than old age or rabies in Brindleton Bay."

"Do they think it was someone from your company?"

"No, they've asked what we know about some cartel called Los Tigres. Hey! Hey Rafael, bring me another soda with extra lime!" He turned his attention back to Malcolm over their video connection with a sneer. "The wait staff at this villa is horrible, but the booze is strong and the sun is hot!"

Malcolm curled his lip at flagrant George Brindleton, taking note of the name of the cartel. "I'm sure the wait staff would be better at a more expensive villa, Mr. Brindleton."

George sneered. "You're a punk reporter, I see. Think you're better than me just because you've got that Landgraab elitism running through your veins?"

Malcolm shrugged. He'd always been a snob, and most people were right when they called him an ass, but he'd found reasons to smile after becoming a father and marrying his wife. He didn't want to spend his night arguing with an angry old man. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. Brindleton. I think I have everything I needed from you, but if you have more to say, by all means, call the news station anytime."

"What does some big city national reporter want with a story about a body in Brindleton Bay, anyway?"

"The story is important, but my son lives in Brindleton Bay. On a personal level, I care that he's safe, and if your company isn't doing their job, I think my mother would love to know there's an open business opportunity at the docks. Demand and supply, and all that."

"You have a son in Brindleton Bay?"

"I do. The local vet is his mother."

George froze as the waiter named Rafael approached with his drink.

"Your son is Heather Nesbitt's son?" He stammered. "Listen, there's no need to start a competing security company in Brindleton Bay...as a matter of fact, I'm gonna tell my guy to go back to the old schedule, effective immediately, so don't even bother."

George ended the video call with a click. The names of Heather's kids had been redacted in the restraining order, but the order had covered the school and the daycare, as well as the house. It's not like he really needed to be able to single them out from any of the other squealing brats in his town - despite his threats outside the courthouse, he preferred to stay away from all of them.

George was more focused on the bigger picture than scaring kids - asserting his importance to the safety of Brindleton Bay served him far better. He'd expected a rise in hooliganism, not a murder, when he pulled his guys from the docks, but the sequence of events had played right into his hands while he sipped cocktails in the sunshine.

He had no reverence for most of the Brindleton Bay Police Force. They'd been in his pocket for decades and they needed him now more than ever. But the Landgraabs were a bigger fish than any he pulled from the Simlandia Sea in his fishing days.

He smiled, taking the drink from Rafael. "Thank you, amigo. Here's a tip to keep 'em coming."

June stood and pleaded with her husband. "Don't drink all morning, George!"

"Don't tell me what to do, June."

Rafa smiled. "Yes, sir. I'll bring round number two before you fall asleep in the lounge chair again for your afternoon nap."

With the Sulani sun beating down on his forehead, George Brindleton considered what he'd learned from Malcolm Landgraab. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Some may recall my side project to flip Malcolm's evil trait to good. That hasn't happened yet but he has added cheerful as a bonus trait - Snob, Evil, Music Lover, and Cheerful is who Malcolm is right now. Good-hearted Miko helping change him is maybe sorta slowly working! He did finish with George and did the evil cackle animation because George was mad and he reveled in it, however...

WCIF Serving Poses: @tenyrasims' Serving With a Smile Posepack and @someone-elsa's cocktails tray accessory (also available at the link). Seriously fantastic, thank you so much for creating and sharing this! it's exactly what I was looking for when I needed to shoot this scene.

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 legacy #sims in bloom #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 legacy #ts4 screenshots #sims 4 story #ts4 story #legacy challenge #sims legacy #ts4 legacy challenge #gen 2 #brindleton bay #sulani #san myshuno #malcolm landgraab

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heartlogan · 5 months ago

Text

crawling in circles

✮— logan x f!mutant!reader (au of wolverine goes to hell)

✮— summary: you go through hell for logan

✮— a/n: i read half of the graphic novel wolverine goes to hell, and in combination with an idea that the wonderful @captain-tch gave me for a mutation, i came up with this

✮— warnings: reader’s mutation is to do w necromancy / similar to it. she can bring people back to life & potentially control them, reanimating dead bodies, communicating with spirits / souls, DEATH, hell (literally), canon-typical violence, blood, religious images (literally including hell, demons, etc), probably weird pov shifts, a mixture of graphic novel elements & my own, not technically hugh’s wolverine, kind of ambiguous past relationship w logan, not proofread

MASTERLIST

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No matter how many times you traipsed your way through this place, it never got any easier. The weight never went away, always staying pressed on your shoulders, making you drag your feet behind you. This place was made for suffering, and you weren’t immune to it.

Even though this was your gift, your soul had come far too close to being trapped in hell more than once.

It was for balance, you supposed. The universe couldn’t allow you to simply traverse through hell and pull souls out without some risk of consequences. Bringing people back had to be difficult, had to come with some amount of challenge. Especially because it was more permanent than your ability to reanimate bodies.

Cheating death was a risky business, that was for sure.

Everything in this place was made to keep you here. From the literal demons, to the walls and ground that ensnared tortured souls, each being was here to make you suffer alongside them. Nobody was supposed to leave hell.

But still, here you were, not for the first time. Fighting against the way the screams made you want to curl up into a ball on the ground, against the way the air seemed to burn down your lungs, slowing you.

Your own sins lingered down here, flashing at the edges of your vision, taunting you. You had learned long ago not to try looking for them, because it was a slippery slope. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard. Being here made you want to face them, made you want to prove that you were good, somehow, despite knowing that you weren’t. You had done terrible, awful things, and one day, you’d end up here permanently. There was no denying it. The proof lingered in your periphery.

Honestly, you dreaded the day. But you were lucky in some ways, as you’d be able to prepare yourself for what was to come, which most others couldn’t.

Even thinking of these things distracted you, made you stray from your path. Luckily, you caught yourself before you got too far, and hurried to correct your course. It was far too easy to get lost down here, to let the laughter pull you from your path.

You focused on your mission. Find Logan, and guide him back to the real world. It shouldn’t have been as difficult as your other missions to this place, seeing as he wasn’t actually dead. His soul was lost, displaced by a demon who wore his skin. You could help with both of those things, but only if you found him.

Unfortunately, you had a good guess as to where he would be. And you didn’t like it.

It wasn’t every day that souls were brought here while still alive, so you imagined the leader of this world had something to do with it. He must’ve had some kind of fascination with the infamous Wolverine, as so many tyrants did. And from everything you knew about Logan, there was plenty of things down here they could use against him.

You knew his history, despite how much he had once tried to hide it. To hide from it, really. There would be hundreds, if not thousands, of souls down here hellbent on getting revenge against the mutant.

Suddenly, you heard a yell, one that reverberated the floor below you. Or at least, it felt that way.

It wasn’t hard to find where it had come from, and you leant over a cliff edge to witness someone from Logan’s past standing before him, speaking gravely to the man as the devil himself brandishing the soulcutter. Logan looked exhausted already, and you knew he hadn’t technically been in here for very long, but you imagined it felt like years to him.

Hell’s very own leader stood over him, ugly face pulled into something that almost resembled a triumphant smile. It sent a chill down your spine, but you were used to it. It happened every time you saw that beast. Despite knowing his reign on the throne was precarious at best, it didn’t stop the shiver of fear that he caused. Logan was far braver than you.

“Nail our friend to the wall. Let him think things over for, say, a few thousand years.”

You watched two of the demons carry Logan away, and swore under your breath. This would take longer than you’d have liked.

”Hey,” A voice called to your right, and your head snapped towards it. It was a man you vaguely recognised. He had begged you to take him back with you more than once. “I know a shortcut.” He told you, face creased with something that almost resembled hope.

“Show me.” You told him, voice rough, throat rubbed raw from the air that you were forced to breathe.

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Seeing him in pain was never easy for you, but it had been all Logan had known for so long. This… this was on another level.

Nailed to a cross, an X, ironically. He looked drained. Your eyebrows creased, pity and sorrow threatening to consume you. You reminded yourself of who he was, what he had done, and why you were here before you got too caught up in him again.

“Logan.”

His head lolled upwards, glazed eyes struggling to focus. He looked even more defeated at your appearance, somehow, as he murmured your name with a kind of resigned tone.

You rushed to him, Puck lingering behind you, and your hands were holding his face tenderly before you could even think to stop them. His eyebrows furrowed, and he tried to pull his jaw from your palms. “No, no more tricks. Ain’t fallin’ for it anymore.”

“I’m not a trick, Logan.” You told him quietly, feeling your emotions swell in your chest. Anger, sadness, pity, resentment, and lingering somewhere underneath, love.

“You’re…” He paused, his eyes focusing slightly as he shook his head. “No, no, you—you died?” The dried blood on his wrists flakes off, replaced with fresh droplets when he pulls slightly against his restraints.

Despite yourself, you smiled gently at him. “I didn’t die. You know my powers, don’t you?” You asked, rhetorically really, but he stuttered out an affirmative answer anyway. “I’ve come to get you, Logan. With a little help.” You added, nodding your head towards where Puck was watching the two of you with a rapt interest. He glanced away quickly as though he hadn’t just been staring, before he trained his gaze on Logan.

“Gotta say, old man, you’ve looked better.” Puck greets, barely giving Logan the chance to simply utter his name, let alone form a response. “Listen to me, Logan, all hell is watching you right now. You wanna get out of here, you wanna help me, help Mariko, then you have to keep fighting.”

Logan’s face turns away from him, and you fight the urge to hold him in your palms once more.

“He’s right. Every demon down here is waiting to make a move for the throne. Every time you defy the big man, the whole place gets a little closer to bubbling over.” You explain, having learnt the politics of this place from your many journeys here.

Puck turns to walk away, but looks back with a grave expression. “I’ll do what I can to help you. Just don’t let him break you, Logan.”

It doesn’t take long for the wounds on him to heal, though it would be far faster in the real world. He slumps against you for a moment, and it’s lucky that you’re stronger in here than you are up above. But then you realise that he isn’t as heavy as you’re used to. He must have reverted back to his form before the Weapon X procedure, before the adamantium. It only convinces you further that he isn’t the weapon he believes himself to be. After all, this is his very soul, revealing his true nature to you.

You let him lean on you as you follow Puck from a distance, carrying half of his weight for him. Despite the lack of metal skeleton, it isn’t easy. He’s made of muscle, even here. But you manage, reminding yourself that if he had only allowed you to help him like this in the real world, the two of you could’ve survived. You decide to savour it, despite the situation.

“Why are you here?” He asks you, seemingly having regained some strength, but still leaning on you nonetheless. You think that it’s so you can’t see his face, can’t see some kind of vulnerability.

Your hand around him squeezes gently. “Because the world isn’t done with you yet, Logan. Not by a long shot. We need you.”

“But you… you always told me that coming here to bring a soul back was wrong.” He murmurs, recalling the topic that had been the subject of so many arguments you had had with the man. It had been a source of contention within your relationship. Or, one of.

“You’re not dead.” You state simply, but it doesn’t feel like enough. It doesn’t really encapsulate the real reason you’re here. Because the truth is, even if he was, you’d probably be here regardless. Carrying his weight, pulling him away from an eternity of torture and suffering. Using your power to bring him back.

He huffs out a breath. “S’pose not.”

“If I’m gonna try and take both of you, we’re gonna need to distract the big guy. Tip the scales of this place.” You say after a few moments of silence, your eyes focusing in on Puck’s distant soul. You can’t see the man himself, but his soul glitters in the distance, catching your eye and reminding you of his presence, of his desire to escape this place.

“So, we’re goin’ to start a revolution… in hell?” He asked, almost disbelieving, but he knew better than to be surprised by you, at this point.

“Hell yeah.” You responded, snickering to yourself, savouring the way Logan huffed a laugh through his nose.

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The revolution had taken place, and the multitude of demons populating the realm were all grappling for the power left over. There was no clear winner, not yet, and you counted on it staying that way for as long as possible in order for you all to escape with your souls intact.

“This way.” You said urgently, diverting Logan and Puck from where they had been sprinting towards the towering walls that surrounded the realm. You went to the left, sticking close to the wall, until you found a certain cell. It was an old woman, who had been in hell for far longer than you, or even Logan, had been alive. She had become familiar to you, by now. “Now climb.” You said, using the window to her tiny cage as a foothold, making your way up the wall.

“Quickly!” Puck urged, trailing behind you and Logan, anxiously looking back.

“Don’t look back. Don’t let them grab you.” You told the two of them, grasping a chunk of the squishy wall in one hand and pulling yourself up, narrowly avoiding the hand that reached for you as you did. “It’s not much further!”

Logan slashed away three arms that were trying to grasp onto him, still managing to stay right on your six, whilst Puck lagged below, still looking back every few seconds, as if expecting a demon to come and pull him from the wall. The ground was far away by this point, so much so that looking down would’ve made you dizzy.

The limbs still grappled uselessly from their prisons, a chorus of voices singing out prayers and begs for the three of you to help them, or to stay. “Hey!” Puck called out suddenly, eyes wide as you looked back once, only to watch him get pulled from the wall.

“No! No escape from the pit!” The voice that the arm belonged to said, scratchy and old and full of resentment.

“Puck!” Logan called after him, reaching a hand down towards him to no avail, he was already falling.

“Logan! Keep going!” Were the last words either of you heard from the man, his voice becoming quieter as he neared the ground. It was so far away that you couldn’t see it through the darkness that surrounded this place.

The two of you had no choice but to keep climbing, until you suddenly stopped.

Logan could only watch with some confusion as you plunged your hand into a section of the wall and pulled, until a gap started to open up. It leaked light, a thing that was so rare in this place that all of the arms reaching for the two of you shied away. Even Logan felt himself flinch at the sight, his eyes squinting, but adjusting quickly as the gap opened wide enough for you to climb into.

He lingered outside as you pushed the walls, fighting the very matter of hell until Logan could just about squeeze into the gap. To his surprise, it opened up into a barren landscape, filled with a bright light.

It made Logan realise that he had never seen this perspective of your power. He had never been on the receiving end of it, had never had you guide him through hell to somewhere else, somewhere better. The glow that surrounded you made you appear as angelic, though he had never found any kind of faith within him. He’s pretty sure that this image could change that.

But then he notices it, the downside.

His eyes zero in on the way the skin of your hands cracks, tips of your fingers charred as though burnt by the very walls of hell. Your jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as you pushed the opening back together. As soon as it got near enough, the wall simply sewed itself together, like the passageway had never been there.

In the light, it only looked worse for you.

You were clearly in pain, the expression on your face reminiscent of the one that you’d held when Logan had left you behind. For a moment, your eyes were unfocused, gazing at something beyond him. But then you snapped back, your attention suddenly razor-sharp.

“C’mon. We have to keep moving.” You told him simply, before marching across the barren land. Logan had no choice but to follow in your confident footsteps.

It felt as though the two of you had been walking for hours, though your steps hadn’t faltered once. He trailed behind you like some kind of lost puppy, his eyes rarely straying from your form. He didn’t want to get lost in here, and he certainly didn’t want to lose you. But you might’ve known something that Logan didn’t, considering the fact that you had never looked back towards him.

“Okay, Logan, it’s time.” You said as you slowed to a stop, though he couldn’t figure out why. There was no landmark, no anything. It was no different to the landscape the two of you had been traipsing through for the past however long.

But there was a kind of finality in your expression.

“Wait. Now just hang on a second,” Logan said, a note of pleading in his tone. His expression just barely betrayed the desperation he felt. You said nothing, only quirking a brow at him. “Why?” He asked, his brows furrowing slightly as he looked at you, eyes haunted by his past. By your shared past, too.

“I already told you—”

“No, no, there has to be something else. Some other reason for you doing this. You told me you wouldn’t ever do this again. So whether I’m alive or dead, what does it matter?” He asked pleadingly, his voice strained. The skin of his neck was pulled taut over the veins there, and you could see the signs of him getting worked up. He didn’t understand. He didn’t believe in anyone doing anything without an agenda, without some hidden motivation.

And the longer you looked at him, the clearer it became. He was still stuck in the past that the two of you had shared.

The past where he had left you behind, where he had told you that no matter how much you loved him, or he loved you, it would never be enough. He couldn’t see past the expression on your face that day, the way everything about you just dropped as though he had tossed some invisible weight at you.

Logan had broken your heart, that was true, but it didn’t change anything.

“It matters because I love you. And even if that’s not enough for you, it is for me.” You admitted, the words said gently, though they clearly packed a punch to him.

The infamous Wolverine didn’t know kindness, or unconditional love. It wasn’t something that had ever existed to him, not really. Everybody who came to him wanted something, whether it was disguised as kindness, or not. Even the X-Men only approached him because he was an asset, and though love had bloomed there, it didn’t change how the roots were laid.

So this, you, seemed impossible.

He had always believed you were too good to be true. Even when he argued with you, disagreed on the uses of your powers, he was always conscious that you deserved more than what he could give you. Just look at what had been awaiting him in hell — every bad thing he had ever done was in one place.

But then… you came anyway. You came, and you travelled through the ranks of every life he had ever taken, you looked his sins in the eyes and you didn’t blink.

You pulled him out anyway. Why? For love?

“I broke your heart. I left you.” Logan stated blankly, staring at you incredulously, as though he was waiting for you to realise that these things were true, and send him back to hell.

“And yet the demon who possessed your body came to kill me. Which means you, in some capacity, loved me.” You responded, smiling at him with pity crowding the creases of your face. A part of you was expecting him to deny that, but he didn’t.

Logan shook his head. “I… I have always loved you. I just refused to ruin you, to cover you in the blood I got on my hands.”

“I would’ve taken it, Logan. I would’ve let it all stain before I washed you away.” You told him sadly, your chest aching with every word you get out. If only he would have had this conversation all that time ago, if only he would’ve realised that you didn’t care about stains, or him ruining you. You would’ve been happy, so long as you had him.

But it was too late now.

“Come on,” Logan stared at your outstretched hand as you spoke, unable to bring himself to meet your empathetic gaze. “We’re out of time.”

He grasped your hand with his own, despite the flecks of blood that were still tacky on his skin.

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