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pathologicalreid · 3 months ago

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central nervous system | s.r.

in which you are drugged on what should've been a routine case

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; hurt/comfort content warnings: being drugged, threatened sexual assault, season 10, blood, broken glass, in a bar but reader doesn't drink, jareau!reader. word count: 1.7k a/n: oh dear. this week was so eternally long. work was crazy busy i worked overtime and almost ended up in the hospital which all led up to me taking the lsat today. crazy shit, but margovember will prevail. also! i'm hoping to get masterlists updated tomorrow if that's something you've been waiting on.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” an unfamiliar voice intrudes on your private thoughts, looking around the bar that you had been planted in to see if you could catch your UnSub before he had the chance to attack someone else.

He sets a glass in front of you, and you drop some cash on the wooden surface, you shrug, “I’m in town on business.”

The bartender laughs heartily at your response before shaking his head, “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just—that’s a line I hear a lot.”

Your face warms at the recognition that the bartender was flirting with you, but this is a man who gets paid to be nice. You take his words at face value and sip at your drink, “Well, I have no reason to lie to you,” you squint at his name tag, “Jackson.”

He wipes down a spill, hooking the rag over the sink, and smiling at you, “Well, it’s nice to meet an honest woman.”

Following him with your eyes as he walks away, that last comment rubs you the wrong way, but Jackson Gleason was the bar manager, and Garcia had already cleared him from the suspect list.

You find yourself wishing Hotch had sent you into the bar with an earbud to communicate with the team, but instead, you were handed a phone, preprogrammed to alert the team if you hit the power button. There was a plainclothes officer somewhere in a corner to keep an eye on you, and the rest of the team was at the precinct or in an unmarked van outside.

Kate had coached you to the best of her abilities, but this wasn’t your first time going undercover. Catching serial rapists was more her speed, but she was pregnant, which immediately took her out of the running. Sipping from the thin straw in your glass, you let your eyes wander around the bar, antique posters and advertisements are littered across the walls, and someone just started playing Radiohead on the jukebox.

Eyeing the phone in your purse, you sigh, stirring the ice in your cup listlessly.

“Can I get you another? Maybe something stronger?” The manager offers, returning from the employees-only door with a new package of straws to restock the bar.

You shake your head, holding your empty glass out of him to take, “The same thing is fine.” Ignoring the fact that you don’t drink—you couldn’t drink on the job; all you’d been given was a coke.

He raises his eyebrows at that, “Suit yourself,” he says, ignoring the fact that you were trying to hand off your already dirtied glass to him and filling a clean cup with ice and coke.

Brushing it off as company policy, you thank him for the drink, placing another few dollars on the bar and smiling at him. Over your shoulder, you glance at the plainclothes officer, engaging in an animated conversation with another patron over whatever sports game is playing on the TV. You suspect he’s a little too good at pretending to be off the clock.

You make a face at the straw in your glass, and the bartender notices, “Sorry, just ran out of plastic.”

Taken aback, you use the paper straw anyway, sipping at your drink while you still can—knowing the straw will inevitably disintegrate.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice something wrong, a dull ache in your chest exacerbated by a slight rise in your body temperature. Your fingertips feel hot like they would after coming inside from the cold. You look down to find the emergency phone in your purse, but your head droops with your eyes, every controlled movement before a struggle.

“Hey,” Gleason says, jutting his chin in your direction, “You don’t look so great.”

A different version of yourself would’ve given him snark in return, but that different version of yourself would’ve been able to feel her extremities. “Woah,” You breathe, trying to swing your legs off of the stool only to find that you’re much higher from the ground than you initially thought.

When you lift your head again, whipping it back so hard you’re afraid it might fly off, he’s standing directly in front of you, “Why don’t I take you out back? You can get some fresh air,” the offer is innocent enough, but it rubs you the wrong way. His hand is on your waist, at the very least you know that’s wrong—you have a boyfriend, and it’s not this guy.

No, your boyfriend is outside of the bar in a van, waiting for your signal because you’re… oh. “No,” you whisper, trying to get your breathing under control. “I’m— Where’s my phone?” You’re digging through your purse as he stands you up and guides you to the back of the bar, closer to a large exit sign.

Sirens are going off in your head, but even they sound separated from your situation. “I can call a cab for you,” he assures you, leading you by your arm and closer to the back door.

“No,” you say again, “I really need my phone…” his grip tightens on your wrist, practically dragging you out of the bar while you use your free hand to find your phone, pushing the power button before it slips out of your hand, clattering to the ground. “That really hurts,” you tell him, now able to give more of your focus to evading the man who was most decidedly not Jackson Gleason.

Pulling your arm back, you manage to break free from him, the momentum from your struggle sends your hand flying into a picture frame, shattering the glass and causing the UnSub to spin on his heel. “Look at what you did,” he seethes, gripping your hair at the back of your head and forcing you to look at the shattered glass.

Your mouth gapes at the sensation of your hair being pulled until there’s a rush of cold air and he pushes you forward, into the waiting arms of someone else, “Woah, hey, I’ve got you,” Spencer says, keeping you off of the floor and, with the help of someone else, carrying your dead weight over to one of the booths.

Spencer clambers into the booth seat first, seating you in front of him so that your back is pressing against his chest. You let out a low groan when he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping your body from flopping onto the sticky hardwood.

“Do you know what you took?” He asks, pressing his face into your hair so that the two of you can keep your voices down.

Vaguely aware of the way his fingers are pressing into the pulse point on your wrist, you shake your head, “I didn’t take anything.”

He hums in response, “You were drugged. I— I’m so sorry we didn’t realize who it was sooner. By the time we realized there was a discrepancy in Jackson Gleason’s file, you had already pushed the alert button,” he tells you, being careful not to move around too much. “Can you lift your head for me? It’ll help your breathing.”

With tremendous effort—and some help from Spencer—you lift your head, letting it rest on him. Now, you can see that the majority of the bar has cleared out, Rossi watches you nervously from the bar, telling Spencer something about paramedics. You huff, “Where’s JJ?”

“She’ll meet us at the hospital, love,” he answers you, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

Trying to adjust yourself, you shake your head indeterminably, “No, it’s… I need my sister. I need my sister.” Somewhere—a past version of yourself, perhaps—you knew that JJ was at the hospital, speaking with one of the survivors.

Spencer speaks with someone that you can’t see, they’re standing in your periphery, a mangled blur of a person. Moments later, something cold is pressed to your face, and the sensation makes you jump, “Ow,” you whine, though it doesn’t hurt.

“Ducky?” Your sister’s voice rings through the phone, and you’re surprised to hear her using your nickname. Although, your status as JJ’s little sister tends to come through when you’re hurt.

You hum into the receiver, “Hi, J,” you greet wearily.

A sigh of relief is her next response, “Hey, Derek said you’re waiting for the paramedics to take you to the hospital, and I’ll be here to greet you when you arrive. Does that sound alright?”

“It’s cold in here,” you mumble, wondering if Derek is the blurry shape remaining in your periphery.

There’s a pause on her end before she speaks up again, “I’m sorry, Ducky.” There it was again. “You’ll be okay though; you just have to wait it out.”

You nod as a jacket is laid out on your lap; Spencer must’ve heard you mention being cold to your sister. Your boyfriend whispers something to you, “Spencer says the paramedics are here and I can’t talk to you anymore.”

JJ laughs slightly on the phone, “I’ll see you when you get here, okay?”

“Yeah, J,” you whisper, letting someone take the phone from you. You frown at Spencer, “I don’t feel quite right.”

Helping you get on the gurney, Spencer holds your hand while an EMT wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm, “He likely gave you a central nervous system inhibitor.”

You nod slowly, wrinkling your nose when the other paramedic shines a light in your eyes, “I am nervous,” you answer. Trying to listen to the medical personnel as they explain what’s going on, but it all goes in one ear and out the other. One of them crudely wraps a cut on your hand to staunch the bleeding, but you couldn’t even remember when it started to bleed.

Anxiously, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t bite down on your lip,” Spencer instructs, “You could bite right through it and not even realize.”

Releasing your lip, your eyes widen at him while he pulls a blanket over your shoulders. “That’s scary,” you whisper.

“I agree,” he says, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “It is scary.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot #margovember

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januaryembrs · 8 months ago

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just rewatched 4x24 amplification so here’s a silly thought

reader and spence get stuck together & reader just flirts with him the whole time and he’s like ‘please help me in finding something to go off of’ and she’s just like ‘anyone ever tell you you look good all sick and sweaty reid’

meanwhile penelope is on the verge of a panic attack

PRETTY | Spencer Reid x Reader

description: Spencer seems to be the only one keeping it together when the two of you get hit with the new Anthrax strain.

length: 450wds

warnings: anthrax, sweating, intoxication, flirting

“How’s she doing?” Penelope asked, her voice crackly and quiet through the phone as Spencer rooted around the office for the cure to whatever strain of Anthrax their UnSub had cooked up.

He took a shaky breath, feeling his hair sticking to the back of his neck with the sweat that gathered there. “She’s…” He trailed off, flipping a look over his shoulder where you were leaned against the desk, your head a little wobbly and heavy as you strained to keep yourself upright, “She’s hanging in there,”

“Did I ever tell you how handsome you are with the long hair, Reid?” You slurred, sounding somewhat drunk as you spoke, no doubt a byproduct of the fever, and he hoped you weren’t in any pain, since you didn’t seem in any state to complain. You seemed euphoric if anything, judging by the intoxicated grin on your face as you reached for him, your hands lightly sheened in sweat.

“Yes, you did,” Spencer replied, his cheeks burning with more than the high temperature that he was running, “Multiple times. Sweetheart, do you reckon you could help me look for the cure?”

“Sure!” You hopped away from the counter, almost throwing yourself to the ground in your excitement, and you felt the room spinning as you reached up to the cabinet above his head to search for the medication, “When this is all over, you gotta let me put some cute braids in it or something, Spence, I mean you’re really missing a trick-”

“Ofcourse, you can put the prettiest pigtails in my hair, the second we find that antidote,” He promised, his agile fingers flicking through every drawer in the cabinet, despite the fact his chest was pounding at your flirtatious tone.

“Reid, that does not sound like she’s hanging in, that sounds very much the opposite of hanging in there,” Penelope rushed through the line, her fingers whizzing across her keyboard, the clicking clear through Spencer’s speaker, “She wants to primp you like you’re little girls in a playground, Reid, that is not hanging in there- oh good heavens I think I need a happy place right about now,”

“I’ll say,” Spencer said where his head was in the fridge, rooting through the packs of diet coke and sparkling water the scientists had. He felt fingers rooting through his hair, and he sighed as he glanced up at your dazed expression, because he hated telling you no, “Cure first, honey, then you can braid my hair,”

“Right! Right, sorry it’s just so pretty, you’re just so pretty-” You mumbled, helping him empty out all of the files onto the floor so he could start skim reading.

He hoped for his own sake the paramedics close.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler x reader

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shellxrls · 3 months ago

Text

— r. cameron / reader

warnings: DUBCON — rafe roofies and then rapes reader / unprotected PinV / misogyny / mention of drugs (cocaine & roofies) / mention of virginity / inspiration taken from maddy & nate (euphoria)

synopsis: rafe cameron x fem!reader… sometimes rafe needs to slip a girl a little something at a party to get some, and where’s the shame in that if he knows they want him anyway, they’re just too prudish to admit it.

After you’ve successfully been dosed, he makes you sit on his lap for lack of space on the couch so he can rock you on his knee until you’re tired, delirious, and horny enough to be lifted upstairs, legs dangling against his broad back while you hiccup and giggle next to your upside-down view of his chest.

His nose is numb from the coke and his brain heady, one could argue almost as inebriated as you. But the lines make him oversaturated, not cock-dumb like what he slipped you — eager hands already pawing at his zipper and coming to a fumbled close around the metal just before you’re tossed onto a bed, spread aloof like the crumpled sheets.

“You’re sooo nice to me Rafe.. when all the other guys were sayin’i shoulda gone home,” you end with a belligerent nod of your head, slurring throughout and biting your lip in sexless embarrassment, chewing the skin raw enough to reflect your torn consciousness instead.

Rafe simply smirks, chin protruding outwards while his eyes flit between your thighs peeking through your overridden dress and your tits falling out of the frilly décolletage.

“You a virgin?”

“Mhm” you lie, despite the reeling dizziness occupying your headspace. Besides, nobody likes a whore — especially not rafe, uninterested in ‘stretched out pussy’ as you vaguely recall from his earlier conversation crowded around friends.

He approaches closer now, knocking your trembling knees apart with one of his beefy thighs, bulge forward and creasing in his pants as your dialogue gets him hard already, imposing his physicality in all its glory: “What like— you’ve never even been fingered before?”

You shake your head, tousling curls before staring back up at him, “Only my own.”

To that he chuckles, the noise grating and stunted when he uses it as an excuse to adjust himself in his pants, drawing his chest down further until he’s now hovering above you.

“Uh y’know,” he tongues at his cheek, “I could take care of that for you, practically all spread open an’ready huh?”

Like it wasn’t his plan to get you dumb and stuffed by the end of the night, even if it meant bringing out his inner brute, he was taller, faster, stronger — he could do it if he really wanted, but he made it easy for you instead. Could feel the roofie worming its way into your consciousness, jamming rationality and flooding you with hedonistic desire that would trigger your sex endorphins and make it so that you would want this, that he could brag about it without you opening your bitch mouth the next day and claiming ‘rape’; an ugly word anyways, coming out harsh in a spit, nothing like what rafe was doing to you, especially not with the way you were looking at him.

Your mouth opens, then closes, seemingly flailing on confirmation when really your jaw is getting slack and numb, and so you feel encouraged to nod instead, the movement making your thoughts go all bubbly, refracting Rafe’s glinting eyes at your ‘consent’.

He wastes no time with prep, shoving your dress up so it’s tucked over your tits, basal temperature remaining warm and stuffy despite the exposure to cool air. A good indicator though, means rafe can tell it’s working, and just how long he has before you might start struggling.

When he pulls himself out of his shorts it’s surprising, of course, everything about him is pretty, one would expect a tangible reflection of the cruelty on his features but instead, his dick looks cutesy, if not for the intimidating size.

Spit trickles harshly down his palm when he wraps a hand around himself, tugging quickly and using both his legs to split you around his midriff, leaking and achy despite the inattention you’ve received.

“You want this dick so fuckin’ bad huh,” he laughs at the puddle of arousal leaking out underneath you, considers swiping a finger into it to stick into your mouth but he doubts you’d be able to breathe right now if he interfered with the half catatonic features on your face, and it’s not like he’s out for that type of violence anyways (or at least not right now).

When he pushes himself inside you’re silent, pupils retreating in favour of a squeal — ironically a very Rafe-esque trait — while Rafe bites down into his cheek and rolls his palm over your chest to ease the pressure of the fit.

“Thought the roofie woulda loosened you up a bit..” mumbled out while his stomach clenches, now bracing his entire heavy arm across your abdomen and pinching skin when you involuntarily quiver at the weight, “You can take it c’mon.”

He thrusts hard and uncoordinated, fucking like he knows he’s hot, or at least how many more pills he has left in his stash. Knocking against your insides and entirely focused on the way his dick feels, knowing how easily he could move onto another victim, and just how much he wants to enjoy you in particular before it’s over.

Sweat clings to both your bodies, the slick getting louder when each thrust manages to pound a squelch out of you, spattering against the sheets or catching on Rafe’s balls to stick the both of you together with messy tendrils.

You’re pliant, let him move your legs so your ankles entwine behind his back, heavy hand locking them together and giving you both little breathing room; just enough for him to spill obscenities straight into your emotionless face with hot, sticky breath — he laughs, manically and seemingly at his own joke, before deciding to share it with you, “just don’t go running ‘bout me ‘assaulting’ you right. You wanted this, not my fault my cock’s so good the slut has to go dumb hmm?” mocking you with a teasing lilt and a raised brow.

You pat at his swollen chest, it’s all you can manage to do, urgent to get him off you, give you a little space atleast. He only shoves himself in further, lips puckering to sloppily catch yours, saliva straying down your chin and jaw instead.

Your outright discomfort seems to get him going even more, thrusts increasing in increment despite becoming more careless, tip catching your clit when he slips out and hurries to stuff it back in.

When his face pinches up, brows tensed and nose furrowed, you can tell he’s going to cum, the friction between your bodies almost unbearable with the heat that suddenly envelops him.

A slew of curses are hissed out, casual vulgarity being one of Rafe’s favourite expressions of self, and then he’s pulling out and wrapping a fist around himself to paint your tummy white. Ropes shooting watery on your tummy and painting him a proud picture.

He shakes himself off on you a final time before tucking his wet dick back into his briefs, cleaning himself up entirely unbothered by the dissected mess of you laying drugged and fucked out on the bed.

“My head feels funny.”

“Yeah, that’s cause I fucked it out of whack.” He says it serious but you can imagine his upturned lips at his own sick sense of humour.

“Where are you going?” you sit up groggy, chest tight.

“Uhh, back downstairs, got some more yayo I needa lay off— you can stay here or.. wherever, doesn’t matter.”

He has the decency to shut the door fully when he leaves, yet you’re still alone and forced to lay in the waste of one of Rafe Cameron’s nights out.

#divider made by me #cw noncon #cw dubcon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x reader smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron blurb #obx smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine

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moon-and-candlelight-0501 · 30 days ago

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Five Times Daisuke Didn’t Fall for her Touch (and the one time he did)

A/N: The warnings make this look so much scarier than it is lol I promise this is VERY vanilla. Yeahhh these were supposed to be just a couple smutshots but I got way too into the story. I’m a sucker for fwb.

story is supposed to have a kind of beachy setting, but picture it as you will.

Wc: 4.3k

One - Remembering the important things. Such as (but not limited to): Dates, places, names, articles of clothing, jewelry, words that were distorted by pleasure

He had met her at a party, or she was watching from the sidelines of the baseball field. Actually, it might have been through a mutual friend on instagram. Whatever, whenever, wherever it had been, he knew he wanted her.

He knew he wanted her when her tanlines peaked out from the green halter-top she wore (or maybe it had been orange?)

He knew she wanted him when her fingers ghosted over his for longer than needed— just to pass a water bottle, or something of the sort. Her fingers left dripping condensation on the coke or sprite bottle, and Daisuke knew she wanted his warmth too.

Daisuke’s assumptions were proven correct when she pulled him into her apartment to “make a change of clothes”, and in all fairness they do technically get halfway there by the time they reach her unmade bed. [Name] is mumbling apologies into his lips — something about her strewn clothes across the room — but Daisuke is feeling much too hot and bothered to care or even notice.

They needed to meet their friends at a bar in an hour, but the way they got down you’d think they were already running thirty minutes late. He couldn’t help it (he also couldn’t deny that he wanted nothing more than to spend hours exploring every inch of [Name]’s sun-kissed skin), they only had so much time together and he needed to get off, like, now (and, fuck, she’s so warm. Maybe it’s the high temperatures, but whatever it is, it’s getting him there fast).

“Shit. you’re tight. Fuckkk, g’na cum quick”

“Dai, pull out-”

And he does nothing less than to oblige immediately. He finishes himself with his hand, cursing under his breath as he does so. When he looks back towards [Name]’s bed, she’s looking straight through him whilst leaning back against her forearms.

“You uh… you didn’t like, finish, huh?” Daisuke asks softly.

“Nah, but you’re good. I don’t have to- shit!”

He’s on his knees faster than she can register it, gently spreading [Name]’s legs apart for easier access.

He’s far from experienced, tongue only just missing her clit every time he ran it up and down. [Name] is quick to guide his head though, right over where she needs him.

Experience he didn’t have, and it was evident, but eagerness? That he did. And it was working for [Name].

Lost in pleasure, [Name] didn’t even notice his hand tracing its way under her thigh and towards her entrance. He slipped a finger in, moaning softly at the warmth he had missed. [Name] on the other hand was practically singing for him, choking out moans into the back of her hand when he slipped another finger in.

“Fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck…”

He snaked his unoccupied arm under [Name’s] thigh, pushing it up and allowing him to hit new spots inside her. His choices were met with the sweet reward of her gasps, followed by barely coherent words.

“Shit Dai, keep doing- keep doing that… oh my god… don’t change anything jus- just keep doing that.”

When she finished with a squeal, Daisuke pulled away quickly, giving [Name] some space to cool off. Wordlessly, she sat up and scanned the messy bedroom while Daisuke collected himself, shoving his cargo shorts and t-shirt over his body.

“m’gonna change before we leave” [Name] finally stands up, snatching an orange floral bikini and some mini shorts on her way to her bathroom.

It’s a small apartment, and Daisuke finds that simply stepping outside of the room, he is met with her living room that he had not had the time to appreciate earlier. It wasn’t an eyesore or anything, but it definitely had personality that he was too busy (for lack of a better word) earlier to notice before. A large cork board with photos of [Name] and friends, more clothes scattered over the sofa (He’s starting to add up that [Name] is very picky about her outfits), an ashtray in the shape of a sun resting atop a dark oak side table. On the table, there's what seems to be the first strokes of green paint over it, as if she had started the project but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the time. His analyzing is interrupted by [Name] finally leaving her bedroom, now in a pink and orange striped tank-top and light-blue jean skirt.

“You have a nice apartment.” Those are the first words he says after having sex with her within less than eight hours of meeting?

“Uh… thanks? You ready to go?” [Name] asked, grabbing her keys and wallet off the less-than-half-painted side table.

When she takes the lead out the apartment, Daisuke pinches his nose bridge in embarrassment and shakes his head at his own words.

The walk to the beach bar was silent, Daisuke preferred listening to cars and bikes passing by, the birds flapping their wings, and music fading in and out as they strolled past different shops and restaurants. He was burning up, and couldn’t tell if it was because of the high UV or current situation he was in. Granted, it was a short walk. Before he could reach to open the bar doors, [Name] reached for his wrist.

“Daisuke, we’re, like, cool? I mean, it was a nice time but I don’t want to make anything weird or… different… we’re cool?”

Her warm fingers were still on his skin, no different than before. So, Daisuke pulled his hand away from hers and gave her a thumbs-up with a smile.

Two - Following Alcohol Runs and Nicknames, Fogged up Windows are to be Expected

In his cheap Toyota, they have cheaper small talk. The weather, school shopping, all the works. Daisuke hopes that [Name] doesn’t notice the soda stains on his gray microfiber seats, or the smell of weed disguised by his “Caribbean Colada” scented tree hanging from the rearview mirror.

“Dai.” [Name] breaks the silence, and Daisuke freezes up in the driver's seat. “I’m glad I saw you tonight. It’s been a while, I was starting to miss you.”

It’s not like he was trying to avoid her. As the summer died down, the memory of that end-of-June (maybe it was early July?) afternoon did too. Different one-night-stands and complicated almost-somethings made that day seem to just be another drop in the pile of summer flings building for the both of them.

“Shit.” It’s like something snapped in him, Daisuke makes a quick turn behind a Walmart that had already closed for the night. He parked in the middle of the large space, and immediately rested his head against the steering wheel, eyes shut. “Uh, Dai?” [Name] called, but he only groaned against the steering wheel and ran a hand through his dyed hair, “fuckkkk”

“Daisuke. You’re freaking me out a bit.”

He mumbled a few more curses under his breath before raising his head to look at her with those deep brown eyes. Even in the dark lighting [Name] looked so hot. Yeah, she had opted for a zip up hoodie, but by now it had fallen off her shoulders, and Daisuke noticed the very low cut purple tank top she wore under.

“M’sorry” He said against the steering wheel.

“For what?” [Name] leveled her face to meet his eyes.

“Nothing was supposed to be different. It’s just, I dunno. You said my name, and like, everyone calls me Dai, but you just say it some type of way. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

By now Daisuke had turned away from her, but [Name] knew what he was feeling. He got fucking turned on from her saying his name. Well, his nickname. And in all fairness, she understands. The only time she had ever called him “Dai” was when he was between her legs.

Well, she thinks, they’re behind a Walmart after-hours, it’s dark, and no one’s around anyways. What’s another sexual encounter before school starts?

Daisuke felt a hand gliding up his thigh, and he whipped his head around to face [Name].

“I think I need to return the favor from last time” She did her best to speak seductively, but had to bite back a cringe at the fake voice. For Daisuke though, he was way too into it to care.

“What do you mean?” He has to resist the urge to hit himself on the head for this question, but [Name] just chuckles and shifts her body to face him from the passenger seat.

“Dai, just put the seat back.”

Deciding it’s best to not speak, he listens and lies back against the seat, waiting for [Name] to make her move.

“So pretty, you know that?” She praises him as her palm only ghosts over the denim covering his bulge. Daisuke let out a shaky breath, and [Name] decided they really didn’t have any time for teasing. With Daisuke’s help, his jeans and boxers were pulled down in a blur, and [Name] grasped his cock from the base, gently of course. As she leaned over the console, she gingerly kissed his tip and was rewarded with a strewn moan from Daisuke— who was clearly very sensitive, judging by how quickly pre had collected on his tip. [Name] doesn’t waste any more time and takes all that she can of him in her mouth. Daisuke swears he’s died and gone to heaven, completely lost in bliss.

“Fuck, [Name], you’re so good. Feel so good. God, just like that, you’re so good. So pretty.”

He doesn’t say it, but [Name] could feel Daisuke twitching in her mouth and knew that he was about to finish, so she pulled off and looked at his wrecked face. He had a hand tangled in his own hair, mouth open and eyes screwed shut as he whined out, “No, no no.”

He looked almost betrayed at her, eyes glossy like he was about to cry. “Why’d you stop?”

[Name] only chuckled and pressed his chest down onto the carseat, crawling over his legs and going in to kiss him, “Close your eyes, Daisuke.”

The kiss was anything but slow, Daisuke nearly shoving his tongue into her mouth and whimpering against her lips. He only pulled away to moan when her hand found its way back to his cock, stroking him softly. His hips bucked up into her hand, causing her to bounce, giving Daisuke a nice view of [Name]’s tits in that low cut tank.

[Name] sped up her strokes, and Daisuke was practically arching into her touch, the only word he could repeat was “Please, please, please, please.”

When he finally came, most of it dribbled down to his thighs, but a particularly far shot splashed onto [Name]’s tank top, causing Daisuke to ramble apologies as he was still coming because she was still working him through it. when all calmed, [Name] slipped back into her seat and properly zipped her hoodie up.

Daisuke also got himself decent, and they both just sat in the heat of the car.

“Your windows fogged up.”

“Yeah…” He scratches the back of his head in embarrassment

“Nothing's different right?”

And this time, Daisuke was confident in his words,

“Nothings different.”

Three - Ashtray is Put to Good Use (And so is an Art Major)

“Shit, Dai.”

[Name] had her bare back draped over the arm of her couch, the cool leather sending shivers down her spine. Daisuke was above, her waist in his grasp as he placed open mouth kisses trailing from her collarbone down to her abdomen.

“Who taught you about foreplay?” She chuckled and reached for the sun-shaped ashtray on the side table behind her, pinching a near burnt-out blunt between her fingers.

“I’ve gotten some experience in since last time” Daisuke mumbled against her skin, and looked up at her with a coy smile. [Name] rolled her eyes and blew smoke towards him, to which he responded by pressing two fingers against her core through her lounge shorts.

“Fuck.”

Normally she would never be this sensitive, but the weed and the way she was practically on display for him made every nerve spark ten times brighter everywhere his touch lingered.

It was Thanksgiving break, and [Name] had a fat blunt that might as well have been rolled to share. All friends were home or on their way home, except for Daisuke.

It’s not like he didn’t miss his parents, but maybe he didn’t dwell too hard at the first google search revealing that there were no flights home available. Maybe another month to prepare before dealing with the inevitable questions about his future, followed by food being shoved in his face, wasn’t the worst thing to happen.

Not when he could be here instead, between [Name]’s legs. And when she unravels while calling out for him, fingers gripping harshly onto his grown-out roots, for a moment everything is just the same as the first time he went down on her, his head is void of deadlines and applications.

“Damn. Definitely better than the last time.” She teased while pulling up her bottoms, as Daisuke leaned over her to take a last drag from the joint. He hovered for a moment, before she guided his jaw towards hers and spread it slightly to shotgun the smoke. When he pulled away, [Name] tapped his chest lightly, as to signal that he give her some room to sit up, “Thanks.”

“I mean, it wasn’t for you…”

“Hey not that this wasn’t great, but are we gonna keep taking turns going down on eachother or are we actually gonna fuck again at some point?” [Name] disregarded his statement, and Daisuke scoffed before sitting back comfortably against the couch,

“I mean I would. But I’m like actually hungry. Munchies, man.”

[Name] rolled her eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor, making her way to the kitchen (it was only on his way home the next morning that Daisuke realized it was his t-shirt she had picked up, and forgotten to return, resulting in an awkward shirtless drive in the middle of November)

“Not that your decor isn’t great or anything, but your side table kind of throws it all off.” Daisuke chatted to her from the couch.

“Eh, I didn't see the point in finishing it. Didn’t have the right supplies, or patience to see it through. Like you said, great decor.”

��You have the paint still?”

“Yeah, Why? Gonna put that Art Major to work?” [Name raised an eyebrow at him from the kitchen, as she grabbed a couple different varieties of chips.

“I dunno. Maybe.”

Four - Broken Heaters and Absent Roomates Aligned

“Thanks for letting me crash, Daisuke.” [Name] sighed, as she threw her duffel bag to the side somewhere beside his second-hand couch. Daisuke nodded, “Yeah of course. They said the freeze is supposed to be pretty bad. Wouldn’t want you sitting in your apartment with a busted heater.” Without words, [Name] acknowledged that any traces of roommates were missing. It was still only just after New Year’s, and Daisuke was clearly the only person who made a beeline to get back on campus.

1:25 AM, and [Name] had only managed an hour-or-so of sleep. She groaned and pulled the thin blanket Daisuke had oh-so graciously provided her with over her shoulders and made her way towards his bedroom.

Her fingers were shaking as she pushed the door open, she could just barely make out Daisuke’s sleeping silhouette, and the edge of his bed. Deciding she had little to lose, [Name] crawled into the bed and shook him by the shoulder slightly.

“Dai. Dai, wake up. Don’t freak out.”

She was only met with a groan, signaling that he was only slightly conscious. “I’m freezing out there, all you left me with is this thin-ass blanket,” she feigned sadness to get his attention.

“No one told you that you had to sleep out there.” He muttered into his pillow.

“I was trying to be appropriate!” She can’t see it, but Daisuke raises an eyebrow at her remark, as if to say, ‘Seriously?’

“Look, my fingers are basically gonna freeze off”

“Let me see,” Daisuke takes her fingers into his grasp and thinks for a moment, “Feels the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dunno. Your fingers are like, always warm. No different now.”

“Well I feel cold.”

“I know what’d warm you up” He rested his head on the palm of his hand to face her, trying to analyze her face with the little moonlight that hit her just right. She only smiled and lowered her voice,

“Are you serious?”

“If you are,” Daisuke let his head hit the pillow again, and sighed “I’m too tired to move though.”

“God, you’re such a tease. Here, roll over. I’ll get on top.”

Daisuke did as she asked and gave her a loopy smile when she climbed over him.

“So pretty like this.” He ran his hands up and down her clothed sides as she reached into his sleep shorts and gently pulled his length out.

[Name] began to softly stroke him, until he was hard enough to slip in. Daisuke was already huffing out and tightening his grip on her waist. She lifted herself up a bit to slip her bottoms off, and when Daisuke went to assist, his hand was met with thin silk.

“No shorts?” He chuckled and she playfully slapped his chest,

“Shut up. Are you ready?”

“Mhm.”

[Name] inhaled and sunk herself onto him slowly. Daisuke was groaning at every inch of her core that he felt. When her hips finally met his, [Name] gasped and entangled her fingers with his, pinned beside his head.

Yeah, the sex felt great. It always had. but the view Daisuke had right now, [Name]’s bottom lip caught between her teeth, hair in every direction. He thought she was more beautiful than any beach sunset, late night drive or joint shared between two lonely people. Here, in her oversized tee, was the most gorgeous work of art Daisuke had ever seen, sat on his dick.

When her hips started rocking to a steady pace, he brought her right hand to his lips and mumbled praises into her fingers.

“So good for me.”

“You’re gorgeous here.”

“Just like that, keep going.”

They finished at the same time. [Name] rolled onto her back beside him, still catching her breath. Daisuke turned his head to meet her eyes, but she wasn’t looking back.

“It’s different.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, slightly panicked.

“We’re at my place this time, you were on top, and you’re staying over. In my bed.”

“Yeah. In your navy blue sheets. Nice.”

“Do you feel different?” He pushed, but her eyes still wouldn’t meet his.

“You told me how I feel, Daisuke,” she sighed “the same, right?”

He nodded and looked back up at the ceiling,

“Warm.”

Five - Finding Comfort in Activities Other than Sex; Baking, Reading, Calling up a friend, Painting, etc.

The biting chill of winter had long dissipated, April showers had passed and May flowers were blooming as they do every year. Pinks, oranges, greens, they bloom before [Name]’s eyes, and it’s almost as beautiful as the days and nights spent with Daisuke.

Almost.

Finals season.

This afternoon pens are scattered around her living room floor, along with forgotten notebooks and sticky notes with words scribbled on that mean nothing to either of them, what matters is their connection, where they connect. Between each other's legs, on [Name]’s brown leather couch. The familiar summer breeze made for a sweaty study-session-turned-hookup, but [Name] is in her element. She’s almost too lost to notice the puffiness on Daisuke’s face, how his eyes are screwed shut, lips tucked in. Almost.

“Wait- Daisuke, stop.”

He halted any movements immediately, all hands off her skin. He was trying to catch his breath and search for any signs of discomfort on her face.

“Is it, um, are you-“

“Daisuke, are you crying?”

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it is, you could’ve at least let yourself finish”

The second [Name] saw the smallest tear pricking at his eyes, she pulled herself away from him immediately, and suggested that they both get decent.

“I couldn’t possibly in good conscience hook up with you when you’re clearly upset.” She explained, whilst handing him a coke and taking a seat next to him. Daisuke muttered just a small ‘Thank you’, opened it, and took a drink immediately as if to show that he didn’t feel like furthering the conversation.

[Name] sighed and propped herself up on her palms, “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. But you’re more than just some fuck-buddie to me, okay? I’m not gonna send you home after you clearly had an emotional experience.”

Daisuke took another sip of coke.

“Hey, since we have the time, think you could finish painting my table for me?” She nudged him.

And paint he did. At some point Daisuke wondered how little patience [Name] must have to not complete such a project. Her side table was a standard square one, the hardest part being the wait between each coat of paint. On the third and final, Daisuke finally decided to speak up about the earlier situation,

“My mom got me an internship.”

[Name]’s eyes lit up, “Oh my god! Daisuke, that’s really awesome. Where at?”

Daisuke painted over the last small area that needed its final quote. As he put his brush down, he turned his body towards her,

“Space.”

She laughed.

One - No excuses.

July 27th.

The air was still sweetly sticky with Summer, every fan unit blowing in [Name]’s apartment.

Today, there was no meetup to attend. No late night convenience store runs, no smoke to share, no broken AC unit, and no finals to pretend to study for. There wasn’t an excuse, just an “I’ll be there in 10” text. [Name] dressed herself up without knowing why. It’s another outfit that will be thrown on the floor the moment that boy walks through the front door. She glossed her lips, and rolled her lashes with mascara, but she knew that the gloss would be kissed off within the hour, and she has to hope that the mascara won’t run by the end of the night.

Without much surprise, no words are exchanged when he walks into her apartment. In fact, the door isn’t even closed before her lips are on his. It’s messy. As a matter of fact, she might have missed his lips the first time because pink lipgloss smudged against his cheek, but neither of them seemed to notice.

When they make it to her bed, all clothes are off. Daisuke pressed his lips against her neck as he lined himself up with her. When he pressed in, he started off with strings of praises. But the closer he was to finishing, his words began to sound like whispers of goodbyes.

“I’m gonna miss you, fuck, so much.”

It was slow, and careful, and nothing like the first time. And when he kissed her, it was like he was trying to make up for every individual day he would be gone on that goddamn ship.

“I love you.” Daisuke whined as he came with her. [Name] pretended like she didn’t hear.

They didn’t exchange words that night. Both of them took turns cleaning themselves in the bathroom, and then crawled into her queen bed. It’s not weird to hold a friend who you won’t see for a while, so that’s what they did.

Daisuke woke up first the next morning, [Name] still in his arms. The sunlight had already begun filtering in through her blinds, and it made her look majestic. He took this time for himself, to trace shapes on her bare back. To brush the hair from her face, and memorize her features. When she stirred awake, [Name] did her best to avoid eye contact, a common tactic she used in these situations. Surprisingly though, Daisuke believed this was his first time seeing her anywhere near bashful. He kissed the top of her head before speaking,

“It’s all different now.”

And [Name] almost winces. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Daisuke chuckled and pulled back from her a bit, “No, it’s different.”

“Why though?” [Name] sat up now. She was trying to salvage anything left of what they had. Trying to salvage the year they had, as if she could make it extend, and they could stay 22 forever.

“Because I don’t expect you to let life pass you by, waiting 382 days for your friend-with-benefits,” he explained, “but up there, It’s like I’ll be frozen where I am now. When I come back down, I’ll still feel 22. I’ll still want to leech off my parents and drop important things just to do stupid shit like painting a table.”

“It’s only a year.”

“A year that I will only be able to think about you the entire time. As long as I see the sun I’ll think of the summer I met you, and as long as I see the moon I’ll think of how you took me in my own car, or how you crawled into my bed that January night.”

Silence fell between the both of them now that there were no more words to say but goodbye. Leave it to Daisuke to find something else though,

“Why’d we do this anyways?” He asked, more directed towards himself than anything. Still, [Name] replied,

“Why’d I keep the side table I was never gonna paint?”

#authors first time publishing smut #daisuke #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke smut #daisuke FREAK #daisuke x reader #daisuke mw #daisuke juarez #daisuke x you #daisuke x female reader #daisuke x y/n

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thesilmarillionblog · 8 months ago

Text

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 9

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: +18!(MINORS DNI), heavy angst, hurt, male masturbation, language, Soldier Boy is an asshole, PTSD, mention of drugs, mention of torture

Word Count: 4290

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

Ben's chest began to feel colder beneath your fingertips, and the intense glow gradually subsided. Ben continued to stare at you in a way that defied explanation. It amazed you both that you were able to prevent the dangerous warmth in his chest, or perhaps he was controlling it subconsciously. But you knew you were the one who diverted his attention. While the heat beneath his body seemed under control, one of his gloved hands held yours on his chest, giving you an intimate look.

You muttered, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. “What happened to you?” Until you were certain he was indeed alright, you ignored the firm grip he had on your hand. You realized that he was probably not the one who intentionally exploded New York and that there was something very wrong with him.

“Well, baby, I'm not sure.” He gently put his palm closer to yours and remarked, “It's probably just a side effect of the things that happened to me in that fucking lab in Russia.”

You persisted by stating, “This looks dangerous, Ben,” despite his attempts to downplay his predicament and his continuous holding of your hands as if you were going to push him at any moment. “You might continue harming innocent people if you don't find a way to stop.”

Ben felt a wave of uneasiness pass over him, and his fingers tightened around yours. Because he was unsure of how to use his newfound abilities, he felt like a freshly empowered teenager, and you treated him as though you were a parent cautioning a careless youngster, which disturbed him and caused a sense of insecurity to take over.

“It's not a big deal,” Ben muttered in a harsh voice, trying to give the impression that he was stronger than this—even though at the moment he didn't feel like it. “As you can see, nothing happened. I suppose you were able to handle this for me in some way.”

You pushed his hands away and withdrew immediately when you verified that his body temperature had returned to normal. Ben scowled at the fact that, in contrast to him, you weren't very excited to be near since you two met again, but he felt as though his body would explode if he didn't get to touch you right away. His balls felt particularly heavy under his supe suit, and he didn't jerk off

for days—actually, years. Maybe you just needed to be alone with him to make a step.

“I think it's best that we remain together for the time being,” you stated in a serious tone. “Ben, it won't be good if you blow up again and can't control yourself.”

When you finally agreed to stay with Ben, he felt a sense of satisfaction that kept him smiling nefariously. He reasoned that maybe his newfound abilities weren't all that useless after all.

Ben grinned slyly and replied, “Course, sweetheart, since you're persisting in being with me that much. It would be better if I didn't stay alone.”

As he scanned your upper body expectantly and dismissed the situation with humor, you rolled your eyes.

“I believe there's a problem with his powers,” you turned to Butcher after you pushed Ben aside before he trapped you again and you sat down on the coach. “It is better if I stay with him.”

“If that's what you want, of course. Because of the situation going on in his chest, his ass gave us all enough trouble.”

Sitting on a coach with a coke in his hands, Ben followed you while you had a small talk with Butcher, his jaw clenching with jealousy, but he didn’t say a thing to make you feel uncomfortable.

Ben said, “It's not a big deal,” with an unkind glare in Butcher's direction.

Butcher said irritably, “It might not be for you, but it's a fucking big deal for us and all the people out there. In addition, I was wondering if the two of you could convince your former buddies to kill Homelander.”

“What?” you exclaimed, stunned. He spoke as though your guys had not always held hostility toward Ben. When he abruptly vanished, they most likely celebrated his absence. “Why do you believe they would offer Ben any kind of support at all? Everyone despised him.”

“Are you able to track them down?” Ben asked abruptly.

“They would hate to see you,” you murmured, your eyes widening in disbelief.

“When I find them, they fucking better piss in their suits,” Ben stated in a stern tone. “Noir will be the first person I'll fucking slaughter out of all of them.”

You cut him off, glaring at him, saying, “You stay away from Earving. You caused enough suffering for them all.”

“Why do you defend those who betray pathetic losers with such devotion?”

Since you've already been through a lot, Ben tried not to lose his temper when he was speaking with you, but he couldn't help but become enraged when he saw you standing up for betraying shitheads over him. He had great intentions for the two of you and was the only one who truly cared about you.

“Not them, Ben, but Vought was the one who betrayed both of us.”

You sighed and tried to seem empathetic and nice so as not to get on Ben's nerves too much because his new powers were already causing difficulties.

“Where were Noir or others when you were in that lab while the doctors were torturing you?” Ben pointed a finger in your face and demanded furiously. “You continue to defend those bitches against me, even though I am the only one who fucking saved you.”

“Ben, I won't argue with you.” With a wink, you teased him, saying, “You seem too sensitive for a proper conversation right now.”

Ben responded, “You are not making me angry, sweetie,” glancing at your body as your smile vanished and your cheeks turned crimson. “I want to take my meat off and jerk off at the moment because of you.”

Butcher replied, “Not on my fucking coach,” as you crossed your arms over your chest and averted your gaze from Ben's keen gaze.

Ben stated, “You tell me,” in a serious manner. “Where am I going to spend a week with Y/N?”

Ben was kind of relieved that he and you were both saved, even though he had not trusted Butcher and the others at all. He would have the opportunity to express how much he missed you in every way and would definitely help you start a second time by spending an entire week with you. You could speak, fuck, and do all of that for an entire week.

Feeling his balls getting tighter under his suit, he shifted on the coach, thinking of you in nasty positions, just like in the good old days.

“The location is arranged. Despite the little place to stay, I believe the two of you can get by for a week without needing any extra care.”

“What about Homelander?” Ben confidently inquired, widening his legs and placing his arm up to the coach, his hardness visible through his supe suit.

He saw you glancing at him and smiling mischievously. You wanted to say something offensive, but you knew that he was utterly without shame right then and there and that he would say something nasty as soon as you talked about his bulge.

Butcher sighed. “He's probably scared the shit out of his pants. Let's give him and you two a short break until the thing that happened in New York and Ohio is forgotten completely.”

You said, uncomfortable, “I don't think it will ever be forgotten, Butcher. Vought will try their hardest to capture us once more since the harm is too immense. They may even be looking for us at this very moment.”

It concerned you that Vought wouldn't just let you and Ben live on your own, unaccountably. It was not what you wanted to return to the lab to be tormented and examined for the future of other supes. But you had no idea how to get out of this difficult dilemma. Ben and the rest of Butcher's squad were not people you would trust with your life, so you realized you needed a plan to protect yourself from what was happening.

You also didn't want Ben to be tortured in Russia again like you were, but his main goal was to take revenge and murder Homelander. Despite never having laid eyes on the man, he was prepared to slaughter him. They would never allow Ben to touch Homelander if Vought was that supportive of him. That meant you had to first convince Ben to cease his collaboration with Butcher.

“People in the modern world are easy to forget, I promise you. Also, they could've already found you two if they had wanted to,” Butcher mumbled, trying to soothe you. “Remember, a week is full of possibilities, so try not to dwell on it too much. They won't remember for very long, and Vought is currently dealing with its own issues.”

When Ben realized how terrified you were of having to deal with the fallout from his actions and everything that transpired, his heart began to melt with regret. He was aware of your constant need for a house, a place where you could feel secure and at home, so it disturbed you to know that you had nowhere to go while Vought looked for you and that you might fall prisoner once more.

Ben understood that it was his responsibility as a man to ensure that you were protected and to keep you away from danger. You needed to spend time together before he could help you forget the unpleasant and harsh things he had done to you. He intended to start over with you, and whatever happened was all in the past. Homelander and Vought weren't that big of a concern, and things would be considerably simpler if he learned to use his new abilities. You were needed by him for both.

You leaned back toward the coach and questioned, curiously, “Why do you want to kill Homelander that much?” placing one hand under your head.

Butcher's heart clenched as a mixture of regret and affection overtook his body as his thoughts were filled with Becca's memories. Not that he even knew if he would survive.

He quickly cleared his throat and replied, “He hurt my wife,” cutting it short.

You understood, judging by her voice, that she had passed away, and you were at a loss for words. Homelander must be Vought's newest evil toy, as they have a history of hurting people and getting away with it. Somehow, you wanted to soothe Butcher, but all you said was, “I'm sorry to hear that.”

Butcher turned to face you, perhaps trying to persuade you, saying, “She is not the only one he hurt and won't be the last. He must die.”

“Even if he dies and you take your revenge, there will always be a new one, and you know this,” you insisted. “When it came to supes, Vought always had a backup plan. In the same way that they treated Ben and me. Not even the power worries them. All they want is a toy that they can play with that is practical as well as obeyant.”

“And they'll fucking pay for it,” Ben exclaimed with hatred.

“Ben, this is not going to end well for us. We are unable simply to overthrow the government or whomever in charge.”

“We'll see about that, sweetheart.”

You sighed, realizing that Ben had already made up his mind and that you two would have to talk about it at another time. He would hurt you once more if he carried on acting recklessly, but based on his actions, it didn't appear like he gave a damn. Even though you knew he was always self-centered, you were disappointed to find that he didn't give a damn about what would happen to you if he kept acting like an enemy of the state.

“Everyone had been told that you were a traitor and that you would be placed in a lab to be tested for potential superpowers. How were you treated by them? What did they do to you?” Frenchie narrowed his eyes and asked with curiosity.

You moved in the coach, pushing back the images in your head as you recalled the horrible memories. But you didn't let others see you as powerless or fragile.

You wanted to smile at him, but the traumatic images were just too overwhelming.

“I guess they kind of wanted to take off my womb to create a natural supe baby, but they simply couldn't as they couldn't go through my skin with their needles and everything,” you said.

While Frenchie was obviously at a loss for words while attempting to comprehend the years of agony you had endured, his face turned white.

Ben tried to dismiss the images in his mind, which ranged from vicious hands on you to someone trying to rip your body apart and kill you, while his heart was filled with hate and fury. He vowed to kill anyone who even slightly assisted in your torture, regardless of whether they were Homelander or Vought.

“Every single of them will die,” he declared with assurance, as if guaranteeing you, his compassionate green eyes locked on yours. “I promise it to you.”

You were briefly stunned, speechless, by the intense expression on his face, but you soon gathered yourself and joked, “It's better if you just do nothing,” attempting to break off the seriousness of the moment.

After glancing at the supe woman next to him, Frenchie remarked, “It's getting late. Will they be staying here tonight?” He asked Butcher.

Butcher grumbled as he looked at his watch. “Yes, this is where we'll all spend the night. There are probably enough rooms for them.”

“How about Annie and Hughie?” Frenchie asked again, observing the supe woman make her way to the nearest room; she seemed weary and exhausted.

She said nothing since you entered the house, which confused you. Although you were eager to start up a conversation with the new supe women, it's possible that she felt unsafe in the same room as Ben. It wouldn't surprise you. Even though you felt a little uncomfortable, you decided to try talking to her later. They might realize that you were no different from them in this situation if they truly wanted to take down Homelander's tyranny and those people weren't supporting the Vought like you were.

“They'll stay too,” Butcher cut it short.

Frenchie shot you a hesitant glance as his hand ran through the top of his head. “Is it possible for you and your friend to share a room? It seems like Annie and Hughie appear to be staying. There would be enough rooms if they didn't.”

“Yeah,” Ben responded abruptly, getting up before you could reply. As it turned out, you just gave Frenchie a brief nod.

Butcher responded, “Perfect,” and stood up. “Good night, ladies.”

You thanked Frenchie when he showed you the room you'll be staying with Ben and took a quick look at the cramped, dim room filled with old pieces of furniture.

Ben slowly unfastened his belt while he observed you searching inside the wardrobe for something to wear. His blood had been burning in his veins for an hour now, and he just wouldn't stop coming toward you. He was about to go crazy from his desire to touch you. You were alone for the first time in a very long time, so it's been a fucking long time since you've fucked properly. Ben's balls hurt from missing your gentle moans and seeing you beneath his body. You were finally alone to speak, fuck, and discuss things tonight about your future and all.

You turned your back to Ben to change after finding a pink t-shirt. Just after removing it, anxiety and the chill in the room caused your nipples to harden, and you felt Ben's eyes on your back.

Ben turned you quickly, crushed his warm lips on yours, and began to kiss you frantically before you had even put on your shirt. He was moving too fast for you to react, and you were too shocked and perplexed to do anything. He urged you to kiss him back by pushing your back against the bed and climbing on top of you, aggressively using his tongue in your mouth. The moment the chilly material of his suit touched your bare chest, you shivered.

Ben kept kissing you, getting lost in his pleasure, not able to understand if you were responding to him or not. His hardness was hurting beneath his supe suit. He put his hands around one of your tits and gave it a firm squeeze, pressing his shaft firmly between your legs.

You were in shock at how quickly everything was escalating. Only when you heard Ben unzipping his pants as his mouth filled yours with low growling did you come to your senses.

You stopped his tough hands from reaching your underwear and saved your burning lips from his. As you struggled to catch your breath, his lips slid quickly over your body, finding one of your nipples and aggressively sucking it until you forgot how to breathe.

You finally managed to say, “Ben,” in a trembling voice. “Stop it.”

When you forced his mouth away from your tits, he continued to press his firm shaft between your legs. He irritably asked, “What the fuck? It's been fucking so long.”

Ben placed his strong arms over your head and stared at your nipples that were covered with his spit through darkened eyes for a long moment until you finally gasped out and exclaimed, “I can't fucking believe you.”

“What now?” he asked, speaking as though nothing was wrong between you and that everything was normal.

“Are you a fucking rabbit in heat?”

He questioned incredulously, “Why are you so mad?” as he continued to delicately rub against your pussy with his shaft through your sweatpants.

“Ben, it has been practically decades since our breakup. We didn't even end our relationship properly because you remained silent and basically cheated on me by dating Crimson.”

Ben frowned as you mentioned the past, stopping his motions on you and trying to maintain his composure.

He just stated “We can talk about such things later,” sounding displeased to hearing his relationship with the Countess. “Let us get off some steam first.”

You whispered, “No,” and used all of your effort to push him away from you. “There is nothing left to talk.”

Ben watched your tits disappear from sight while you took the pink t-shirt he threw onto the floor, and you hastily took it on from your head with trembling hands. As soon as you moved away from him, he eventually stood up.

“It's all in the past now,” he remarked, regretfully glancing at your fragile appearance. “We can fuck first and then talk it out.”

“I don't want you to ever touch me again.” You were enraged at how he continued to neglect everything else in favor of only wanting to fuck you and added, “I mean it.”

Ben said, “I know you don't mean this,” as he approached you with confidence. “You and I both have the same desires for this. We both want each other so badly. The way your body reacts to me even now makes it very clear to me.”

You glared at him angrily and ignored his idiotic, enormous ego, saying, “I don't want you in my life ever again.”

He touched your arms and asked, his voice annoyed, “Why have you suddenly gotten angry?”

Observing his continued blindness to you, you sighed. Though it didn't seem to be as essential as you anticipated for him, you hoped that at least he talked about all that happened. But he was the same selfish man who acted like he cared about you, then betrayed you and hurt you. There was no need to make your hopes up.

You said with an irritated tone, “I can't believe I'm so blind when it comes to you. You don't even care how much you cause me pain in every way possible, and all you want is to have fun. Am I just a fucking toy for you to play with as you like it?”

Ben abruptly interrupted you, saying in a serious tone, “Of course not,” as his powerful arms moved slowly over your shoulders. “I want to discuss and work out everything that went wrong between us. I simply..missed you so much.”

Even though you wanted to believe his sincerity, you felt nothing at all moved by it. It was difficult for you to believe him at all since he had so many lies to tell you and so much sorrow in his words. It was difficult for you to remember the joyful emotions you had for him in the past, but though you tried to recall the wonderful times you had together, they felt like memories belonging to someone else now. Something had died in your heart for him.

You softly pulled his hands off your arms and murmured in a solemn tone, “I wish I could believe you, but I don't.”

His voice was low as he questioned, “What do you mean?”

With a heavy heart, you stated, “Everything that happened between us is in the past. It is no longer there. You only want me by your side now because I was faithful to you the day I came to help you, even though you have really hurt me.”

Although it was difficult to acknowledge his selfishness, it was best to face the facts straight away and prevent him from hurting or abusing you in the future.

“It's not like that,” Ben cut you off right away in a harsh voice.

He felt confused, not knowing how to convince you of his seriousness. You were right to hold such low expectations of him; he would not deny it, but he also understood that nothing would change if you hadn't been there to save him that day.

You said, “I'm tired, Ben,” indicating that you didn't want to talk about it more. “I really need to sleep.”

He let it go and sighed, realizing you weren't all that keen on talking at the moment. After all, this was your first day in the modern world, so it was understandable that you were a little lost.

Ben muttered, “Okay, but this isn't the end. We'll discuss it afterwards. For now, you take a rest.”

As he watched you turn your back on him and slip under the sheets, you remained silent. Ben began removing his supe suit with a growl. The way you felt excited and moist at his slight touch told him you didn't mean any of it. He knew that you were nonetheless deeply in love with him. Every part of his body

felt the presence of it. However, he realized that before he fucked you, he had to convince you that he cared about you.

He went into the bathroom, growling angrily as he felt his bulge kicking his suit. Ben could finally touch himself because you were safe now. Knowing that you would find out what he was doing in the bathroom caused his lips to twist into a smile.

You tried to fall asleep, shifting on the bed to a more comfortable position as you heard Ben turn on the water. But as soon as you closed your eyes, you heard him growling low as he stroked himself under the water. He was touching himself furiously because he knew you would hear anything he was doing, even if you weren't trying to listen.

Ben was moaning your name and moving faster as you cursed your supe hearing. As you moved into the bed, your cheeks flushed, yet you kept quiet.

Ben noticed that you were pressing your legs together as though your body were trying to find relief, so he growled and beat his cock more.

Feeling closer, he passionately exclaimed, “Fucking touch yourself. I fucking missed you and your little pussy so much.”

As he continued to talk dirty about how hard he would fuck and how many times he would come inside of you if you let him, your cheeks grew red, and you finally muttered, “Stop it.”

He trembled and whispered while wet sounds filled the bathroom, “Almost there, sweetheart,” as if hearing your voice were to give him pleasure.

Ben groaned and began to cum while murmuring your name. Your walls were tightening around nothing, and even though your body was screaming for you to touch yourself, you ignored the aching between your legs as he kept spilling his thick white ropes in between his powerful strokes that filled the bathroom. It took him long to empty his heavy balls. It was only when he let out a satisfied moan that you realized you were holding your breath.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Ben knew you still cared and desired him as much as he did, and he would fucking do everything to show to you that you and he were meant to be together.

Next Chapter

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! -`♡´-

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Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. -`♡´-

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o-flairegan · 2 months ago

Text

Give Me Something to Die For

Pairing- Sam Carpenter x female reader

Word Count- 6.5k

Summary-You meet Sam after she has a drink thrown in her face and you offer her your jacket. The interaction leads to more than you would ever expect

Warnings- NSFW, fingering, vaginal sex, strap on sex, temperature play, knife play, minor overstimulation, mirror sex

Sam's also a bit ooc, sorry

Taunts are flung and then a drink goes flying and you watch absolutely horrified before stepping in between the group of three girls and the woman they are taunting.

“Don’t you have something better to be doing with your time,” you voice harshly, your eyes as cold as the wind whipping around us.

The girls lower their phones as you continue to hold their gaze and be a shield between the two parties. The tension eases from your shoulders as they finally move off, and with a sigh of relief you turn and look at the soaked woman.

“Hey are you okay,” you ask softly, trying not to spook the other woman.

She looks up and you, sighs softly, and nods. “I’m fine, just a bit shaken. It’s not every day someone throws a drink in my face and calls me a murderer,” she mutters softly, her jaw clenched in frustration. “It’s just stupid rumors that won’t die.”

You nod, not exactly sure what to make of the other woman’s statement. You pull off your jacket and hand it to the woman as you notice her shiver in the night air. You are thankful that for once you are wearing layers.

She takes the offered jacket with a grateful nod, slipping it on with a murmured “Thanks”. “I swear, some people just won’t leave me alone after they read Gale Weathers most recent book,” she says, rolling her eyes, frustration painted clearly on her face.

“I’m sorry. People are assholes, clearly.”

She shrugs. “It’s not your fault. I just wish people would use their brains before believing everything they read on the internet.” She pauses, looking at you curiously. “You at least don’t seem to think I’m a murderer.” She gives you a half smile, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

“I don’t know you so I just see someone having a shitty night.” You look her over, “Keep the jacket, it looks good on you.”

She grins at you, “Well if you insist.” She adjusts the jacket, and zips it up, making herself more comfortable. “You are really sweet you know that? Not many people would stick up for me like that.”

You shove your hands in your jean pockets, “Yeah well, everyone deserves to have someone care about them. Even if it is a random stranger.”

The woman’s expression softened and she meets your gaze warmly, “You are right…. And I’m glad that you were that someone for me tonight.” She takes a step closer, leaning into you slightly, “Would you like to come back to my place for a bit? I could use some company.”

You smile softly, “You know what fuck it, sure.”

She smiles back, and gestures back the way you came from, “It’s just down the way and to the left. So do you actually have a name, or should I just call you “kind stranger”?” She teases softly, gently nudging your shoulder as you walk together.

You offer your name and you can see the flicker of something in her dark brown eyes.

“Nice to meet you, my name is Sam, Sam Carpenter.” She says as if expecting a reaction to the name, her eyes flickering across your body as you walk alongside her. She smiles widely as the two of you approach her building, pulling you with her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had shown her such care without some ulterior motives.

The two of you walk up several flights of stairs and Sam’s hand in yours feels like a promise but you don’t know of what.

Sam unlocks the front door gesturing for you to come in. “Make yourself at home, I’m going to go and change out of this, I don’t want to smell like cherry coke for the rest of the night.” She disappears down the hall and you watch her go.

You decide to sit on the couch and look around the space, it is cozy and doesn’t feel cluttered in the way that some New York apartments can be. It is also bigger than most.

Sam returns to find you sitting on the couch looking at ease with your knees tucked up under you, your shoes having been kicked off. “So can I get you anything? A drink, some snacks? I think we have some chips and some popcorn.”

You can’t help but smile at how flustered Sam seems, this is a far cry from the woman whose eyes had blazed with fury when facing down those women.

“Water would be lovely,” you answer, wanting at least something to hold in your hands and something to drink.

“Sure, one water coming right up,” Sam replies heading to the kitchen. As she stood at the sink filing the glass you catch Sam looking at you but pretend not to notice.

“Hey, how are you feeling,” you ask wanting to break the silence but also genuinely wanting to know.

“I’m better thanks to you, “Sam says returning to the living room with two glasses of water. She passes one to you before settling on the couch next to you. “You and your jacket were a lifesaver- both literally and metaphorically.” She says with a playful grin.

“Glad I could be of service,” you say with a wink. You take a sip of water to ease your nerves with your blatant flirting.

Sam smirks, “You are funny, and I like that.” She leans back into the couch, tucking her feet under her as well. She glances up at you, watching for a beat. “You know, I haven’t really had the chance to do this in a long time.”

You look at her puzzled, the woman is gorgeous, how has she not had heaps of attention thrown her way. “A chance to do what,” you ask questioningly.

Sam pauses and seems to consider her next words carefully, “A chance to relax around someone who isn’t my sister, or my immediate friend group. It’s the first time I feel like I can let my guard down, in a very long time and that is rare for me. I’m usually the overprotective paranoid one.”

You take another sip of water and can’t help but wonder just what this woman has gone through to feel this way. “You deserve to be able to relax Sam. I know I’m a literal stranger but I’m glad that I can give you a bit of that.”

Sam’s eyes welled with unshed tears, “Why are you being so nice to me?” She looks at you, her gaze searching and vulnerable. “I’m not a good person, I’ve don’t things to protect myself but there is darkness inside me,” she whispers as a tear finally rolls down her cheek.

You set the water on the table and move closer so you can hold one of her hands. “Hey, no. Don’t talk about yourself like that. I may not know you but everyone has a bit of darkness inside of them. It is how we handle it that defines us.”

You watch as Sam’s eyes flick behind you, before settling back on you.

Sam however sees something entirely different, the visage of her dead father, Billy Loomis. She wants to believe your words, but seeing him just confirms her feelings.

“You seem really sweet Sam, I don’t know what ghosts are haunting you but I hope you know you are more than that,” you say giving her hand a squeeze.

Sam lets out a watery chuckle, wiping away the tears. “Sweet? Oh no, I’ve been called many things but ‘sweet’ is not usually one of them.” Sam squeezes your hand back, running a thumb across your knuckles. “But thank you, I appreciate it.”

You reach out to cup her cheek, but freeze halfway, unsure if the contact would be welcome.

Seeing you hesitate, Sam reaches out and grabs your hand and guides it to her face. She leans into it and an electric thrill passes between you. Her eyes close briefly and when they open again they are darker, “You can touch. I want you to, I want to feel something,” she says holding you there while her fingers are still tangled with your left hand. “Stay the night?”

You nod shakily, not expecting it but certainly not against it.

The moment is broken by a red head walking through the front door, with what I assume is her boyfriend and head through the living room to what I assume is the red heads room. “Hey Sam, sorry for the noise,” the red head says with a taunting smirk, before shutting her door.

You watch as Sam’s eyes narrow. “Thanks for the heads up Quinn,” she says with a growl. Sam stands from the couch and reaches to pull you up with her.

You follow Sam’s lead and are surprised and her strength and a bit turned on by it. As soon as you hear Quinn’s loud noise you realize why Sam is pulling you down the hall she disappeared down earlier.

Sam’s jaw is clenched and her grip on your hand tightens as the sounds of sex seem to echo in the apartment. ‘Fucking typical, “she growls under her breath. The sounds of Quinn’s moans, and the guy’s grunts filtered through the thin walls, and Sam’s eyes flash with annoyance and something else. She turns to you and cups your face, her dark eyes meeting your own.

“Hey, easy. It’s not like I haven’t had my fair share of roommates and heard them having sex. Its awkward but it is what it is,” you say softly, trying to sooth Sam as you feel her fingers flex.

“Sorry,” Sam mutters softly, leaning forward to rest her forehead against your own. “I just hate that she can bring home whatever guy of the week she wants and I can’t have what I want…” She trails off, her body tensing as Quinn lets out a particularly loud cry. Sam couldn’t help the growl that escaped her, her body pressing into yours as the two of you stand in the hallway.

“What do you want,” you rasp out softly, the noises and Sam’s proximity to you affecting you.

Sam’s breath hitched as she looked into your eyes. “I want…” she hesitates, and you can feel her trembling against you. “I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so badly and then take you to my bed and drown out Quinn’s noise with our own.”

“Please,” you groan out, wanting that more than you’d care to admit. The woman was exactly your type.

With a low groan of her own Sam crushes her lips against your own, pouring all of her frustration and desire into the kiss. Her hands grip your waist, pulling your bodies as flush as they can be as her tongue darts into your mouth deepening the kiss.

You kiss back, letting your tongue tangle with hers in your mouth. Your hands move down to grip her ass as you roll your hips into her.

Sam’s hands tighten against your waist as she feels your hands on her ass. She breaks the kiss, panting and resting her forehead against your own. “Not here,” she whispers hoarsely. “My room. Now,” She says reaching behind her to fumble with the door knob.

You nod, not trusting your words.

Sam pulls you into her room and slams the door; she pushes you onto the bed, growling for you to wait there. She grabs something you don’t quite see and steps into the bathroom attached to her room.

Your heart is pounding into your chest and between your legs and you feel like all the moisture in your mouth has evaporated as you wait for this beautiful woman who clearly wants to fuck you.

When Sam appears again she is wearing a pair of loose sweats although the same shirt. Her eyes are dark as they rake over you. She pulls you from your seat on the edge to back you up against her door. She leans in and attacks your neck with hungry little kisses and bites as her hands roam your body.

You can’t help the moan that falls from your lips as you lean into her touch and spread your legs as heat pools low.

Sam growls and slides her hand between your thighs cupping you over your jeans. She grinds the heel of her hand against you, feeling you move against her. She pulls back from your neck and lifts the edge of your shirt, “Off.”

You’ve never moved quicker, quickly pulling your shirt over your head grateful that you took your jacket off when you arrived at Sam’s place.

Sam eyes you appreciatively, taking in your newly bared skin and the black bra you are wearing. Your chest is heaving and you wonder if she can feel just how wet you are. She grinds the seam of your pants against you just right and you shudder against her. “Fuck, Sam.”

Sam leans in and captures your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing down your next moan. Her deft hands move from touching you to making quick work of the button and zipper on your pants before she pushes the pants down to your knees keeping you trapped. Dark brown eyes meet your own as she slips a finger between your folds, groaning at the wetness she finds there.

You aren’t shy about showing her what you want, grinding down on her fingers. “Inside please, fuck,” you whine, your voice dripping with want.

Swiping her fingers through your wetness she slowly pushes two inside of you, watching you take them. She curls her fingers finding that spot inside of you that makes you shudder and push against her. Sam is panting as she slowly pumps her fingers while staring intently at you, watching your every little reaction. “Look at me, “she rasps, when your head falls back against the door.

You meet her gaze as you feel your arousal pooling between your legs and coating Sam’s hand. You meet her thrusts and can hear the door making noise as you move but you don’t care. You want this.

Sam’s pupils are dilated seeing the raw unfiltered desire on your face. She quickens her pace, her fingers moving faster, the sounds of wet fucking filling the room along with breathless pants and moans. Her breath hitches as she feels you tighten around her fingers. “Say it, “she growls, her voice low and demanding.

“Fuck me, let me cum,” you moan softly, almost unable to get the words out.

Sam’s face flushes and your words spur her onward. She adds a third finger and you feel the stretch of it, thighs trembling. She moves faster, curling her fingers while her other hand comes up to grope one of your bra clad breasts.

You are lost to the pleasure of it as you whimper, “God yes Sam, use me.” You are embarrassed with how quickly this woman is making you unravel but you can’t find it in yourself to really care.

Sam’s control seems to snap; she withdraws her hand and spins you around to face the door. She makes sure your hands are pressed flat against the surfaces as she pulls your jeans the rest of the way off, along with your underwear and your bra. They are tossed to the side.

“Keep your hands there,” she growls as you hear movement behind you. You don’t turn to look but every part of you is so focused on her.

You feel her step up behind you and feel more than just her naked body pressed along your back; you feel her sliding a length between your legs from behind and the leather straps on her hips brushing the back of your things.

Sam moves back and forth for a minute before she lines herself up and slides inside slowly. She works herself in until you’ve taken her all. She leans over her breath hot against your ear. “Don’t move,” she whispers, voice shaky with barely held restraint.

“Fuck, did you go and put on a strap just for me,” you moan softly, feeling so full.

Sam nods, gritting her teeth, fighting to keep still. She wants nothing more than to move and fuck into you hard and fast but she wants this to be good for you. She leans down and kisses your neck, before biting into the same skin marking you.

“Shut up and stay still,” she growls, her restraint just about gone. You don’t move; instead do exactly what she asks of you as you relax against her.

Sam feeling you relaxing pulls back and snaps her hips forward drawing a cry from your lips. She sets up a punishing pace, having already worked you up with her fingers. Her hips meet yours with a loud slap each time she fucks into you, the door rattling under you as you moan.

You feel your resolve to not speak crumbling and finally give in. “Fuck yes, please fuck me. God fill me up.”

Sam groans at your pleas, her thrusts growing more erratic. She buries her face in your neck, inhaling your scent. “God your look so good taking me. I’m filling your little cunt so good,” she pants out. Sam wraps her arms around you, one hand splayed across your stomach, the other moving up to cover your mouth. “Bite down if it becomes too much baby,” she rasps out, her hips jerking forward in short brutal thrusts.

Sam continues to fuck you with reckless abandon, the hand on your stomach moving down to rub your clit. The strap-on was making lewd sounds as it fucked in and out of your pussy but it just seemed to drive the other woman onward. Sam couldn’t seem to get enough; she bites down on your shoulder as she nears her own release, marking you possessively.

With all of the simultaneous stimulation you shatter around her, cumming hard and squirting. Sam lets out a feral growl and continues thrusting, not giving you space to breath. “That’s it baby, cum on my cock,” she says, her voice strained with her impending release.

“Fuck please Sam, I wanna feel you cum. Wanna hear you,” you moan brokenly as she works your body over.

Sam’s movements become erratic, her thrusts losing their rhythm. With a final deep thrust she buries herself to the hilt and cums with a sharp cry.

You can’t help but fall apart again with how sensitive you are. The two of them stay entwined like that as you both come down from your respective orgasms.

Sam waits a moment to make sure you are steady before she pulls out of you and god you feel so empty without her. You turn around and look at her like that, hair thoroughly mussed and her strap coated with your juices.

Sam can’t help but smirk, “God you are so sexy.” You blush as she slowly pulls you to her and leads you to the bathroom. Its surprisingly large with two sinks, a huge mirror and plenty of countertop space.

Sam unbuckles the strap and sets it on the counter next to the sink for cleaning. She turns to you and lifts you up to sit on the counter. Grabbing a washcloth, she gets it wet with warm water and gently cleans you off with warm water. “You were so good baby, “she whispers softly, watching as you still tremble.

Sam grins tossing the washcloth aside before stepping in between your thighs. “You’re so sensitive right now that just my touch makes you quiver doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” I whisper shakily.

Sam leans in to kiss you, her fingers once again exploring your swollen folds. “Good,” she murmurs against your lips. “Because we are just getting started sweetheart,” she says before she slips two fingers back inside of you. “Want to try something?”

“What did you have in mind,” you say with a gasp as she fills you again.

Sam’s eyes glittered in the light of the bathroom as she she withdraws her fingers slowly, teasingly. “Have you ever tried temperature play? It can heighten everything.”

You shake your head, “I’ve never tried it.”

Sam steps away from you and returns holding a small glass toy along with a bottle of something else. She holds the toy up for you to see. The toy is sleek, clear and curved just a little. “This is a glass dildo. It is smooth, firm and conducts different temperatures beautifully.”

You eye the toy and the woman in front of you. With your heart thundering in your chest you nod in agreement. “Okay.”

Sam turns on the faucet to your right letting the cold water run for a minute, then runs the glass toy under it making sure it is nice and chilled. She dries it off before turning her attention back to you. “Open your legs for me baby,” she instructed, her voice firm and commanding.

You obey, your hands gripping the counter top as you are spread before her. Your heart is racing and it feels like it has traveled between your legs as you watch Sam step forward.

Sam positions herself between your thighs, the cool glass of the toy pressed gently against your heated opening. She teases it across your slit and lets the contrast in temperature send shivers through your body. “Feel that? The way the cold glass makes your hot, wet cunt quiver with need?”

You nod, biting your lip as you give into what your body is feeling.

With a gentle push Sam slowly slides the chilled glass into your pussy watching in delight as your eyes slip closed and a soft gasp escapes your lips.

“Fuck, you look so good around it. Taking it so well,” she murmurs, her fingers reaching up to rub your clit.

“Feels so good Sam,” you hoarsely whisper, your hips rolling.

Sam smiled wickedly at your praise, slowly fucking the glass toy in and out angling it to hit that spot inside of you. “Mmm, I’m glad you like it baby. Your pussy looks so good like this, taking this just for me.”

You are already shuddering, your breath coming in quick pants as you rock into her. Your hands are gripping the countertop with a white knuckled grip.

Sam pulls the glass toy out slowly, reveling in how your pussy clung to it, not wanting to let it go. She sets it to the side and grabs the bottle she brought with her. “You ready for the next part, sweetheart?”

A whimper falls from your lips as you tremble on the counter top, still spread wide for Sam.

Sam chuckles softly amused and aroused by your desperate little whimpers. She squeezed a generous amount of what you realize is warming lube on her fingers and your eyes go wide. “Impatient, are we?” She teased as she warms the slick fluid between her hands before moving to touch you. Sam rubs the lube over your clit and folds, the warm tingling sensation replacing the cool. She watches with fascination as your body reacts, skin flushing and hips rocking forward involuntarily. “Oh that feels hot, doesn’t it baby?”

You shudder against her fingers, “Fuck, god Sam, it feels so good.” You pant and try and get some control back but you are beyond that now.

Sam grins triumphantly ash she continues to rub the lube in, the sensation clearly driving you wild. ‘You like when I make you feel like this don’t you? All hot and desperate for more?”

You swallow hard. “I’ve never felt like this with anyone,” you gasp out.

Sam’s grin widened, she loved knowing what she was doing to you and knowing that she was giving you something no one else had. She gently parts your folds, just to see how wet you are for her.

“And to think all it took was giving my jacket to a stranger,” you gasp out.

Sam huffs out a small laugh as she washes her hands, she doesn’t want any of the warming lube actually in you. “Who knew such a simple act could lead to this?” She says as she steps back between your legs, sliding two fingers back inside of you and moving. “Lucky for you, I’m not just any stranger.”

“No you are just the hot stranger currently fucking my brains out,” I say with a gasp as I pull you closer, needing to touch you.

Sam chuckles at your breathless incoherent praise, her fingers fucking into you. She can feel your wet warmth around you and how you are already clenching against her. “You keep talking like that and I might stop,” she warns.

“Babe, you invited me back to your place and are currently fucking me in your bathroom while your roomie bangs her boy toy. I think we are long past stopping,” you say breathlessly, just barely able to get it out as she fucks me.

Sam’s thumb joins her fingers, rubbing your clit as she thrusts her fingers. She can’ feel your walls clenching around her fingers, the tight heat almost overwhelming. “You like that hug? You like when I fingerfuck you until you can’t even think straight?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Yes, you feel so good inside me,” you gasp out, voice trembling.

Sam’s voice lowered to a sultry growl. “Good, because I’m just getting started, baby. I’m gonna make you cum so hard again you’ll forget your name.” Her fingers moved faster, the wet sounds filling the bathroom.

“Please, fuck, god, oh god, please.”

Sam smirked as she felt your hips bucking against her had desperate for release. She curled her fingers just right, and made your vision swim. “That’s it, let go for me. Cum all over my fingers like the naughty girl that you are.”

You shudder in her hold, your head dropping forward as you cum, your thighs clamping down on her hand. One hand grips the counter top; the other holds her tighter to you. “Fuck.”

As your orgasm crashes over you Sam continues to move her fingers drawing out the pleasure until you are a quivering mess. Only then did she slow her movements, gently removing her fingers from you. “Look at you, so pretty and spent just for me.”

Jesus, I pant heavily, trying to draw in air. I feel like an absolute boneless mess.

Sam leans in close, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, “And now I think it is time for the main even don’t you?” She pulls back and watches your reaction, slapping your thigh lightly before stepping out of the bathroom and your gaze follows her as she leaves.

She comes back with something wrapped in a towel, and sets it softly on the counter top next to you. You look at it curiously but she grabs your chin, “Focus on me baby, I need you to listen and be honest with me. How do you feel about knife play?”

The question throws you a little but honestly you’ve always thought that swords and knives are cool and have even wondered what using one during sex might me like. “When you say knife play, what exactly do you mean,” you ask hesitantly.

Sam smiles and unwraps the cloth to reveal a knife larger than you had expected. She hands it over to you, letting you hold it in your hands. You can see it has a clear cutting edge and a flat spine. Holding it in your hand sends a little thrill through you.

“It’s a Buck 120, I know it looks a little intimidating but I just want to hold the spine of the knife against your throat as I fuck you baby. Would that be okay?” Sam looks up at you with those dark eyes and you can’t help but not yes as you pass the knife back to her.

Sam sets the knife back on the counter and pulls you so you are standing before she slowly turns you to face the mirror. “I want you to watch this, babe.”

You look in the mirror and see what a ruined mess Sam has made of you.

Sam grins wickedly at your reflection, loving the dazed and thoroughly fucked expression on her face. Her eyes travel slowly down your body, lingering on the marks she had left, the bites and hickeys dotting her neck, thighs slick and coated in arousal.

You shudder as she grabs the knife and steps behind you and you tilt your head back as the cool metal grazes your throat.

Sam watches in the mirror, the way you arch your back and pull just slightly away from the knife. She nuzzles her face into your neck, inhaling your scent.

Your eyes slip closed as Sam nips at your skin, leaving yet another bite mark against your skin. How you had come to let this woman you’d only met a few hours ago use you like this is beyond you. “I don’t know how we came to be here but god, I fucking love it,” you rasp out, your eyes meeting Sam’s in the reflection.

Sam chuckles, her voice muffled against your flesh. “Let’s just say, you have an aura that screams “touch me, ruin me.” Sam nips and sucks along your neck and shoulders, marking you further.

“Do I,” you ask softly, shivering as you feel the cold metal shift.

Sam’s right hand moves down your front, palming at one of your breasts possessively. “Mmmhmm. It’s intoxicating to have such a sweet innocent thing like you.” She squeezed your breast in her hand, her thumb flicking over the hardened peak as she holds the knife firmly.

“You knew from the moment I handed you my jacket didn’t you,” I asked softly, my gaze trained on you in the mirror as you touched me.

Sam’s grin was predatory as she looked at you. “Oh, absolutely. The way you so selflessly helped me out, only for me to invite you back to my place. It was like you were silently daring me to take advantage of you.”

“Maybe I was,” I moan out softly.

Sam’s eyes flashed with dark amusement at your admission. She leans in a little closer, her lips brushing your ear as she speaks in a low growl. “Naughty, naughty girl. Playing the sweet innocent thing while secretly begging to be ravished.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not playing anything.”

Sam’s hand slides down to grip your hip, pulling you flush against her muscular body, while still holding the knife steady. She rolls her hips grinding against your ass as she growls softly. “Then stop teasing, and give yourself to me completely. I want to ruin you for anyone else.”

“You have Sam, I’ve given you more than I have to anyone else,” you gasp breathlessly hoping she understands.

Sam’s breath hitches in her throat when she hears your words. She grinds her teeth together to keep from moaning, her grip on the knife wavering as her body tenses behind you. She had known you would be perfect but this was more than she could have ever hoped for.

“I don’t know if this is what you are missing out on, but I hope you are enjoying this,” you say softly as you meet her eyes in the mirror.

Sam’s face flushes with heat, her pupils dilating as she stares back at you in the mirror. She leans forward, resting her forehead against your shoulder, her voice barely a whisper. “You have no idea. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”

I whimper and lean into the cold steel at my throat, “Fuck you can’t just say things like that.”

Sam pulls back slightly, a wicked smirk spreading across her face as she catches the hint of desperation in your voice. She knows she has you utterly hooked. “Why not? It’s the truth.” Her hand slides down to your core, teasing across your flesh.

I shiver and spread my legs slightly, seeing the desperation in my eyes reflected in the mirror. “Because I’ll never stop wanting you, “I whisper like a confession.

Sam’s grin turns smug, her touch growing bolder as her fingers part your folds to slowly sink into you once more. “Then you are mine aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I stutter out as I watch you fuck me in the mirror, the knife still pressed against my throat as I grip the countertop tightly.

Sam’s pace quickened her fingers pumping in and out of you as she watches there reflections in the mirror. Her other hand holds the knife and uses it to tilt your chin up to meet her eyes in the mirror. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I rasp out, the knife pressing into my skin, the thrill of it dizzying.

Sam’s expression tightens with desire as she hears your words. Her hips rock forward and you can feel her wetness on your backside as she pistons her fingers in and out of you. “Good girl,” she growls out lowly.

“Fuck baby, god, you make me feel so good,” you whimper brokenly as she fucks you. Your eyes are still trained on her in the mirror and she looks like a dark goddess fucking you. The snarl on her face and the knife at your throat thrilling you.

Sam’s grin widened at your plea, her eyes gleamed with lust. She thrust her fingers deeper, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside of you. “That’s the point sweetheart. To make you feel like you’ve never felt before.”

Your hips are rolling into her touch, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge. “Fuck Sam, I’m gonna cum again,” I moan out loudly.

Sam’s breathing grows heavier, her own excitement building as she feels your walls start to flutter. She tightened her hold on the knife and pressed it harder to your throat and growls in your ear, “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers like the good little slut that you are.”

The words, the knife and her fingers all work together to send you over the edge. You shudder, your thighs trembling as they clench down on her hand. You lose your grip on the counter top and the knife clatters down as Sam holds you up.

Sam’s arm snakes around your waist pulling you back against her chest firmly as he fucks you slowly through it. She nuzzles into your neck as her fingers gently move, drawing out every drop of pleasure. “Mmm..”

You shiver in her hold and open your eyes to take one more look at the two of you in the mirror. You look absolutely fucked, bruises and bite marks litter your neck and you are flushed. Sam’s strong arm is wrapped around your waist as she gazes lovingly at you, your hand still lightly gripping the sink as she holds you.

“You’ve ruined me Sam. I can’t take anymore,” you mutter softly. Your body feels boneless and you don’t even know how you are still standing.

Sam chuckles and nuzzles into your neck once more. “Oh baby, we are just getting started.” She slowly sliders her fingers from between your legs, tracing up your stomach to spread your release across your skin. “Look at you, such a mess.”

“Sam, please, no more.” You mumble. “Still too sensitive.”

Sam hums soothingly her touch gentling as she traces across your quivering stomach. She nips playfully at the tender skin of your neck her voice laced with mischief. “Shh, baby…”

You drop your head and cling to her as your legs finally feel stable enough to hold you. “I can’t take anymore.”

Sam’s arm tightens around your waist, holding you securely in place as she presses a soft kiss to the side for your neck. Her free hand comes up to grasp your chin, tilting your head to the side. “Can’t take anymore what, baby? The pleasure?”

Yes I gasp raggedly, turning in Sam’s hold to face her.

Sam’s breath hitches as she looks at you, feeling you trembling still. She could feel the spasms of her own release and it just made the whole thing more delicious. She grins wickedly, leaning in so her breath ghosts across your skin. “Good.”

“Can we take a break please,” I ask quietly, feeling badly about needing a break from it all.

Sam’s expression softens and she lets her grip around you loosen a little bit, allowing you to properly catch your breath. She peppers your cheek and jawline with soft kisses. “Alright, baby. We can take a break.” Her voice was low and soothing, a stark contrast to her earlier intensity.

You capture her lips in a soft kiss before she breaks it and pulls you from the bathroom and back into her bedroom. This time you take a moment to look around the space. It is dimly lit and furnished with dark wood and deep blue gray colors. Her king size bed, covered in charcoal sheets dominates the room.

Sam pulls back the comforter and sheets and gently eases you down onto the plush mattress. She makes sure you are settled before she moves to the other side of the bed and crawls in beside you. “Rest for a bit, sweetheart. You’ve earned it.”

You curl up with Sam in her bed and feel the most at peace with this woman and everything that has happened than you have anything in a very long time.

Sam’s arm wraps around you, pulling you closer, as she nuzzles into your hair. Her hands idly trace up and down your side, her touch gentle and soothing. She inhales deeply, drawing in your scent- a mix of your perfume and the smell of sex on the both of you.

“And who would have thought that this would all come from sharing my jacket,” I say with a contented sigh.

Sam huffs out a small laugh, “Mmm… I certainly didn’t think I’d be curled up naked with you in my bed after keeping your jacket.” Her fingers pause in their gentle stroking, squeezing you possessively.

“I’m kinda glad that idiot threw their drink on you,” you whisper, placing a kiss to the hollow of her throat.

Sam grinned and pressed her face against your hair. “ Me too, baby. Me too. Otherwise I might never have met you or gotten my hands on you like this.” She flexed her hand, fingers splaying across your hip, the warmth seeping into your skin.

“Probably not,” I mumble softly already drifting off to sleep in your arms.

Sam’s lips curve into a gentle smile as your breathing began to even out, the fight to remain conscious slowly slipping away. She adjusted your position ever so slightly, ensuring you are comfortably held in her embrace. “Sleep well Sweetheart.” She murmurs softly, her words barely audible in the quiet of the room. She places a soft kiss to your forehead and closes her eyes and drifts off.

#samantha carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x you #melissa barrera #scream #scream fanfic

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pimosworld · 1 year ago

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Pairing-Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary- Joel’s a grump when it’s hot and also when he gets jealous.

CW- 18+, No outbreak au, established relationship, mostly fluff, grumpy Joel, reader is not described, possessive Joel, family dynamics, illusions to smut, joel is down bad for reader.

WC-1.9k

A/N- I can’t wait for summer so I wrote this little snippet into the life of the Joel I think about often. May do a spicy part two if the mood strikes me.

[Main Masterlist][Joel Miller Masterlist]

Not beta read

Dog Days

He told you he’d behave. Begrudgingly and with promise that you’d make it up to him. That’s the only thought he clings to as he sits in this lawn chair that’s too small for him. The only seat away from everyone else so he doesn’t have to do the small talk thing. He can still see you though. Sun kissed and smiling at something Maria is saying.

He still doesn’t know how you do it, how you make it look so effortless even on the hottest day of the year. His shirt clings to him and he’s sweating in places he wouldn’t speak of out loud and you just stand there all heaven sent like it’s a different temperature in your world.

Your world bled into his before he knew what hit him. He started to enjoy sunsets and stopped to smell the flowers, because that’s what you liked to do and he quickly learned that anything that made you happy made him feel like the most fortunate man in the world. He’s fortunate to have you every morning, waking up curled into his side as you steal sleepy kisses along his chest and his arms. He pretends to be asleep for as long as he can until he’s so worked up he has to make you come at least twice before you extract yourselves from the bed.

That’s where he wants to be right now as he stares at some prehistoric bug that’s landed in his warm beer, flailing and hoping someone can put him out of his misery much like he hopes after being dragged to this godforsaken barbecue. Despite it being his own brother he would have gladly come up with any excuse not to be here. He loves his family but sometimes he couldn’t stand Tommy.

‘Who has a party on the hottest day of the year?’ You laughed earlier as he grumbled about in the kitchen helping you pack away the things you prepared in the cooler.

‘He can’t control the weather Joel. You know he’s excited about the new house.”You with your rational thought and kind heart.

‘Who’s side are you on Darlin?’ He caged you in against the counter as he ran his hands up your thighs. You shiver under his touch and he knows it wouldn’t take much to convince you to stay home.

Your hands meet his as you pull them up higher, bunching your dress a little to reveal those cheeky shorts he couldn’t get enough of. You wrap his hands around your waist as you run yours up his arms and around his neck. His chocolate brown eyes are glazed over as you slowly put him under some trance. Your lips kiss that spot in his beard as your nails scratch at his scalp and he has to brace himself against the counter to keep himself grounded. ‘I’m always on your side Miller.’

“What’s up with you brother?” Tommy slaps his back bringing him back to this fresh hell. A man can’t even day dream in peace.

“It’s hot.” He grumbles and goes to take a sip of his beer before he remembers and chucks it out on the grass.

Tommy licks his lips as a smirk pulls across his face, no doubt thinking of something to say that will have Joel flying off the handle. His niece is running towards them with the same look on her face to save him from his impending death. Wild black curls bouncing in her face to match her parents.

Tommy holds his arms out for his daughter but she crashes her small body into Joel as the weight of her hit causes a small creak in the lawn chair. A muffled hi uncle Joel is said into his shirt as Tommy stands there defeated. “You stayin out of trouble?”

She just shrugs her shoulders and offers her hand out to him. An ice cold Diet Coke she’s barely able to get her little hands around. A mystery smudge is on her shirt and her pants have seen better days. Tommy wanted a boy but he was pleasantly surprised when her little personality started to take hold and he quickly realized he had his hands full with this one. Her two front teeth are missing and the smile etched across her face is a mischievous one. “Thanks sweetheart.” Joel takes it from her, it’s still cold despite having traversed the lawn and been subjected to the warmth of her hands. He’ll wait a moment to open it, no doubt jostled as she ran over here.

“My mommy said you look hotter than h e double hockey sticks.”

“Izzy!” Tommy snaps at her and Joel can’t help the laugh that bubbles up.

“What…I spelled it. I didn’t say Hell.” She rolls her neck and he swears he can see Maria in that moment.

“Isabella.” Tommy’s voice drops an octave in warning as she backs away slowly with her hands raised.

She reminds him so much of Tommy when he was younger. It’s only fair that he gets a taste of his own medicine. When Joel met you the decision had already been made that you didn’t want kids and Sarah was almost in college and Joel didn’t want to start over. It was a relief to find someone that could love his child so fiercely despite it not being their own. Izzy came barreling into their lives shortly after Sarah left and you loved that little bundle of joy like it was the last thing on earth.

There’s little hints of you in her sprinkled throughout your time together. Her insistence on correcting people and their grammar, the way she defends others although you told her she should try to use her words more after she punched some kid on the playground for bullying a smaller kid. Joel may have had a hand in that one.

Joel cracks the can as Tommy drones on about repairs that need to be done to the house. He already knows what his brothers’ getting at and he doesn’t even need to ask…of course he’s going to help him take on whatever project needs to be done to get the house in order for the new baby. He knew Tommy was nervous before Izzy arrived and this brings on a whole new level of responsibility. They were so grateful they’d found a house down the street from you and Joel with just two months to spare before this new bundle arrived.

He takes a sip of the bubbly cold drink, the sweetness is slightly off. You swore he wouldn’t be able to tell but of course he can. His doctor told him to cool it on the sodas and he made the mistake of telling you. You care so much…too much. You called his brother and Maria and now they’re watching him like a hawk so he has to sneak the ones with real sugar like a junky getting his fix.

In the brief moments he’d been graced by Tommy’s presence he lost sight of you. His eyes scan the large backyard, the kids playing in some dirt mound, some guys from the job site ribbing each other by the grill. You and Maria are by the cooler with some mystery man while you rub her swollen belly. His eyes roam down your body as you bend over to lay a kiss to it and whisper sweet words to your soon to be niece or nephew.

You stand and try to adjust the strap on that dress he loves so much. You’re always complaining about how the straps never stay up and he supposes you keep it just for him. He’ll have to remember to burn it when you get home as he grits his teeth and watches the man get an obvious look down the front of your dress.

“Who’s that?” Joel juts his chin toward the end of the yard as Tommy squints his eyes.

“Don’t.”

“I just asked his goddamn name Tommy.” He huffs at his brother and he just shakes his head. The heat was already getting to him before and now it’s at a fever pitch.

“His name is James, we just hired him.” Tommy holds his arms out in a mock satisfaction and Joel’s not in the mood for his theatrics.

“We? Hired him.” Joel shifts and he hears the chair creak again. He stands up abruptly not wanting to be flat on his ass because of his brother's crappy lawn furniture.

“Yes Joel…remember you put me in charge of staffing the site?”

Joel just hums under his breath as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’ll have to remember to start vetting the candidates again if this is the type of people Tommy’s got working for them.

The man is crossing the lawn towards them with a presidential smile and Joel’s already pissed. He greets Tommy and offers his hand to Joel as he begins to introduce himself.

“James is it?” Joel squeezes the man's hand a little too tight as he winces. Tommy retreats not wanting to be a witness to whatever Joel was going to say or do. At this point he knew there was no stopping him.

“Mr. Miller, it’s nice to meet you.” He doubts that and he can tell by the look on his face that he’s already sorely regretting walking over here.

“You don’t really have an eye for jewelry do ya?” Joel cocks his head waiting for an answer, an easy trap to set for a simpleton like James. There’s no right answer. Not when he’s got his teeth sunk into him. “See I noticed almost immediately that there’s a ring on your finger.” He gestures to the man’s hand and holds up his own. “You didn’t seem to notice my wife’s hand when you were eye fuckin the shit out of her.”

“Hi Honey.” Your sweet voice hits his ears as your hand travels up his arm, working your way behind his neck to rub that spot that seems to always make him deflate.

James uses this momentary distraction to run away with his tail tucked.

“You behavin?” You purr at him as he drops his head down to let you run your fingers through his hair.

“Always sugar.” His words slurred a little as he succumbed to your touch. You’re like a sedative the way you seep into his veins and put him in a trance like state.

He can’t see your eyebrows raised at him as you scan the backyard for the offending party. “Come on Miller, let’s get you home and cool you off before someone gets fired.”

He starts to speak but you shush him with your finger placed gently on his mouth. A quick glance over your shoulder and you lean up kissing him deep. It almost takes him by surprise how you still have this effect on him. No longer concerned with the heat or the stress at work or his brother’s constant annoyance. You can silence all those thoughts with just a taste of your lips. You break away when you hear the whoops coming from Tommy and Joel grumbles under his breath.

The strap on your shoulder slides down and you sigh a little as Joel runs his finger underneath, feeling your smooth skin turn to goosebumps. It’s intoxicating the way he knows he has that same effect on you. He’s smirking to himself as he reaches behind you and adjusts the strap, getting a glimpse down the front and the soft swell of your breast.

“Looks like you and James have something in common.” You laugh as he scowls at you, the kind of laugh that has tears at the corner of your eyes.

“Don’t push it darlin.”

Comments and and reblogs are much appreciated

#joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #tlou imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joelmiller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller au #joel miller x female reader

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sirfrogsworth · 4 months ago

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This is some speculative bullshit. I swear if these people saw me in 90 degree heat while wearing a suit they'd think I was a demon. My face turns beat red and I look like a damp naked mole rat.

I don't think some people realize how different you can look under various lighting conditions.

Specular highlights are direct reflections that appear as bright spots or sparkles. Think catchlights in the eyes or glare on the tip of the nose or glistening on freshly glossed lips.

Usually light obeys the inverse square law. It reflects much dimmer the farther it travels. But not *direct* reflections. So things like mirrors, glossy surfaces, or drops of water can all reflect light straight back instead of scattering and diffusing it. So that directly reflected light remains the same intensity as the light source.

Now imagine a powerful spotlight that is 50 feet away. It has to be super bright to light a person up on stage because it is so far away. Every time you double the distance, light diminishes by a factor of 4. But all of those little beads of sweat are reflecting the full intensity of the spotlight, so they light up like a Christmas tree on someone's face. And they kind of group together to create bright patches on his skin. Our brains have been trained to register that as sweating. And the brighter and larger those patches, the sweatier we assume someone is.

You can see just how bright his sweat was reflecting by looking at the catchlight in his eye.

Look at the exposure of the whites of his eyes compared to the catchlight.

So he looks red from the heat and the lights are making his skin look super clammy. And as a fun bonus, a small, hard light source exaggerates pores, blemishes, wrinkles, and skin texture.

What's interesting is if you move that spotlight closer, the specular highlights will start to appear dimmer.

This is because the light source doesn't need to be as bright because it is closer. And those direct reflections match the intensity of the light source. They also spread out and appear softer because the light source is larger. Larger lights are more flattering.

John basically had everything working against him in this situation and now people think he's doing coke again because the event didn't set up a lighting truss a little closer.

Also, everyone's memory of what John looks like is mostly from TV appearances. They don't typically see him right after a jog, so their mental image is skewed towards a single circumstance.

This was only a few months ago where he is wearing makeup and under professional studio lights.

And here he is... fucking yesterday.

Maybe the fancy lights and makeup are covering up his drug addiction.

Here he is in the temperature controlled SNL writers room under soft room lights. Again, yesterday.

Looks fine to me.

I know he is a celebrity and he'll be fine, but a bunch of people who struggle with addiction are going to see all of these people judging and speculating and being shitty because a person was hot. And that sucks.

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year ago

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Aaron making hot chocolate for his little girl 😭😭😭😭 she only wants his and can tell if someone else has made it, and flat out REFUSES to drink it. Reader calls Aaron on the phone during a case and all he can hear is his daughter crying in the background and reader is like “wtf do you put in this hot chocolate??? Coke???????” because reader just cannot get it right despite Aaron walking them through the process of his hot chocolate before 😭 maybe Aaron talks on the phone with daughter for a bit to calm her down and the promise of unlimited hot chocolate once he comes home AHHHHHHH

dad's way

please 😭 and the way i literally had a hot cocoa candle burning as i worked on this cw; fem!reader, food descriptions, brief picky eater talk, girl dad!aaron <333333

"hi sweetheart-"

the shriek on the other end immediately caused him to hold his phone an inch or two away. it was piercing and loud, even for his bad ear.

concern had already swarmed his chest before the cry had ceased, and the room suddenly felt a bit hotter. "honey? is everything alright?"

there was a brief rustling sound, a small clattering of what he assumed was dishes, the close of a cabinet following after. "how do you make your hot chocolate?"

"why-"

"how, do you make your hot chocolate." you interrupted him, your voice distancing a bit for a moment, "dada's on the phone, it's okay."

"oh." aaron chuckled softly as realization hit, his voice filled with a tinge of pity. "someone's upset."

"tell me about it." you sighed in defeat, exasperation clear. "apparently, whatever i make isn't good enough. i've given her three different cups already. three. well, given the third was a reattempt of number one. but with whipped cream and sprinkles. jack too tried to persuade her, but nope. it's daddy's hot chocolate and daddy's hot chocolate only."

"is it in the right mug?"

"the one with all the little ladybugs? yup."

"okay," aaron quickly excused himself - he was still sat amongst the rest of the team, who were silently digging through records - jj shot him a sympathetic glance as he got up. he trailed down the short hallway outside the conference room, in search of a more secluded area to give instructions. "well, i usually-"

aaron walked you through it - steaming the milk, at just the right temperature. adding the cocoa mix, a little extra than the standard serving size. mini marshmallows, and the secret ingredient you had missed - adding a touch of vanilla extract. it was simple, really, but your daughter was a stickler.

she wasn't a picky eater, but was very adamant on how things were made or presented. for example, if two foods next to each other on a plate happened to merge - it was the end of the world. and when it came to aaron's hot chocolate, she couldn't get enough of it. she asked for it nightly, promptly right after dinner. she always insisted on sitting on the counter as aaron made it, watching intently and asking questions on what he was doing. it was their thing together. and more than likely, his absence was aiding to the current meltdown.

"here," aaron hears you say, your daughter's cries lessening for a moment. "this is dada's."

there was a moment's pause, and aaron could easily visualize your daughter analyzing the drink, her eyebrows furrowing in that hotchner way that was just genetic at this point - jack had it too. but as you both already anticipated, another wail produced in response.

"nooooo it's not!"

aaron heard you tiredly sigh, and he was quick to offer more assistance. "want me to talk to her?"

"please."

another shuffle came from your end of the phone, handing it to your daughter. there was a slightly louder sniffle, indicating she was close and listening.

"hi sweetheart," aaron softened his voice, his heartstrings tugging as he silently wished he was home, with you all, rather than a few states away. "what's the matter?"

another sharp sniffle. "i want your hot chocolate."

"i know bug," he consoled softly. again, his heart breaking at her small, upset voice. "but since i'm at work, mom's gonna have to make it for you."

she hesitated, bottom lip quivering. another small wail was quick to follow. "but i want yours."

"i know, but i told momma how i make it, so it'll taste exactly the same, i promise. she put all her love in it too, just like i do. which, do you wanna know a secret?"

that grabbed her attention, her cries stilling so fast it was almost humorous. "uh huh."

"that's the secret ingredient that makes it taste so good, whether mom or i make it. but you can't tell your brother that, okay? it'll be our secret."

"okay."

"so tonight, can you drink mom's hot chocolate? she worked really hard to make it special, just for you." she quieted, still unsure, so aaron switched tactics. "and when i get home, i'll make you two cups. with extra, extra marshmallows. how does that sound?"

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine

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niallerspayno · 3 months ago

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Heat of the Moment (Louis Tomlinson x reader) - Fic Request

Anonymous request: I’d really love if you wrote about Louis and you getting into an argument

and

Anonymous request: Could you make a version of the bus with Louis? I have the impression that he is very rough type.

Tags: Smut!

The night ends in the same controlled chaos it began with. A throng of fans had waited hours outside the venue, and you’d pushed through with the boys, Paul leading the charge. The excitement, the noise, the adrenaline—it’s all part of the job. Now, the six of you are crammed into the tour bus, the hum of the engine a welcome contrast to the earlier chaos.

You’re leaning against the counter in the tiny kitchenette, a bottle of water in hand, laughing at something Niall’s just said. He’s mid-story, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief, and you can’t help but giggle when his Irish accent thickens as he imitates Paul’s gruff voice.

“That was spot on,” you say, nudging him with your elbow.

Louis steps into the space just then, his presence filling the small area like a storm rolling in. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you and Niall from the corner of his eye as he grabs a Coke from the fridge.

“Good one, mate,” Louis finally says, his voice sharp, cutting into the lightness of the moment. You glance over at him, confused by the edge in his tone, but Niall doesn’t seem to notice. He just grins, pats your shoulder, and heads toward the back lounge.

The moment you’re alone with Louis, the temperature in the room shifts. He leans against the counter across from you, his gaze locked on yours, the Coke unopened in his hand.

“Having fun, were you?” he asks, too casually.

You blink, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Nothing. Just seemed like you and Niall were having a grand old time.”

You laugh, incredulous. “Are you serious right now?”

Louis shrugs, but his jaw tightens, betraying the casual front he’s putting on. “Just saying. Don’t reckon you two need to be so friendly when, you know... certain things are meant to stay private.”

The words hit you like a slap, and your stomach twists. “Unbelievable,” you mutter, pushing off the counter. “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

But you don’t get far before his voice follows you, sharp and accusing. “Of course you’re not. Why bother, right? It’s not like it matters to you anyway.”

You whirl around, the anger bubbling to the surface as your voice rises. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you. The guy who decided we have to sneak around because ‘it’s easier this way.’”

The argument is brewing now, the tension thick in the small space.

“You think I want to sneak around?” Louis snaps, his voice rising to match yours. He steps closer, closing the distance between you, the Coke bottle still clutched in his hand. “This isn’t exactly my dream setup either, love.”

“Oh, don’t you dare,” you fire back, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re the one who said, ‘Let’s keep it quiet, yeah? Just between us.’ Like it was so bloody inconvenient for anyone to know!”

“And it’s worked, hasn’t it?” he retorts, his blue eyes blazing. “But not if you keep carrying on like that with Niall.”

“Carrying on?” you repeat, your voice dripping with disbelief. “He was telling a story, Louis. I laughed. You don’t get to turn that into some conspiracy against you.”

Louis lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Right. Just a laugh. Nothing more to it, yeah? You’re always so good at pretending none of this matters.”

Your breath catches, his words cutting deeper than you expected. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm, “that I’m the one who’s got to watch everything I say, everything I do, just so we don’t slip up. Meanwhile, you’re out there acting like you don’t care.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, anger boiling over. “You think I don’t care? Are you serious right now? I’ve done everything you asked, Louis. I’ve played along with all of this—hiding, sneaking, pretending like it’s nothing when it’s not!”

“Then maybe this was a mistake,” he shoots back, the words slicing through the air.

It’s like the floor drops out from under you. For a moment, you just stare at him, his chest heaving, his face hard but tinged with something you can’t quite place—regret, maybe, or fear.

“Fine,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best effort to hold steady. “Maybe it was.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Neither of you moves, the weight of the argument hanging between you like a storm cloud ready to burst.

“Great,” Louis finally mutters, stepping back. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You shake your head, swallowing hard as you turn on your heel and storm toward your bunk, every step heavy with frustration, hurt, and something else��something raw and unresolved.

...

The bus is eerily quiet now, save for the low rumble of the engine and the occasional creak of the chassis. The others are all asleep in their bunks, the faint sounds of steady breathing drifting through the narrow hallway. But you’re wide awake, your mind replaying the argument with Louis on an endless loop.

You can’t take it anymore.

Sliding out of your own bunk as quietly as you can, you make your way toward the back of the bus where Louis’s curtain is drawn shut. For a moment, you hesitate, your hand hovering just inches from the fabric. You tell yourself this is a bad idea, that you should just let it go and sleep it off. But you don’t.

You pull the curtain back just enough to slip inside, the dim light from the corridor illuminating Louis’s sleeping face. He’s on his side, one arm tucked beneath his head, his features softened by sleep.

“Lou,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the hum of the bus.

He stirs, his brow furrowing before his eyes blink open. For a split second, he looks confused, but then he sees you, and his expression hardens.

“What are you doing here?” he mutters, his voice low and groggy.

You kneel in the cramped space, your heart pounding. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Not my problem,” he replies, turning his back to you.

The coldness in his tone stings, but you don’t back down. “I’m not leaving,” you say firmly, your hand resting on his shoulder. He tenses under your touch but doesn’t move away. “We can’t leave things like this, Louis. I hate it.”

He sighs, rolling onto his back to look at you, his blue eyes shadowed in the low light. “Why do you care?” he asks, his voice quieter now, laced with frustration. “You made it pretty clear earlier that it doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not what I meant,” you whisper, the knot in your chest tightening. “You know it’s not.”

He stares at you for a long moment, his gaze searching yours as if he’s trying to decide whether to believe you. Then, finally, he reaches up, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “You drive me mad, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

“You’re not exactly easy to handle yourself,” you reply, your breath hitching as his hand slides into your hair, pulling you closer.

The tension that had been simmering between you all night explodes in an instant. His lips crash against yours, the kiss desperate and hungry, as if it’s the only way to burn away the anger and frustration still lingering between you.

Louis doesn’t give you a chance to catch your breath. As soon as your bodies press together, he flips you beneath him with a roughness that sends a thrill straight through you. The bunk is cramped, the walls pressing in around you, but none of that matters when he’s this close, his weight pinning you down, his mouth hot and insistent against yours.

“You drive me insane,” he growls against your lips, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. “Sneaking around with Niall, laughing like I’m not right here—like I don’t see everything.”

“I wasn’t—” you start to protest, but he cuts you off with another searing kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what you do to me.”

You swallow hard, your pulse pounding as his words sink in. There’s no mistaking the fire in his eyes, the raw intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“I wasn’t trying to make you jealous,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts defiance and desire.

“Well, you did,” he mutters, his hand sliding beneath your shirt, the rough calluses on his fingers sending shivers across your skin. “And now I’m going to remind you who you belong to.”

The possessiveness in his tone should probably annoy you, but instead, it sends a surge of heat straight through you. He doesn’t wait for your reply, his lips trailing down your neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as you arch beneath him.

“Louis,” you gasp, your hands fisting in his shirt, trying to pull him closer, but he’s in control now, and he knows it.

“You’ve got no idea how much you wind me up,” he mutters, his voice muffled as he works his way lower, tugging your shirt up and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your stomach. “But you’re mine. Got it?”

“Yours,” you breathe, the word tumbling out before you can think to stop it.

“Damn right you are,” he growls, coming back up to capture your lips in another bruising kiss. His hands are everywhere—gripping, exploring, claiming—and it’s all you can do to keep up, your body responding to him with a desperation that matches his own.

Louis’s hand presses over your mouth as you arch beneath him, your muffled moan swallowed by his palm. “Shh,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear. “You don’t want to wake them, do you?”

The warning is sharp, but his voice holds an edge of amusement, like he’s relishing the power he has over you. Your heart pounds against your ribs, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. The cramped bunk feels smaller than ever, his weight pressing you down, his hands rough as they roam your body.

You nod beneath his hand, your breath hot and quick against his palm. His blue eyes burn into yours, a mixture of challenge and heat. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his tone dark and possessive, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

His fingers trail down your side, dragging over your bare skin with enough pressure to leave you squirming. The cool air of the bus bites against the heat of your flushed skin, every touch from him a maddening contrast between soft and rough, tender and demanding.

“Look at you,” he mutters, his free hand slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. “You’re so desperate, aren’t you?”

You try to shake your head, but he doesn’t let you. His thumb presses against your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Don’t lie,” he growls, his fingers teasing you with agonizing slowness. “I can feel it. You’ve been like this all night, haven’t you? Thinking about me. Wanting this.”

A muffled whimper escapes from behind his hand, your body betraying you as you press against him. The knowing smirk on his face only makes it worse, his cocky confidence fueling the fire building inside you.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, his voice barely audible, more vibration than sound as his lips brush against your throat. His teeth scrape along your pulse, sharp and deliberate, drawing a gasp from you that he quickly silences with a stern look.

“Quiet,” he warns again, his hand tightening on your hip. “Unless you want the others to know what we’re doing in here.”

The thought sends a flush of heat across your cheeks, but the thrill of the risk only heightens everything. Your senses are overwhelmed—the smell of him, the faint spice of his cologne mixed with the salt of sweat; the sound of his breathing, rough and uneven in your ear; the way his hands and mouth move like they’re staking a claim.

When his fingers finally dip lower, finding you soaked and ready, he groans softly against your neck. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he mutters, his voice rough with restraint. “So ready for me.”

You bite down on his palm to keep from crying out, the pressure of his touch sending sparks through your veins. He works you expertly, his movements precise and unrelenting, dragging you closer and closer to the edge.

Your hips buck against him, your body chasing the release that feels just out of reach. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, “Not yet. I want you to hold on for me, love. Think you can do that?”

You shake your head frantically, your breaths ragged behind his hand. He chuckles softly, the sound low and dark. “Too bad,” he says, his fingers moving faster now, pushing you closer to the breaking point. “But you keep quiet, yeah? Can’t have the others finding out how loud you get for me.”

The knot in your stomach tightens, your body trembling beneath him as you teeter on the edge. He’s relentless, his touch driving you to the point of no return, and when you finally crash, it’s like every nerve in your body ignites at once.

Your muffled cry is swallowed by his hand as you shudder beneath him, his body pressing you down, holding you together as you fall apart. The intensity leaves you breathless, your skin slick with sweat, your limbs heavy and shaking.

Louis doesn’t let go immediately, his fingers easing you through the aftershocks as his lips press soft, lingering kisses along your jaw. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice soothing now, though the possessiveness hasn’t faded. “You’re mine, yeah? Say it.”

You nod weakly, your voice barely above a whisper as you finally manage to speak. “Yours.”

You’re still trembling from the aftershocks of the first wave, but Louis isn’t finished with you yet. His lips trail down your neck, soft at first, but then they grow more urgent, more demanding as his hands move back to your body, caressing and pulling you closer.

“Did I say you could rest?” he growls in your ear, his voice rough, still thick with desire.

You shiver, the remnants of your orgasm still buzzing through you, but you’re already so hot, so aching for him. Your body responds before your mind can catch up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer as he hovers over you.

Louis chuckles low in his throat, a sound that’s almost predatory, and his eyes lock onto yours, his expression dark and full of purpose. “I love how eager you are. But you’re not in control here.”

Without warning, he flips you over, your chest pressing against the cool, soft sheets of the bunk. His hand is at the small of your back, pushing you down as he hovers above you, his breath hot against your skin. You’re so exposed in this position, so vulnerable, and the way he’s taking charge makes your pulse race.

“Don’t even think about making a sound,” he murmurs, his voice barely a breath in your ear. “You’re going to be quiet, right?”

You nod quickly, the air thick with tension. His hand slides down your spine, the heat of his touch sending a shiver through you. “Good,” he says, his lips trailing a line down the back of your neck.

Then, without any more warning, he’s back between your legs, his fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts and yanking them down, leaving you completely exposed to him. You gasp, your breath catching in your throat, but you bite your lip, trying to stay silent as he continues.

He spreads your legs apart, the movement possessive, and you feel the cool air of the bus against your damp skin. Louis watches you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip, his eyes never leaving yours as he positions himself.

“You’re mine,” he says again, his voice almost a growl, and you feel the weight of his words, the authority behind them.

And then he’s inside you, all heat and friction as he drives into you hard, filling you completely. You suck in a breath, your hands gripping the edge of the bunk as your body tries to adjust to the sudden force.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust, not that you’d want him to. Louis is relentless, his rhythm pounding, pushing you forward into a frenzy, and you can’t help but let out a breathy gasp.

He immediately places his hand over your mouth again, silencing you before you can make a sound. “I said quiet,” he warns, his tone a low rasp. His hips snap against yours with force, the pressure making your whole body shake as he takes control of every movement, every part of you.

The world outside the bus disappears. There’s nothing but the sounds of your bodies colliding, the rhythm of his thrusts filling the small space, the harsh, desperate need building between you. You can’t think, can’t do anything except feel, feel the heat of his body against yours, feel the way he’s forcing you to come apart with every stroke.

Your body burns with every passing second, every inch of you drawn tight, coiled and straining as he brings you closer. The only sound you’re allowed to make is muffled behind his hand, but that only makes everything feel more intense, more urgent. You can feel yourself unraveling again, the pleasure building faster this time.

Louis can tell. He slows his pace just enough to draw it out, to make you ache, make you beg without words, until you’re almost pleading for release. And when he finally picks up the pace again, it’s overwhelming.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you bite down on his hand to keep from crying out. Every inch of you is on fire, your nerves a tangled mess of pleasure and desperation. You can’t hold back anymore.

“Please,” you manage to gasp, your voice muffled but desperate. “I—Louis, I—”

“Shh,” he breathes, pressing his palm harder against your mouth as he slams into you, his pace unforgiving, relentless. “I know, love. I know.”

And then it’s too much. Your body shudders beneath him, the tension inside you snapping like a tight wire, and you come hard, your whole body shaking in release. The only thing that grounds you is the firm press of his hand, keeping you quiet as your mind spins in a haze of pleasure.

Louis doesn’t stop, not even when you’re trembling beneath him, your body still pulsing with the aftermath. He continues to move, his pace unyielding, pulling you closer to the edge again as he chases his own release.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hand finally leaving your mouth as he holds your body close, pressing you against him, the sweat slicking both of you. “You’re perfect.”

His thrusts get more erratic, and with one final push, he reaches his peak, his body tensing as he groans your name, the sound rough and guttural, like a man finally getting what he’s been craving.

You collapse beneath him, your body spent, both of you breathing heavily in the quiet of the bus, the only sound the distant hum of the engine.

Louis takes a moment to catch his breath before collapsing beside you, his arm pulling you close, his fingers running through your hair.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” he mutters, his voice a low rasp, full of that same intensity. “But for now... let’s just get some rest.”

You nod, your body still humming with the intensity of the moment, and let yourself relax against him, the weight of everything—your bodies, your emotions, the tension that had been building all night—finally starting to settle.

...

The next morning soft hum of the tour bus engine is a steady background noise as you try to fall back asleep, your body comfortably nestled against Louis’s. The warmth of his arm around you is grounding, though the weight of your secret makes everything feel a little heavier than it should. You’ve been sneaking around for weeks now, and it’s only a matter of time before someone catches on.

You’re caught somewhere between waking and sleeping when you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps—heavy and purposeful—outside your bunk.

Liam.

Your heart leaps in your chest.

Louis, still blissfully unaware, remains completely still, his arm tight around your waist. He doesn’t even stir. You freeze, holding your breath, but the panic starts to rise when the sound of footsteps gets louder, closer, until the soft knock you’ve been dreading comes.

“Oi, are you two up yet?” Liam’s voice, playful but tinged with annoyance, comes from the other side of the curtain.

Shit.

Louis shifts slightly, but his hold doesn’t loosen. “Just stay still. Don’t make a sound,” he murmurs into your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

You barely breathe, willing yourself to remain calm, but your pulse is racing. And then… the curtain is yanked back.

The world outside is suddenly exposed, and the weight of reality crashes into you in that one terrifying moment.

Liam stands there, blinking in confusion, his eyes flicking from you to Louis. His mouth opens as if he’s about to say something but nothing comes out at first. Behind him, the rest of the band—all four of them—are gathered. Zayn, arms crossed and looking thoroughly unimpressed, is standing beside Harry, who’s wearing an amused grin, clearly enjoying the sight. But it’s Niall who catches your eye last. He’s leaning against the side of the bus, a smirk tugging at his lips, as if he already knows exactly what’s been going on.

Liam is the first to break the silence, his voice incredulous. “What the actual fuck?” His eyebrows are furrowed, and you can see his mind working overtime, trying to process the sight in front of him. “You two… really?”

Louis, ever the cool-headed one, just raises a single brow, his body still pressed against yours like this is just another normal morning. “Morning, mate,” he says smoothly, stretching lazily, as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

You, on the other hand, are frozen in place. You can’t hide your embarrassment, the heat creeping up your neck as you stare at the four of them, each one taking in the scene in their own way.

Harry chuckles first, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Well, well, well,” he says, leaning back slightly as though this is all one big joke to him. “Didn’t think we’d be waking up to this. You two been keeping this little secret to yourselves, huh?”

Zayn crosses his arms, the look on his face more unreadable than anything else. He glances at Louis, then at you, and simply shakes his head, barely hiding a smirk. “Never thought you were the type, mate,” he says to Louis, his tone a mix of sarcasm and amusement.

But it’s Niall who surprises you the most. He doesn’t look shocked at all. In fact, he just leans against the wall with a shit-eating grin, as if he’s been waiting for this moment. “Guess we all know who’s been sharing a bunk,” Niall says, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Should’ve known.”

You want to die. The entire band is standing there, staring, and you can’t even hide your face.

Liam, still in disbelief, takes a step back, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t even know what to say,” he mutters, half to himself. “What the hell is going on in here, Louis?”

Louis’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Nothing you need to worry about, mate. We’re just getting some rest, that’s all,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal. He adjusts himself, pulling you closer for effect, clearly loving the chaos.

“You two are unbelievable,” Liam mutters under his breath, though it’s not exactly in anger. It’s more like he’s resigned himself to the absurdity of it all.

Harry leans forward, clearly enjoying the moment. “Come on, mate,” he says to Liam, a teasing edge to his voice. “You know Louis. He’s always the one to keep us on our toes.”

Zayn just shrugs. “Not surprised, honestly,” he says, his tone a bit dry. “We’ve all been on this bus for months now. Could’ve seen this coming.”

Liam, still trying to process, looks at you with a raised brow. “How long has this been going on?”

Louis, completely unfazed, shrugs. “Long enough,” he says with that familiar devil-may-care attitude. “You lot need to lighten up. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Niall chuckles, crossing his arms and looking at you both. “Yeah, mate, don’t act like we didn’t all know. Just surprised you kept it under wraps for so long.”

Liam just gapes, his face going a little red as if trying to figure out what to do with himself. “This is insane. Are you kidding me?” He pauses, looking at the three of them and then back to you and Louis. “Can you, like, not keep it down a bit? We’re all trying to sleep, yeah?”

Louis grins widely. “Sure thing, mate,” he replies, his voice dripping with sarcasm, not an ounce of shame in his demeanor.

Liam throws his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t even know why I bother with you,” he says, shaking his head as he pulls the curtain back over the bunk. “Just… keep it quiet next time. I don’t need this on my conscience.”

As the curtain slides back into place, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The bus seems quieter now, but the tension is still thick in the air. Louis, of course, is the first to break the silence. He pulls you back against him, his voice low and playful.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” he says, flashing you a grin. “We survived the interrogation. And now, we can get back to our business, yeah?”

You want to strangle him for being so carefree about the whole thing, but at the same time, part of you can’t help but laugh at how little he cares. This is Louis Tomlinson, after all.

#one direction fanfiction #one direction x reader #one direction x y/n #louis tomlinson x y/n #louis tomlinson x reader #louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson fanfiction

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