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dimeadozencows · 3 days ago

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My best explanation of our newest resident freak; Ramb.

Character analysis, loose ends, and questions.

I hope you like long winded “under the cut” posts about the obscure lore of irrelevant side characters.

(don't worry, I'm adhd, there's pictures and gifs.)

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This is both an outlet for me to yell my thoughts and emotions about a fictional British power strip into the void, and an explanation on what the fuck happened to me for the people who followed me for gaster (sorry to those people, btw :’))

This will be divided into sections so that if you're specifically interested in one topic about him, then you could just skip to it! :]

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The sections are:

First impressions; sword-route first timers VS casual players

Character analysis

The matter of ERAM.

Red flags (the red stands for “is this the secret boss?”)

Red flags 2 (the red stands for “is he okay”)

He's just a red herring, right? (well…)

What he is in this story, and will he be more? (Conclusion)

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Let's get cracking.

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First impressions; sword route first timers VS casual players.

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This section will go over what you'd see from him on a standard run, and won't go too into analysis. It's mainly here if you aren't very familiar with his appearances in the game or need a refresher!

Feel free to skip to Character Analysis if you think this section will be redundant for you :]

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(I really wanted to have this section be a part of the full post, but it's. Almost half of the entire thing. Also it ate up the 30 images limit.)

(So here, I posted it separately! Have a read through it if you wanna! <3)

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Character analysis:

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So… we sure do learn a lot about this random guy, huh?

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First off, you’ve probably noticed that he’s very contradictory;

He’s caring and kind towards Kris, but he fully believes his intuition about them, and never thinks he might be wrong and should hear them out (although, with how much he’s shown to care about them, I'm sure that if Kris could and would speak out, he’ll listen to them. But they can’t, because of us)

He's extremely confident, overly self assured, to the point of getting perceived as egotistical by the other darkners, but he doesn't think of himself that highly, equating himself to his light world counterpart many times as if he isn't a person now, and being fully willing to give his life up for kris.

He’s said to be condescending to others, at least at first, but we’ve only seen kindness and care from him, probably because we’re talking to him as Kris. But his jokes and down to earth attitude seem integral to his character, and we know he didn't do anything worse than just look out for Kris.

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These contraindications are a part of why he seems so shady to people, how can he be all these things at once? He has to be lying.

But this is just being a complicated person, like everyone else. And if you'll continue reading you’ll see that these inconsistencies actually make a lot of sense :] i’ll try my best to go through everything!

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(this segment is a bit all over the place since it’s the first one i wrote, but there's a summary at the end :])

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Let's start with how he confident he is about his beliefs;

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I saw someone say that he's acting in the way a parasocial fan would, and while I get where they're coming from what with him reiterating "I know what you really want" a lot-

but it feels less like he's putting them on a pedestal and objectifying them (in fact, he's doing the complete opposite and objectifying himself) and more like he's that well meaning, distant older relative who adored you when you were younger, and hasn't yet caught up to the fact that you grew up.

A person who used to know you, who knew the child you were, and their love for you from back then still blinds them to how you've changed.

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Mixed with his overconfidence, it makes sense that he’d believe that he knows Kris as well as they know themselves, while completely oblivious to his own blindness.

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But how can he be so self assured but still view himself as lowly?

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That's because we're playing as Kris! I doubt he’d talk about himself that way to anyone else.

Kris, and how they made him feel important, is the source of his confidence. He was loved and wanted by them, and so he feels like he owes them everything. Even his own life.

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Another interpretation is that his loneliness (which we will get to) lowered his self worth outside of being Kris's toy, and he feels like that is the only thing that gives him value.

So his personality isn't completely demolished, but he doesn't really invest much time or thought into himself as a person (evidenced by how he never talked about himself to the other darkners, only about Kris.)

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you'd think that a character with an inflated ego, like he’s said to have, would be self-absorbed and egotistical, but not him. He seems to diminish his presence when speaking with Kris, never going into detail about himself.

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But with how off putting his behaviour is, it's really hard to believe he has our best interest at heart- he constantly remarks how he knows what kris “truly wants”, and he really wants us to play the creepy game in the console room-

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We’ll get to the nature behind the game in a future segment (the matter of Eram), but for now let's just assume he really does want us to have fun;

His off putting behavior stems from a lack of tact. He's stuck in the memories of the Dreemurr family’s past, and he’s sure that Kris remembers him fondly. And maybe they would’ve, but I doubt they want to think about anything from their past considering… everything.

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Speaking of their past! We weren't there! We didn't see the playing and fun they had together, most of the time when we play Deltarune we don't even think about kris- we just play the game.

To us Ramb is a stranger being overly familiar- to Ramb, he’s catching up with an old friend, and he has no idea how much they’ve changed.

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Also, he doesn't force you to play the game! He doesn't even bring it up in the green room until after round 2, and only if you tell him you aren't having fun with Tenna. There's no pressure on you to finish all the levels if you only started one, either.

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(telling him that you are having enough fun with Tenna)

It's on our terms, and for our fun. He keeps going with it because we keep coming back. By his own admission, his purpose is to let us (Kris) have fun.

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Additionally, we can't ignore the silly. He's implied to be a jokester! The classics you've come to expect from these games; like sans, jevil, and even spamton, a little guy who makes funny faces and tells jokes.

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I also want to bring up his expressions; half of his sprites have that worrying, almost troubled expression, that gives the things he says a caring and gentle feeling. It's a part of the over-familiarity. From someone you know this would be fine, but he’s this way with us from the second we meet him.

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Now, let's bring up this bit of dialogue from before you start the second level of the mantle game:

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The first time I read this dialogue I was stun locked for a moment. He could've just admitted to feeling lonely. He could've just outright said it, it wouldn't feel out of place in this story, Tenna admitted to it multiple times even. But Ramb didn't.

Instead, he said that if after the fountain is sealed, then if Kris felt like waking up their house again then they could. If they wanted that to happen.

Fine, weird line from him, he's got plenty.

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"Sorry Kris. I don't know what I was saying there. Just go and enjoy the games, eh? cheers."

He felt embarrassed about admitting to feeling lonely! He always puts Kris first before anything else, and for a moment, he didn't. For a moment he mentioned that he'd like it if Kris came back after this was all over. That was weird, I'm sorry for saying that.

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From this we can learn that he really does feel alone. His one friend will be gone soon, and that's okay, they have to leave. But it’d be nice if they came back one day. not that he’s comfortable with admitting this to us.

(This is also a hint that he knows Kris created the fountain!)

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His similarities to Tenna :

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Looking at the core of their characters, Ramb was written as almost another version of what Tenna is. They both care about Kris so much, they’re both lonely, ageing and growing obsolete and they know it. The differences are in how they take it.

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Tenna is trying his best to cling to the past in fear of being thrown away, he's trying to prove to Kris that he's useful, fun, and could give them what they've been missing. This joyous nostalgic feeling they left in their childhood alongside everything that made them happy.

Throughout this entire chapter Tenna is trying to drag Kris back to that, back to him. He forces it on them when they don't comply, and fights them when they want to leave.

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and yes a part of that is because of the knight's promise, that if he’ll do this he’ll be adored again. But to ignore the part of his motivation that's specific to Kris and the Dreemurr family as a whole would be a disservice to his character. He cares about Kris and he misses them so much, he misses what he was to them back when they needed him. He wants them to need him again.

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Meanwhile Ramb is just as aware of his growing obsolescence as tenna is, but he seems to accept it. knowing that eventually, naturally, they’ll all be worthless.

It's a part of his role as a secret boss red herring (which I will elaborate on in its own section), a darkner who mentions their own insignificance and nihilistically accepts it naturally makes us wonder what else they're thinking about and what they know.

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Ramb accepts his approaching end and decides to go out with a bang. He sets up another game like the ones they loved playing and gives them the option whether to actually play it or not.

Don't get me wrong, he absolutely clings to kris (or more like the memory of them as a child) just like Tenna does, but there's a difference in how they go about their emotions that sets them apart as characters, and makes it so understandable that they wouldn't be fond of each other.

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While Tenna is stuck in the past because his self worth is dependent on it, Ramb is stuck in the past because instead of trying to make new connections in the new place he was brought to, he clung to and still clings to the first and only person who showed him love.

Ramb is completely okay with becoming obsolete, while Tenna’s life spiraled because he couldn't handle it. Tenna is desperate and controlling (fits his position as this dark world’s ruler and also his deal with the knight), while Ramb only gives you one hint to get S-rank, and only if you tell him you think Tenna's games aren't fun.

Tenna is constantly second guessing himself and worrying over doing a good job, while ramb’s excessive confidence makes him 100% sure that he knows exactly what Kris wants, and that they’ll love the games he’s offering more than Tenna’s.

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They originate from the “same root” in a sense, but due to their different personalities, they’re complete opposites in the way they handle knowing they’re no longer as meaningful to their loved ones as they used to be.

Also, I'd feel remiss not to mention that Ramb quit his job while on a call with Tenna, then hung up on him.

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We don't talk about this enough me thinks. He's such a piece of shit sometimes lmfao

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I wish we got to see Ramb interacting with other people besides Kris, I think it would tell us a lot. Because he made so much of who he is about Kris, then of course his behavior would be one way with them, and different with others. How drastically it would change would say a lot about him as a person.

We did get it with Tenna a little, but he generally doesn't like him for reasons that seem to be unrelated to kris

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In conclusion:

To us (Kris), Ramb is a friendly, self-assured (if a little bit arrogant) guy.

He clearly cares about and loves Kris a lot, calling them luv at every opportunity and trying to better their experience in this dark world by giving them access to what he thinks is a better game than what they got.

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The things he says to Kris and his worrying expression give him a caring and gentle air, which can have the opposite effect and come off as too forward and overstep boundaries for a lot of people.

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He's acting overly familiar with Kris, remembering them fondly from their time together as lightner and toy, and he’s sure that Kris is on the same page as him.

And although we can't really know for sure, because Kris doesn't express their feelings or thoughts, we can assume that their bond fizzled out on Kris's end. because since the last time Ramb knew them, they’ve put everything that made them happy as a kid aside.

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He's extremely confident, believing himself to be the one who knows Kris the best out of anyone here, and he’s sure they’ll love the original game from before Tenna messed with it a lot more than what they got in his game show.

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Even though he’s very confident, and it's viewed as him having an ego by his peers, he's not egotistical. as his confidence stems from being loved by Kris, and believing himself to know them the best, not thinking that he’s the best, as would be assumed of a character with an “ego”.

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Additionally, despite his obvious confidence, he seems to have relatively low-self worth outside of being Kris's toy, equating himself to his lightworld form often and never elaborating on himself as the person he is now, to us or the other darkners.

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As time goes on we learn that he's deeply lonely, doesn’t have any friends or anyone that really likes him, and it has been that way for a while. Pretty much since he was brought to the dreemurr house.

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Despite how lonely he is, and how much of his life revolves around Kris, he never imposes himself on them. There’s no point in the game where we have to speak with him.

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We don't know much about his side in his relationships, but he specifically doesn't really care for his boss Tenna, and thinks he and his games are boring.

Maybe he never really wanted the job that was given to him to get rid of him, since he’s the first one to actively tell Tenna that he’s quitting. He then proceeds to hang up in his face.

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Despite knowing that Kris is the creator of his fountain, he doesn't worship them or objectify them as a god, nor does he treat Kris the way darkners created by the knight treat the knight, their creator, with fear and admiration.

He acts more like one of your detached older family members who don't yet understand that you grew up. (His self diminishing seems to stem from low self worth and not worship.)

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Additionally, Ramb seems to not really care about respecting authority, a trait that is rare for darkners.

like how he treats Kris like family and not authority, And how he gives us access to the original game against Tenna’s wishes. Although it's important to mention that he thinks of himself as lesser than Kris.

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He's fully willing to sacrifice himself for us, to give himself up completely, if there is a chance that his efforts will work and Kris will have fun.

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The matter of ERAM.

And why they're not actually the same person (hear me out it makes ramb a better character.)

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I get why people are fond of it. Ramb being the person behind eram would be awesome and a cool twist for his character and add to his significance in the story.

And by all means! Go for it! It makes for an awesome visual and cool art!!

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But hear me out… when it comes to the intent of the story… narratively, it doesn't make any sense.

Sometimes kindness and seemingly well meaning actions in this game really are just that.

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Now before we begin, let's establish some things;

First of all; without anyone asking him to, Ramb has sacrificed a lot for Kris.

He gave up the opportunity to make any connections in the new place he was brought to, by always commenting on others and their work. This made him alienated from anyone he could've been friends with, because he staked everything he is and could’ve had on his purpose to his lightner.

In the path where you don't humor him, you end up learning how lonely he truly was, how no one could stand him, and how much his caring for and loving you alienated him, to the point of complete social isolation. To the point where he felt like he didn't belong where he was, and was already turning to stone on the inside a long time ago.

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His ostracization was mostly his doing, and it is rooted in caring.

(If there was any other reason that Ramb was outcasted, then the pippins who clearly disliked him wouldn't protect his image and would tell us.)

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And secondly; The mantle game changes with the insertion of the oddcontroller.

When you first turn on the console, the title screen comes up just like it does at the beginning of “The legend of Tenna”, Tenna’s version of the game. But no controller is connected and the console turns off. Leaving the room, we find the oddcontroller on the ground, it is said to have pink and yellow buttons.

When the oddcontroller is connected to the console, The game immediately glitches out and shows our soul, us, inside 8bit kris. That never happens in any other variation of the game.

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Everytime you play the game again, the title screen comes up like normal. Kris then connects the oddcontroller, the game glitches out, and shows us the soul. It seems that the thing causing the difference is the act of connecting the controller.

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Here are the main reasons i've seen for why people think Eram is Ramb:

Ramb is very off putting

They have similar names

Ramb really wants us to play his game, and it turns out to be a horrifying experience for kris

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Let's tackle em’!

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Ramb is very off putting.

That's by design! He’s supposed to evoke that feeling you get from distant family relatives who remember you from when you were younger, but you have no memory of them.

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Kris has been through a lot, we still don't know the exact events, but trauma is obvious and prevalent in their character. They've since put a lot of their joy aside. Their room is empty, they don't watch tv or play games anymore, they don't visit noelle, even just to play her piano, preferring the one in the hospital.

And Ramb is an old toy of Kris', from when they were a child. It wouldn't be unlikely that the last time they played with him was before they put their joys aside.

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Ramb would have no way of knowing everything that's gone on with Kris since they last saw each other, and he’d assume that their life’s just naturally continued without him, but remain sure that they still remember him fondly.

He views himself as your old friend, because that's what Kris and him were before, he doesn't know who Kris is anymore, and he has no idea.

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And on top of that, YOU as the player weren't there for it all- you didn't see Kris playing with Ramb, and you didn't see Ramb being happy to assist Kris in having fun. To you, Ramb is a stranger, and him acting overly familiar with you causes discomfort and unease.

And Ramb is only speaking with Kris, because he has no idea you're there controlling them.

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They have similar names

That they do, Eram and Ramb are only one letter apart. But does Ralsei having a name that's a 1 to 1 of Asriels, and even seemingly having similar personalities make them the same person? No, and I hope to god you don't still believe that. Please believe me when i say that Toby wouldn't put incest in his game.

Eram and Ramb are opposites. Ramb only wants Kris to have fun, while Eram is obsessed with making Kris suffer. Ramb wants us to play a game where we get to make choices, and Eram forces us to play the one route the oddcontroller allows for.

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(Also, stupidly, Eram isn't british)

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3. Ramb really wants us to play his game, and it turns out to be a horrifying experience for kris

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It's a little weird that Ramb tells us that this is a game where we decide what to do, but the only way to progress is through killing. Which is part of why people think he’s very sketchy and a liar.

But what if the original game, before the insertion of the oddcontroller, was exactly that? A game similar to undertale, where there are different paths you can take, where your choices determine the kind of game you play? A game where you CAN make choices?

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But with the oddcontroller, there’s only one path. only one option, a glitchy, game breaking option, the weird route.

I'd also like to bring up the name “odd controller”, in relation to what we do in the game and what that stands for- Odd is another word for weird.

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But sure, maybe Ramb was the one who put the odd controller in the hallway outside the console room, he is standing right outside the door after all. But if it's true that Ramb’s intention was for us to play the game with this controller, why not give it to us when we enter the room? We have to speak with him to enter anyway.

And why say that he “set up the game for us” if there's no controller connected? Just to wait a few seconds to leave it in the hallway?

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This is a story, fully written in advance. If the intention was for us to suspect or think this corrupt version of the game is what Ramb intended for us to play, why not have the oddcontroller already connected to the console? Then we as players would have no doubt that this experience was this character’s full intention.

That part, where you have to leave the room to find a controller that is different from the ones you're used to, seems to be there to separate Ramb from whoever wants us to play the mantle game’s version of the weird route.

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

But hold on, what if Ramb is intentionally putting on a front, acting and lying to make us believe his two personas?

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…why? What would he gain from that? He already gets us curious enough to play the game as Ramb, why continue to put up a front even when he and Kris are completely alone, even at the very last moments of his life?

Speaking of which, how is he able to battle Kris as Eram when he’s shown to be almost fully stone, and unable to move himself enough to unblock the entry? To turn and look at us? How would he use a controller?

If he’s faking being stone too, then how? And what’s the reason? What does he gain?

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Also, if we are assuming he’s lying; then everything, his feelings, his character and his emotional issues, None of it was real. All that nuance, depth, character, It was all fake, a lie. For the plot twist that in fact he actually… thinks we're weird for enjoying the game?

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Narratively, it doesn't make sense. If he’s lying, why not reveal it? In his last moments with us, as Eram or Ramb, why not reveal that this entire time he just wanted us to suffer?

If he’s lying, then why are we repeatedly told, so many times, how lonely he was? How much he cared about Kris? Why is it said to us after he’s already gone, on the path where you don't even play his game, when the lie wouldn't matter?

The story doesn't benefit from the unclarity that this brings once Ramb and Eram are both already gone.

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I know that the main reason behind this theory is Ramb’s off-putting over familiarity, combined with the horrors the game harbours and how happy he is to show it to us.

But if you take his word that he really didn't see anyone come in (maybe whoever is behind Eram doesn't need to use the door), and look at the context of his life as this lonely guy suddenly seeing the god who gave him purpose as their toy, and brought him to life with the fountain, and understand that yeah, he’d be ecstatic.

Then him honestly looking out for Kris at every opportunity, even before he saw them again, makes a lot more sense than an unprovoked backstab.

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Eram has no issue with harming the real kris, both physically and emotionally. Before the fight begins, Eram taunts Kris, goes along with the game that's slowly changing from a standard rpg to a horror show about Kris's life and struggles.

If the player is on the weird route, they even accuse Kris of being a hypocrite, saying they’re blaming the soul for all the harm they caused, trying to feel better about themselves. And in the fight against them Kris takes real damage and can die.

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If Ramb were actually the one behind eram, then he was lying when he was looking out for what's best for Kris even when they weren't there… because? He alienated himself by constantly lying about caring for Kris… because??... and him letting himself die for us to continue having the fun he’s sure we're having… just to make fun of us- why??

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Remember that pippins who tells us all about how much ramb sucked and everyone hated him- If there was malice in Ramb’s intentions or behind his actions before we entered the dark world, that pippins would be the last person to hide it from us! Y’know, cus they hate him!!

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Ramb’s story is empty on purpose, it's supposed to be like this. It's supposed to give you the feeling of “this isn't all he is, right?” It's abnormally sad and I wish I could say that this is just me going overboard with my analysis of him, but this is literally just his actions and what we were told about him.

Ramb was written as the red herring for this chapter's secret boss, to me the twist about him was that after all of that he ended up to not be important, that after all of the hints and the winks, it turns out he doesn't know shit.

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Making him the person behind a character that clearly knows a lot and doesn't much care for Kris's well-being, erasing and warping the sincerity of everything he did, would take away from the gut punch that his last conversation with Kris or the explanation from that Pippins is trying to give us.

It would make for a hell of a twist, but is it worth it narratively? Does it make sense? Like no not at all. We're learning about this sad older guy trying to make the one person he’s sure still likes him happy no matter the cost, even if it costs him his life.

Just for a twist that he thinks they're weird for enjoying the games that he wanted them to play??

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So if Ramb isn't eram, who is?

I don't know, this post is about Ramb!!

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But I do have a guess that I'm rather confident about. I won't go into detail about it here cus i already derail this post at every opportunity, and also I want to write another dissertation of the mantle games specifically, separate from Ramb, so I'll save this for another time.

But in short, it’s Friend. And this was our first real look at them as a character and their role and purpose in this story.

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Red flags (the red stands for “is this the secret boss?”)

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I'm sure that a large majority of first time players looked at this manlet going on and on about “freedom”, and immediately thought that he’ll be the secret boss. Since, y’know, that was by design!

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Ramb was written to tick all the boxes of a secret boss. he’s short, hinted at being knowledgeable about things he shouldn't be, “freedom”, constantly referring to kris by name, quoting both Jevil and Spamton, playing a role only outside the main story, hell even the fact that he speaks differently than the rest of the darkners-

We're meant to look at him and immediately assume that at some point we’ll fight him and get the shadow crystal. Just like we assumed we’ll seal the fountain at the end of the chapter, and get a light world segment before going back home, watch Kris rip out their soul, and roll credits.

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Chapter 3 throws all of that out the window! And Ramb is a part of it. We assumed we know the way secret bosses work and will play out for the rest of the game, a part of the “Deltarune formula” that we were so convinced of. But we were wrong!

The way chapter 3 flirts with it and then completely shatters it and our expectations of what will be is a part of why i love these games so much.

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When a player stumbles upon a petrified Ramb, the thought that they messed up the sequence that leads up to the secret boss might cross their mind. While a player who got to the end of the sword game and watched as Ramb disappeared after the shadow mantle was acquired might feel confused;

yeah i just finished a cool mini boss, but that's hardly a secret boss, and i didn't even get a shadow crystal. wasn't that the lead up to something with the little guy?

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And when the lord of screens is cleaved red by blade is when it all shatters- we’d assume that after the fight with Tenna, Ralsei and Susie will talk to him, he’ll want to come to our castle town, we seal the fountain, ect ect. But instead, he falls to the ground, unconscious, and we are faced with the knight.

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We don't get to seal the fountain, we don't get a light world segment, and we don't get to see Kris rip us out. We don't get a secret boss. Deltarune was never meant to be predicted!

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Ramb, as the character that he is, is a part of the aforementioned flirting with the concept of a formula. Cus we do get a weird little guy who's spouting nonsense and acting odd- but he's not the secret boss, because we don't get one this chapter.

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(you might say that the knight is the secret boss… but aren't those supposed to be like… secret? The battle with the knight is unavoidable, and CAN be beaten without the shadow mantle if you just don't get hit- so… it's just a regular battle like Tenna or Queen. Just an extremely tough one that you're meant to die to at the end.

If you survive for long enough you get a weapon and a crystal, but guys-

The fight isn’t hidden. It's unavoidable. It can be beaten even without the shadow mantle. The flavor text “The air crackles with freedom” doesn’t show up in the fight. The knight doesn't have the freedom leitmotif in its theme.

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Before the chapter came out I was lamenting on what “no mantle, no crystal.” means. I thought that we’d acquire the shadow mantle somehow and only then will the battle be able to trigger, like without it there wouldn't even be a fight! (Like how you can’t climb without the gear that jackenstein gives you.)

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I'm of the opinion that we shouldn't expect all the chapters to play out exactly the way we thought, not having a standard secret boss encounter this chapter was intentional, and there's no real reason to try and fit the knight or Eram into boxes they don't fit-

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So… what all this talk about Ramb as if he actually was the secret boss? If he truly is just a red herring gotcha moment side character npc, why the 16K words essay?

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As much as I want to keep my expectations grounded, there are certain things that don't fit the description of just “red herring”. I truly wish he was just that, and could be spared from the horrors of being a shadow crystal bearer, or being a significant character in this story (that never seems to be easy), and I could be spared from writing the rest of this.

But there are just too many loose ends, questions, information we were given for seemingly no reason- that make me wonder what Toby has in mind.

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Red flags 2 (the red stands for “is he okay”)

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This section will go through and analyse the more emotional aspects of his character and what he is in this story. Less “why was he put here” and more “how does he feel about being put here”. The feels, if you will.

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Let’s start by bringing up the infamous roast session;

While we do learn a lot about Ramb when talking directly to him, we learn a whole lot more after he’s gone, from the random pippins that seems to stand in for the rest of the darkners that knew him.

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First of all, just the fact that we learn more about ramb from someone else rather than himself says a lot. I already mentioned it in the character analysis part, but he seems to never really focus on himself during our conversations with him, and would much rather talk about Kris and what they want and how they feel, in a way that is reminiscent of ralsei.

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One of the differences between them being that while ralsei is truly trying his best to look for kris through our inputs on their behavior, building them up and cheering us both on,

ramb, thanks to how confident he is, thinks he knows exactly what kris wants without second guessing himself for a second (until the very end)

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(he was somehow right? Which adds to how he was made to make people think he’ll be the secret boss because he knew Kris wanted “freedom”. but this is just his lucky assumption, and has to do with what games Tenna is allowing Kris to play, not how Kris wants to be free from our control. Ramb had no idea.)

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(not to even get into how the mantle games vs Tenna’s version of them are a meta commentary on Deltarune’s linear story and how breaking out of if and achieving “freedom” comes at a great cost for the characters, that is a WHOLE other conversation and we’re talking about power strip mental health right now not this-)

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Just for a second, I wanna bring up the fact that he's a plugboy. While yes the plugboys from chapter 2 do differ from each other visually, they’re all clearly the same darkner species, and they all resemble plug types that would be of the same, mostly american socket type.

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While Ramb is a European plug type. He’s fundamentally different. (Note how different Ramb looks to the other plugboys, and his smiling expression vs the original plugboys naturally ‘surprised’ look)

It's impossible to connect an American plug to this type of socket. What I'm trying to say is; he couldn’t connect with anyone.

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Back when I played chapter 3 for the first time and learned Ramb was from the library, I thought it was really weird. What, he was essentially kidnapped and no one in chapter 2 said anything?

No one mentioned a plug named “ramb”, not even talked about a purple plugboy who used to live here. Not even “a plugboy” who’s now gone. I shrugged it off as extremely light retconning, maybe he was written after chapter 2 was completed.

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But when I think about it now, it makes total sense. The reason he didn't seem to mind being taken from his original dark world, his home, the reason he adores Kris so much, and why no one in cyber world mentioned him or said anything about him being gone;

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it's because he didn't matter to anyone back there either. The first time he felt loved and wanted was as Kris's toy.

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Of course he'd get attached to them, I'm honestly surprised he isn't constantly imposing himself on us- there isn't a single point in the game where you have to talk to him, if you never choose to do that, you don't even learn his name.

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Similarly to Tenna, Ramb clung to the past, to that time in his life he felt happy and loved. He couldn't (or wouldn't) move on.

No one in Cyber world liked him, no one in the dreemurr house liked him, so he gave up. He no longer tried to make connections with new people. Instead of retaining who he is and living for himself, even if no one likes it, he let himself get stuck in the memories of being loved, once, a long time ago.

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Inside, he was probably stone already.

Back to the infamous roast session, specifically to the last thing that was said about him there;

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“Inside, he was probably stone already.”

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Have you ever seen a more obvious depression metaphor?

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In chapter 3, a darkner turning to stone was revealed to be connected to a mental and emotional state, and not just where the object is originally from, which to be honest, in retrospect makes a lot more sense.

(What if an object was somewhere it didn't belong when a fountain was created, then brought back to the place they belong, would they turn to stone just because they happen to be somewhere else first? Also turning to stone being more about feelings just fits these games doesn't it. anyway)

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One of the very first things that we learn about Ramb, straight from him, is how Kris and Asriel brought him to their house from the library, maybe around the time Noelle and Kris played make believe with other objects from there and the unused classroom.

But that's all we learn from him about why he's here and how he feels about it. Which is to say we learn nothing because he never elaborates about himself-

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Then, after he’s turned to stone, we learn from the pippins that after Ramb was brought here by kris, he cared about them so much that he made sure the others are thinking about them and what's best for them too, because to him their plans weren’t good enough for kris. He wanted the very best for them.

His fixation on Kris and his condescending attitude that was perceived as ego isolated him as he turned insufferable in their eyes.

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Tenna wanted to get rid of him, no one liked his humor, he rarely got any customers, and no one will even care that he’s gone. Other newcomers in the house fit in fine, while he never truly belonged. The pippins is relieved if you tell them that you don't wanna hear more about him.

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Turning to stone on the inside. Being stone as you still continue to live. A darkner turns to stone when they feel like they don't belong, when even if they try their hardest to fit in, they don't have a place that’s for them where they are. When their connections can't save them and they want to be somewhere else, someone else.

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Ramb felt like he didn't belong here so badly that the feeling manifested, turning him to stone from the moment the fountain opened, maybe even before.

It's depression. Moreover, it's like smiling depression- he never lets us see any of it, he smiles and is friendly with us, there's no reason to think anything is wrong until you learn more about his situation.

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Kinda reminds you of someone, right?

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“How about the usual?”

That joke should be familiar to true truck freaks;

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“i’ll take the usual.”

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It's the same joke Sans made when he first came to Grillby’s. The differences being that while sans told it as a first time customer, Ramb told it as a first time bartender. And of course, people laughed at Sans's joke, and immediately accepted him as the old timer he joked about being, while no one laughed with Ramb.

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The similarities between sans and Ramb are kinda like when you learn a new word and start seeing it everywhere;

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They're both shorties

They both mask their depression with humor and an unassuming, modest attitude

They both constantly smile

They both wink a lot

Both are in worlds they don't belong in

Both never go into detail about themselves

Both refer to the player character as a friend immediately

Both seem to build up all they are around someone else (Sans with Papyrus and Ramb with Kris)

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It's not that this implies they know each other or anything- the only thing these similarities tell me is that we’re given more about Ramb's personality and ‘vibe’ through a character he’s similar to and we're already familiar with.

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Like, what if sans didn't have papyrus constantly at his side? What if no one liked his jokes? What if he couldn't make friends? What if he didn't have the ability to control where he went? What if he felt truly, deeply, alone?

While their personalities and circumstances are obviously not identical, I think these similarities are very interesting.

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(Just for the sake of not mischaracterizing sans, we're in 2025 not 2016, I wanna clarify that I'm aware a big part of sans' pain stems from his inability to go anywhere outside Undertale as a universe (wherever or whatever “going back” means), but I was thinking more like. What if he was just stuck inside MTT resort, y’know?)

—-

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Implications that he doesn’t value himself as a person

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If you were suddenly face to face with the one person who ever liked you, after years of being apart, if under their gaze, you felt more appreciated as a person than you have in all the years since you've last seen them, what would you do?

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I'd hope to god your answer isn't anything close to what Ramb did.

Because this guy gave up on so much of his life for Kris, even before he saw them again, until he gave up his life for them completely.

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In his last moments with us, he continues to try and make sure Kris has fun.

Knowing he will soon turn to stone, as far he knows, forever, He still continues to try and please Kris.

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He’ll watch out for Kris for as long as he's conscious enough to see and speak.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

He sees his own uncooperative body not as a detriment to himself, but a bother for Kris, who now has to shove him out of the way, because he started to die before he could unblock the entry to the room.

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Instead of doing anything for himself before he fully turns to stone, he chooses to set up one last game for us. His smile never falters and he wishes us a fun time.

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I mentioned this before, but this part of his behavior is very reminiscent of Ralsei.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Ralsei’s beliefs about himself and how much of a person he should be allowed to be finally started to get challenged in chapters 3 & 4, to the relief of everyone who knew he wasn't evil.

But before those beliefs started to get questioned by the game, he constantly allowed himself to be walked over, hurt, and ignored by everyone.

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The way he behaved was incredibly off putting, making a large portion of the community think he’s secretly the villain and will have a heel turn in the story where he backstabs us all- but it turns out he hid information from us because he views the knowledge he has as a burden. He doesn't want us to know what he knows because he cares about us.

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He’s okay with getting hurt, he’s okay with taking pain meant for us, protecting us from harm's way, because he doesn't yet view himself as a person worth protecting. He doesn't even view himself as a person.

When we learned this, suddenly all the oddities about him and the way he acted made sense. No one still believes he’s secretly evil.

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Ramb is similar in a way. He views himself as a darkner, an object, first, and a person second. He exists for his lightner, the kid who gave him purpose as a toy, an item of play and fun.

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He’s aware that in reality, he's just a power strip. and because he knows that while the lightners change, darkners don't, he understands that Kris views him as obsolete. He doesn't see himself as someone (something) worth saving.

His purpose, a darkners purpose, is to assist his lightner. His self proclaimed purpose is to let Kris have the fun they want. What he wants is irrelevant, he shouldn't even have needs or wants in the first place, there's no reason for it.

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It's okay if he’s dying. It's okay if he’s already stone on the inside. He keeps setting up the levels in the console room because we keep coming back to play, because we’re having fun. Whatever Ramb wants doesn't matter as much as Kris's fun does.

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While Ralsei thankfully has Susie and Kris by his side to constantly remind him that he matters, until the day he’ll hopefully fully believe it himself, Ramb is completely alone. He doesn't have anyone who cares about him, likes him, or would cry for him once he’s gone.

He hasn't yet realized, or maybe he’s never been told that he matters outside of his “role” as a darkner. And maybe he never will.

—--------

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

No one will shed a tear for him

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This part may be a bit more speculative of me and not really something that's out right said, but it's important for me to mention

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Before you finish the mantle game and Ramb disappears, if you hug the hall in front of where he guarded the door, you walk through a hidden hallway and enter his stand.

You can watch Susie and Ralsei play the game they were talking about, but you're unable to interact with them. Just watch as they’re having fun without you.

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It's an adorable Susie and Ralsei moment that I'm glad we got, look at them go! It's nice to actually see the characters doing the things they say they do. But i think that maybe we got the option to walk here for another reason

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This is Ramb’s point of view. His name is above where you stand. This is how he experiences the world. He's in the background, in the darkest area of the green room, looking at all the folks coming and going, laughing, smiling, bonding, while he’s unable to join.

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Fully his own decision by the way, you can leave this room and go back to your adventures with your friends, he can leave his stand too.

Not that anyone is waiting for him to, though. So what's the point?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Loneliness is overwhelming. It's an all encompassing feeling that paints everything and everyone you see, and once it's got its talons in you, it begins to feel impossible to overcome.

Even at times where you could fight it and win, if it sunk in already, it may just feel pointless, and you chose to lose a winnable battle.

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I doubt that in the entirety of Kris's house, there isn't a single darkner who would, at the very least, tolerate him. At best, genuinely like him and enjoy being his friend. But ramb knew loneliness in Cyber world, and its familiar sting found him in the Dreemurr house. Why try again?

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it's not like he needs it from the other darkners anyway, right? After all, he has someone who likes him. His lightner likes him, and that's more than enough.

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It's okay if they've not seen each other in years. It's okay if they never will again after the fountain is sealed. He has fulfilled his purpose in making sure they're happy.

That's more than enough. Nothing matters more than their happiness, not even him.

—-----

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So let's walk through what we can assume his life was like;

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He arrived at the library, as the only European plug there. Maybe he was accidentally purchased by someone who didn't notice that he had a socket type that they couldn't use with the rest of the plugs there.

He couldn't bond with any object in the library because he wasn't compatible with them, maybe they just didn't get along or the conversations didn't flow. No one there really cared about him, and he remained alone.

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Then, one day, a monster and a human decided to take him and bring him home with them.

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The human treated him like any one of their toys, and they played with him. He assisted them in having fun. He felt wanted, appreciated, useful, this was the first time in his life that he felt loved. He finally had a purpose.

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The other objects in this house just didn't get it, did they? this wonderful human was kind enough to give himself and all of them a home, they should be everyone's priority!

He tried to get them to focus their efforts on making the human happy, but nothing they ever did was good enough for them, he felt like he was the only one that really knew them, the only one who cared.

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The other objects started to get sick of him. and while they adjusted to their new life here just fine, finding friends and things to do, a place for themselves, he didn't. Again, he couldn't make a single friend.

He stuck to his beliefs, never questioning himself; if caring for my lightner is what got me to this point, then I don't regret it for a second. The one person who ever loved him deserves the best the world has to offer. He did not flinch when, from within, slowly, he began to turn to stone.

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The human grew up, and stopped playing with toys. Ramb continued his life as it was before, always thinking of his lightner, wondering how they're doing.

Until, one day, he saw them opening a dark fountain.

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His lightner is back! What joy! The one person who ever loved him, the one who gave him purpose, is right here!

He wondered why they opened a fountain right now, maybe it was fun that they were missing? And with the mind-numbing games his boss is making them play they're not getting any fun anytime soon.

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So he decided to fulfill his purpose. He set up the game that Tenna changed into that snooze-fest. The original version. The kind of game where you get choices. The story isn't linear, you can fight your way to the ending, or make friends that carry you through it.

(not that he knew of the controller he set up disappearing, and a corrupted one being left in the hallway by someone else)

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But if they choose not to play the game, that’s fine too. If they actually are having enough fun on Tenna’s game show, then that's fine. He won't force them to play his game, his purpose is to make sure Kris is having fun, not to be the fun they have.

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But if they do want to play his game? He’ll make sure they can until his very last moment. As he’s fully turning to stone, he doesn't care. His personhood doesn't matter, it never did. The only thing of value he has ever done was assist his lightner in their fun, way back when.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

He just wants them to have the fun they deserve, again.

—--------

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

That's who he is in the story of chapter 3. A lonely darkner stuck in the past, who gives himself up for you to be able to have the fun you used to have, the fun you had back when he was useful, unwilling to move on from when he was loved by you.

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In a more meta sense though, he was also the perfect secret boss red herring;

A lonely, abandoned toy, with unexplored thoughts and feelings about his worth as a toy and what he means in the grand scheme of things. Seeing him in this chapter was supposed to make us believe, because of past experiences with these types of guys in this game, that he’ll be the secret boss.

But he wasn't, that’s a part of his character of being forgotten, and it's intentional.

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

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Okay, so he's not the secret boss, he's not Eram, and he was written to just be a red herring.

That's all he is in this story.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Right?

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

He's just a red herring, right? (well…)

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Then:

Why did we need to know so much about him?

Why isn't he in castle town?

Why doesn't he fully turn to stone?

Why was it important that we know he saw Kris make the fountain?

Why was it important to imply that something happened to him after the sword route?

…Why doesn't the knight make the air crackle with freedom?

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----------

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Why did we need to know so much about him?

Beyond being a red herring, we learn so much about him as a character that doesn't go anywhere. Like his story was supposed to be something but got cut short.

Imagine if after Spamton gave you all this weird information in his shop, he turned to stone and THEN all the Addisons would show up and talk about him. It feels empty, like something was meant to be there, alongside all the information. some big break or moment that would give the character we slowly learned about over the course of the chapter closure.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

If he truly isn't and wasn't meant to be anything significant, then why are we given so much information on him? Why are we being made to wonder about him? Why are we being made to care?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Even in runs where you don't play the mantle games, and all Ramb was to you was the funny little guy giving you prizes in the green room, you end up getting so much information about him out of nowhere. I know first time players that were genuinely weirded out by it- why is it there by a point where his importance really wouldn't matter to you??

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But that could be a part of him being a red herring, we're learning about him as a character and thinking “oh this guy is absolutely the secret boss”, then the twist is that he isn't.

And that's true! That seems to be the idea Ramb was created for. But I wouldn't write all this if there wasn't more

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Why isn't he in castle town?

We didn't get too many unique characters in chapter 3; Tenna, Lanino, Elnina, Shuttah, and Ramb are really the only significant ones, they all even show up at the beginning of the chapter before the first board.

Ramb is one of the 5 unique characters we got in chapter 3, they're all in castle town, except him, no matter if we do the sword games or not. there was no reason not to put him there and give him like 2 lines of unremarkable dialogue.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Spamton was a unique character in chapter 2, but he doesn't show up in castle town either, even if we don't fight him as spamton neo.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

“certain bosses are excluded.” as if Ramb was meant to be something he ended up not being.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Why doesn't he fully turn to stone?

(original image by @/unikhroma)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

If it was just 1 pixel I wouldn't mention it, if it was two I'd be surprised that the flood fill tool the deltarune team is using is so uncooperative. If it was three I'd raise an eyebrow but not proclaim anything.

It's four. It's four uncolored, obvious pixels on his petrified sprite??? One of them is a part of his mouth and very visible????

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Not to mention how his eyes are still black like they were before- when lancer turns to stone, the big spade on his face that acts as an expressive mask of sorts turns gray like the rest of him, making him look much more like a statue.

But ramb looks awake, just frozen and grayscale. (I find it interesting that in his half stone sprite his left eye is obscured in shadow, would it be black or gray?)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

And why is it that when we interact with him behind his stand, instead of getting “Some kind of stone statue”, we get blocked by the pippins, as if when we’d interact with it we wouldn't get that description?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Why was there a need to imply he's still conscious? Why did we need to wonder if he heard everything that was said about him?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Why was it important that we know he saw Kris make the fountain?

While it is very possible that other characters are aware that Kris made the fountain- even Tenna, who's the ruler of this dark world, doesn't outright call Kris their creator.

For some reason, this little british guy, supporting cast member no.5, is the only darkner as of yet, in the entire first half of the game, to knowingly speak with their creator on screen, and outright say they saw them make the fountain.

Why him? Why now? Why no one else?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Why was it important to imply that something happened to him after the sword route?

When we exit the console room after getting the shadow mantle, Ramb is gone. He could've been outside as he was before, just fully turned to stone and giving the same prompt of “Some kind of stone statue”. But sure, maybe he's gone for tonal reasons. We leave right after the scene with Susie after all.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

But it was so important to Toby that we know Ramb didn't just walk away off screen or disappear without a reason, that he gave the dust bunny in the s rank room a unique shocked sprite so we’d know to talk to it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

“I was so scared, Ramb was..” doesn't tell us much. Did something scary happen to him? Did he do something that scared them?

And why do we need to think about that in the first place? Isn't he supposed to just be an irrelevant statue by this point? Why was it important enough to be told to us?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

Why doesn't the knight make the air crackle with freedom?

Think about it. When spamton turns into the dealmaker/puppet scarf he becomes a little glimmer and falls down to us, and we get both the item he turned into and the shadow crystal he held.

The part that chipped off the knight's sword was the Black Shard, not the shadow crystal. They were just holding it, it wasn't a part of them.

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And, they don't have the freedom motif in their theme…

And “The air crackles with freedom” doesn't show up during their fight…

and they’re an unavoidable battle, unlike Jevil, Spamton, or Gerson.

And… They’re repeatedly said to have arrived late. Almost as if, if they had arrived in time, and Tenna wouldn't have had to stall the show so much, they could do what they came to do, whatever that was.

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The knight didn't mean for things to happen the way they did!

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I think the implication is that, if the knight wasn't late, one of the probable many dastardly activities it would be up to, would be to give Ramb the shadow crystal it was holding.

Interesting too that their plan this chapter is prophesied to fail (lord of screens, cleaved red by blade), while we're trying to break the prophecy.

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If the prophecy was broken this chapter and the knight did all they wanted perfectly, would we have fought Ramb?

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You might notice that most of these end with questions, and that's the point. We're not being told everything there is to know. For some reason, we're being made to ask questions.

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I'll be honest, if you make some assumptions you could probably find answers to most of these, but I can't, even with assuming things like; he's Eram, or he's truly not someone we're meant to care for- (those cancel each other out btw) Find an explanation to everything.

If you figure out an answer to one, another falls apart.

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And I'm not trying to find the answers to these questions, I'm just pointing them out, because for an irrelevant side character those are a shit ton of loose ends. That's what's weirding me out! Why are we being made to ask questions about someone who's made to be insignificant??

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This isn't a Mike situation where the answer was just “we don't know” and a pun about “real mike” (brilliant, btw)

Mike was a question for years at this point, but he had no answer because there wasn't meant to be one, we made the question of “who's mike” up!!

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But with Ramb we're given the character and the questions at the same time, something is being built, but there's no way for us to know what right now. For now we just have the questions.

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Isn't he a cryptic shopkeeper and that's it?

Not really? he doesn't have a shop menu, there's no option to sell him anything, there's no extended talk option, and you can't even buy anything from him and it's being pointed out in game;

“Gotta use that vending machine though, Tenna doesn't like us… touching the points.”

“Mixing drinks for himself, he wasn't allowed to handle the points”

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He's the least shopkeeper a shopkeeper ever was. Even the old man in chapter 4 had a more proper shop.

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Alright, so he’s a shopkeeper narratively, not literally. the Seam to Jevil, Swatch for Spamton.

Is he Eram’s shopkeeper?

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Seam hinted at Jevil’s existence the very first time we met them, they gave us a part of the key to his cell, and once we beat him they expanded on his story and downfall.

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Swatch hinted at someone stealing their look, breaking into the mansion, they shush you up if you bring up the basement. And after you beat spamton, they tell you what they knew of him, and how they saw everything as it went wrong.

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Ramb didn't know Eram existed. He didn't understand why Kris thought someone was in the back with them, he didn't see anyone come in.

In Ramb's mind he just gave Kris a classic NES game like the ones they played as a kid, where you can go around with your sword and level up, or play peacefully, completing side quests and talking to the characters.

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With how much he cares about kris, it's obvious he had no idea there would be a harmful taunting creature in there, calling their name and changing the game to give them a worse time, he didn't have to tell us that to his knowledge no one was back there with them, but he still did.

Sometimes things should be taken at face value.

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The shopkeepers to secret bosses dynamic seems to exist so that we could learn more about the secret bosses stories and about them as characters. We've seen two instances where the shopkeeper and the secret boss knew each other, but because they're there just to give us more information on them, then they don't really have to.

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Ramb could’ve given us information in a backwards way, saying things that include game or lore hints that would make sense to us but still show that he has no idea he's filling the role of a guide.

(think about Noelle's line in chapter 4; “we’ll know it's there if it makes noise.” she didn't know the soul was in the closet, she didn't know she was giving the player a hint! She was just telling Susie that if they heard a mouse squeak or something then they’ll know it entered Dess’s room.)

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And yet Ramb wasn't even that! We didn't learn anything about Eram from him, even after reading all his lines of dialogue about the game!!!

Ramb is not the battleable secret boss obviously, but he’s not even the shopkeeper to one!

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What he is in this story, and will he be more? (Conclusion)

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So… what is he supposed to be? Is he just a red herring? Is his only purpose in this story to throw us off and be a part of this chapter’s expectation subversion?

So why the loose ends? Why the information?

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Like I said before, deltarune is not meant to be predicted. It can't be! Whatever all of this was for, if it was for anything, what it will be, when it will be and how, it's all up to toby.

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Originally, I wanted to bring up a theory I really believe in about the future of deltarune. If you're familiar with mollystars’ “the device theory”, you'll know all about it. New-game-plus.

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(In short, it's about how currently we're playing by the prophecy, (think of it as a flawed undertale neutral run), and once we reach the end of deltarune, we could break the prophecy, and have an extra epilogue chapter, or play the whole game again, and have a timeline where the prophecy is broken. (like resetting a neutral undertale ending and playing pacifist))

(watch the device theory trilogy on yt if you're interested, it's awesome and like 10 and a half hours long.)

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At first, this theory had a whole segment here, explaining it at length, and why ramb seems to fit it perfectly-

But… I decided not to do that. Sure, Ramb’s weird existence kinda does make me think about the new game plus theory, but… no. I'm not gonna assume anything more about him.

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We were given the character, then the questions. We can rack our brains trying to find the answers and feel as confident about them as we can be, but we were so off about Tenna before the chapters came out you guys.

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A lot of people tend to dismiss Ramb as just another character in this chapter that happened with nothing much more to him.

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The purpose of this essay, alongside compiling the information about Ramb and analyzing it and his character, was to point out and bring attention to the questions that his odd existence in this chapter raises, not try to answer them.

just show how strange it is that this character, that's supposed to be a red herring and nothing more, has this many questions regarding him, his existence in this story, and his unclear end.

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Something is being planned here, and we have no way of knowing what.

All we can do is sit with this character, the questions, the loose ends, the clues … and wonder.

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Posts i used as a reference, or influenced my view on things, or are just awesome to read if you want more Ramb:]

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What's the Deal with Ramb? - by koimethehorizon:

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Why it's important that ramb isn't an American plug - by Askerror87’s;

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We are Studying Ramb Again - by lost-seal:

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Thinking about ramb by meatcarnival3000:

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RAMB VS ERAM - by frankent1ts:

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Ok, we need to talk about Ramb - by todaslocas:

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(Short but really influenced how I think about Ramb and Tenna's relationship!) - by meatcarnival3000:

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Ramb tenna lore Supercut - by unikhroma:

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thank you for reading! <3

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#deltarune #deltarune chapter 3 #ramb #deltarune ramb #ramb deltarune #deltarune theory #deltarune analysis #what more tags can i add lol.#if theres any segment you read from this please read “red flags 2 (the red stands for is he okay)” its my favorite one #this was a labor of love #i was worried that how much i worked on this would make me start disliking ramb #too much of a good thing y'know #but no. im just excited to share this with people. my best attempt at wording why he plagues my thoughts #im so happy i managed to post it this weekend. im gonna have no free time this entire month-#ive actually still got some drawings i wanna post but theyre not done yet. ill see how much i can get done today before i go radio silent #if there are any grammatical errors please ignore them <3 im just a little guy #if you take the time to read this entire behemoth i literally cannot thank you enough. ur aWESOME <3333333 #please take breaks tho if youre planning on doing that #:'] <33 #alright thats it no more stalling posting this by writing tags #i hope you enjoy! <3

190 notes · View notes

fiendsgf · 12 hours ago

Text

Soulbound

V. Siren's Song

sylus x reader, rafayel x reader

Summary: You didn’t mean to be seen. But Rafayel was already waiting. A quiet beach, a slip of truth, a hand that shouldn’t have felt familiar. Back in the N109 zone, Sylus doesn't push–but he waits. You tell yourself nothing changed. But the air feels different. Like something important has already begun to unravel.

content: non!mc reader, angst if you squint, isekai, love triangle(ish), shady raf, it’s a lot going on tbh

1 2 3 4

Dinner had come and gone, but the heaviness in your chest hadn’t. You’d smile when Luke cracked jokes. Tried to laugh when Kieran handed you a drink with an exaggerated wink. But your mind wasn’t in the safehouse anymore.

When the dishes were cleared and the rooms grew quiet, you slipped out. No one stopped you.

You made your way down the slope barefoot, the wind cool on your skin. The sea stretched wide and quiet, its breath steady against the sand. You walked until the water kissed your toes and the dunes were a blur behind you, then sank into the damp shoreline, pulling your knees to your chest.

The silence felt good.

You stared out at the horizon, letting the tide lap closer. Letting the thoughts come.

Then–

“Cutie, you always sneak off this quietly, or am I just lucky tonight?”

You’re kidding.

You flinched, startled. Turned.

Rafayel stood a few steps away, barefoot, boots dangling from one hand. His coat hung open, and the sea breeze played at his hair. The moonlight caught on the pale skin of his collarbone and the gleam in his watercolor eyes.

He gave you a crooked little smile.

“I’ve been accused of showing up uninvited,” he said. “But I prefer to think of it as good timing.”

Just pretend everything is okay.

He won’t know.

You huffed softly, looking back toward the water. “How did you know I was here?”

“I was wandering,” he said, coming closer. “You happened to be where I ended up.”

Without asking, he lowered himself onto the sand beside you, elbows resting on his knees. Not too close – but closer than anyone else had dared to get lately.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment. “You seemed kind of… far away earlier.”

Don’t panic.

You didn’t answer right away. The tide crept closer, dark and slow.

He looked sideways at you, his voice softer this time. “You don’t have to talk about it. Just felt like something was weighing on you.”

Something about the way he said it – not prying, not performative – cracked something open in your chest.

You wish you could tell him.

You sighed, eyes on the ocean. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me.”

A pause. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to fight the instinct to stay silent.

“I just feel… out of place,” you said finally. “Like an imposter, I guess.”

Very subtle.

What are you doing?

He didn’t look at you. Just nodded slowly, like he was waiting for more.

“It’s like…” You exhaled. “I don’t know… sometimes it feels like,” You paused. “I’m not where I’m meant to be.”

He let the quiet sit for a moment before answering. “Yeah,” he said. “I know that one.”

You blinked. “You do?”

He shrugged, almost to himself. “Sure. Doesn’t matter where you go or how long you’re there. Sometimes it feels like there’s another place, calling your name. But you can’t hear it clearly anymore.”

You didn’t respond right away. His voice had changed, still calm, but no longer playful. Like something had shifted just under the surface.

Of course he understands. He’s not supposed to be here either. Not on land.

You swallowed. “I didn’t mean to take someone’s place. I didn’t even ask to be—” You stopped. Realized too late how close you’d come to saying the wrong thing.

He looked at you, still and steady. “Someone’s place?”

You didn’t move.

“I meant…” you scrambled, “...sometimes it feels like someone deserves my place more than I do. Imposter syndrome, I guess.”

He didn’t press. Just studied you for another moment, then looked back out toward the sea.

“You know,” he said after a while, “some people spend their whole lives trying to make sense of where they landed. Trying to make it feel right.” He shifted, leaned back on his hands, letting his legs stretch out in front of him. “Maybe you don’t need to understand everything yet. Maybe it’s enough to just be. It’ll make sense eventually.”

You glanced at him – the cut of his jaw, the light in his eyes, the ease with which he sat in his own body.

You two are talking about entirely different things. He doesn’t even know who he’s really talking to.

But you feel seen.

“You make that sound easy,” you said quietly.

He smiled faintly, still not looking at you. “It’s not.”

The waves pulled closer again. You didn’t move. Neither did he.

You weren’t sure what was happening, only that it felt strange and quiet and important. And that there was something about Rafayel that made your skin feel warm in places you hadn’t felt human in for days.

He didn’t ask anything else. Just sat beside you like he’d been there before. Like he’d known this exact kind of silence.

And for now, that was enough.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there. The moon rose higher, dragging the tide with it. At some point, your hand had dipped to your side, fingers trailing faint lines in the sand. You hadn’t even noticed how close he’d gotten.

Then, Warmth.

Rafayel’s hand brushed lightly against yours, just enough to nudge away a bit of wind-scattered grit from your knuckles. His touch was casual, unhurried. But precise. Like he’d been waiting for the exact moment you wouldn’t flinch.

“Sand’s got a mind of its own,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You glanced at him.

He didn’t meet your gaze. Just let his fingers linger a second longer than necessary before pulling back.

Your heart stuttered.

It wasn’t the touch. It was the way he made you feel like he already knew what you were feeling, before you’d even figured it out yourself.

And the worst part?

You didn’t hate it.

You stood a few minutes later, brushing the back of your legs off. Rafayel rose with you without a word. The air between you felt... heavier. Not in a bad way. Just full – like something unspoken had passed between you and was now hanging in the salt-heavy air.

“Don’t disappear cutie,” he said, voice quieter now, but still with that amused edge. “Or at least leave a trail.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out soft.

“Alright.”

He gave you a lazy two-finger wave, then turned back toward the dunes, disappearing into the shadows like he’d always belonged to them.

You didn’t follow right away.

You stood there in the dark, waves lapping at your ankles, your heart still tangled in the warmth of a hand that shouldn’t have felt like home.

The walk back from the beach felt heavier than before, even though the night air was cool and the stars were scattered like secrets overhead. The sand under your shoes shifted with each step, but your mind was miles away, twisting and turning on itself, unable to settle.

You shouldn’t have let yourself stay out that late. You shouldn’t have let Rafayel get that close. You shouldn’t have let yourself pretend, even for a moment, that you were someone else.

The truth gnawed at you–sharp and relentless–that she was out there somewhere, and you were an impostor tangled in her life, her people, her world. The thought made your throat tighten and your chest ache. You wanted to run back, to undo what had already happened, but there was no rewind.

Back at the house, the quiet felt different now. Thicker. You slipped inside, careful not to wake anyone. The creak of the floorboards underfoot was the only sound accompanying your restless steps up to your room.

You collapsed onto the bed, the weight of your own thoughts pinning you down harder than the mattress ever could. You clenched your fists at your sides, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

Why did I let it happen?Why do I feel like I’m betraying her – or worse, myself?

What else could I have even done?

A part of you longed for something steadier, something honest. Sylus.

You wanted to see him, to tell him everything. The fears, the guilt, the confusion tangled in your chest. Maybe with Sylus, it would be easier to breathe.

But for now, you lay there, caught between the truth you carried and the secret you couldn’t share.

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The elevator hisses open, and the cool, familiar air of the base spills out into the corridor. You’re carrying your shoes in one hand, the faint scent of salt water still clinging to your clothes. The silence is comfortable–but only just.

Luke is the first to break it.

“If I find a single grain of sand in my bed, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

You glance back at him, lifting a brow. “We all shared the same beach.”

“I didn’t roll in it like a happy seal.”

Kieran grunts behind him, shifting his duffel over his shoulder. “We get it. You’re delicate.”

Their voices fade into the upper level as they split off toward their rooms, and you linger in the hall for a breath longer than you need to.

You’re not ready to be alone with your thoughts.

Not yet.

Your gaze flicks toward Sylus’s quarters.

You pad toward his door and hesitate.

Then you knock softly.

A beat.

“Who is it?” His voice is low, muffled through the panel.

You crack the door open and step into the dim light.

“Can I talk to you?”

Sylus turns slightly from where he’s standing at the edge of his desk, arms crossed. His eyes narrow, just barely. “What’s wrong?”

You shift your weight, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s about Whitesand.”

He motions for you to come in. You cross the room and sit on the couch, fingers lacing tightly in your lap.

“I ran into someone,” you begin, heart already beating too fast. “Rafayel.”

Sylus’s brow lifts, but he doesn’t speak. Just waits.

“I wasn’t looking for him. I was panicking when I found out where we were going, told myself I wouldn’t see him.” You take a shaky breath. “He bumped into me in some shop.”

You glance up at Sylus, then quickly away.

“He called me ‘Miss Bodyguard’ and I realized he thought I was her. I just played along and tried to stay calm.” You swallow. “But then he grabbed my phone. Sent himself a message before I could even say anything.”

Sylus’s jaw tightens just slightly.

“Then he just left.” You exhale hard, pressing a palm to your forehead. “Later that night, I was sitting on the beach. Alone. And he found me again. Like he knew I’d be there.”

Sylus finally speaks. “What did he say?”

You hesitate. “He said I looked like I was far away. That I seemed off.”

“And?”

“I don’t know why I did it, but… I told him he was right.” You laugh once, bitter and breathless. “Not the whole truth, obviously. Just enough that he thought I was her, having a rough week.”

Sylus is quiet, eyes unreadable.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” you say quickly. “I was just…so tired. I feel so guilty. I shouldn’t have let it go that far.”

“Did you tell him anything else?”

You shake your head. “No. But he got my number. It’s only a matter of time before he realizes something is wrong. What if he already knows I’m not her? What if I made things worse?”

He moves closer, sits next to you. “Take a breath.”

You do. Barely.

“I can’t stop thinking about how easy it was for him to look at me and assume I was her,” you whisper. “And I just… let him. I played along. It wasn’t even deliberate, but it happened. And now I feel like I betrayed her.”

Sylus’s gaze flicks over your face. “You didn’t betray anyone.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You’re not impersonating her.” He pauses. “At least, not with bad intentions. There’s nothing else you could have done.”

You bite your lip, trying not to let it wobble.

“I should’ve said something. I should’ve shut it down.”

“But you didn’t. And you can’t undo that. So let’s just figure out what’s next.”

His voice is calm, even. But you can sense something under the surface. Tension, a flicker of emotion he’s swallowing down.

You search his face. “You seem… tense. More than usual.”

He leans back slightly, folding his arms.

“I went on a mission with her.”

You go still.

“It was fine,” he adds quickly. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. But something felt off. She was quiet. Followed every order to the letter.”

Your brows furrow. “What felt off?”

He takes a deep breath, eyes unfocused. “Our resonance. It was weak.”

There’s a weight behind his words that makes your chest ache.

“Maybe she’s dealing with something,” you offer. “It might not mean anything.”

He nods, but there’s doubt in his eyes.

You move before thinking, heart fluttering as you reach out and place a hand over his.

“You’re right.”

His fingers curl gently around yours.

“It just…reminded me of where we started.” He sighs. “How she saw me.”

You frown. “You’re a good man Sylus. She knows that. She’ll see it.”

He huffs, a small sound of amusement and disbelief.

He squeezes your hand slightly. “...Thank you.”

The corners of your mouth tug a bit.

“Course,”

And for a moment, there’s nothing else. Just the quiet hum of the base and the heat of his palm against yours.

A part of you wishes that he was reaching for you the same way he reaches for her.

But you don’t have the right.

The comfort lingers longer than you expect.

And when he lets go, it’s with the softest kind of reluctance.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Your hand still buzzes with the lingering touch as you lay in bed, eyes fixed to the ceiling.

You want to run.

From Sylus. From this world. From the way everything keeps getting more complicated.

But where would you even go?

You really thought you could handle it. That staying close to Sylus wouldn’t affect you. That you could exist near him without feeling anything.

And for a while, you believed it.

When fear and confusion still ruled your every thought – waking up in a foreign world, overstepping and ruining the story, accidentally wearing her face and name.

But time passed. You settled in. Fell deeper into Sylus’s world. Saw the man beyond the screen.

And what kind of fool would believe they’d never feel something?

He’s gentle. Kind. Far more human than anyone gives him credit for.

You tried to get away. Thought the ocean would clear your head, center you again.

Instead, it handed you a new problem.

Him.

You looked at Rafayel. Talked to him. Let him believe you were her.

Everything you promised yourself you’d never do.

And now? Now you can’t stop wondering what’ll happen if–when–he finds out. Will he hate you? Call you unwell? Think you’re some delusional girl chasing a fantasy?

Will he think you wanted this?

You think about your world again. How quiet it was. How safe. How ordinary.

You weren’t thriving, but at least things made sense there.

Here? You’re starting to feel like you’ve long overstayed your welcome.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You wake with a dull ache behind your eyes, like your thoughts were fighting through the night.

You roll over and grab your phone, expecting some nonsense from Luke and Kieran.

But it’s not them.

Maybe: Rafayel

hey cutieeee

dun tell me you forgot to call again :(

im working on a new painting, need inspo

come take a walk w me?

Fuck.

It’s fine. Just tell him you’re busy.

Or ignore him.

Yeah. Ignore the man with abandonment issues. Great plan.

You sigh and type quickly:

Hey. Sorry, a bit busy today. Association is swamped. Maybe another time?

You watch the typing dots form.

booooo

ill just come to u then

see u at work cutie

Well. That was the worst possible response you could have hoped for.

No need! My captain actually just said she’s letting me off early today! I’ll come to you.

yay

meet me at [location sent]

You groan, tossing the blanket off. You drag yourself out of bed, half-limping toward the hallway. You don’t even look in the mirror.

You make a beeline to Sylus’s study.

“Sylus, help me.”

He glances up from the tablet in his hand, one brow slightly raised. A corner of his mouth twitches.

“What happened? Did Mephisto steal your earrings again?”

You shoot him a flat look.

“No. This is serious,” you huff, stepping inside. “Rafayel texted me. Asked to meet. I panicked. I said yes.”

You drop your face into your hands.

Sylus leans back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. “So much for laying low.”

You glare at him through your fingers.

“He said he’d go to the association! What was I supposed to do? He gave me no room to back out. I didn’t want to agree, but–”

You cut yourself off with a groan.

Sylus doesn’t laugh. But there’s something fond in the way he looks at you.

“I know you’ve been careful. Trying not to stir things up,” he says. “But… maybe this isn’t the worst thing.”

Your hands fall to your sides.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe if you meet him, it’ll be enough. Might buy us time to figure out the rest.”

“Or it might make things worse.”

Sylus shrugs gently. “Possibly. But I trust you’ll handle it.”

You hesitate.

“…You really think I can?”

His gaze holds yours for a beat too long.

“I do. And I don’t think you have much of a choice, either.”

You sigh.

You steel your nerves and brace yourself like a prisoner awaiting their verdict.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You walk through the park Rafayel said he’d be waiting in. You try not to look nervous as you search for his figure between the willow trees.

“y/n!”

You spin around.

“There she is,” he says. “Cutie, I was starting to think you bailed on me again.”

You give him a half-hearted glare, hands clasped behind your back. “I should have.”

“Too late now. You’re stuck with me.” He closes the distance, hand outstretched to you. “C’mon. Walk with me.”

The streets are warm, the late sun setting everything in gold. You fall into step beside him, letting the quiet stretch. Rafayel doesn’t fill it with needless chatter, just swings his hands loosely at his sides, occasionally nudging you gently with his elbow when the silence gets too heavy.

It’s weirdly… relaxing.

You’re still on edge, every cell humming with what you know – what he might know – but he doesn’t press. Doesn’t interrogate. Just walks.

He leads you toward a small gallery nestled into the side of a stone building. There’s no sign, just a copper door and a quiet hum of music bleeding from within.

Inside, it’s cooler, dimmer. The scent of varnish and citrus cleaner lingers in the air. Paintings line the walls – coastal landscapes, abstract shapes, portraits that seem to watch you as you pass.

One catches your eye.

It’s a person, maybe a woman, but blurred, almost dissolving into her surroundings. Something about the way her shoulders tilt, the way her eyes are fixed just slightly left of the viewer. She looks… lost.

You stop walking.

“She looks like she doesn’t know where she is,” you murmur. “Like she stepped through the wrong door.”

Rafayel stops beside you. His voice is softer now.

“Maybe she stepped through the right one,” he says. “She just hasn’t realized it yet.”

The words settle in your chest like an echo.

You glance at him.

He’s already watching you – not intensely, not like he’s waiting for a reaction. Just watching. Calm. Present.

The moment stretches.

Then he breaks it.

“Come on,” he says, slipping his hand into his pocket. “I wanna show you something.”

You end up at the beach.

The sun’s long gone, and the sand is cool beneath your shoes. Rafayel kicks his off immediately, padding barefoot toward the waterline like he’s done it a hundred times. You follow, slower.

It’s quieter here than the gallery. Just the waves and the occasional cry of a distant seabird. You can hear your pulse in your ears.

You try to keep your guard up. Try not to let your steps betray the way your thoughts are racing.

“I knew,” Rafayel says suddenly, voice low, just above the hush of the tide.

You freeze.

You blink. “Knew what?”

He glances at you, half-smiling. “That you weren’t her. From the start.”

Your breath catches. You stop walking.

His tone is too casual – like he’s talking about the weather. That only makes it worse.

“Then… why did you invite me out?” you ask, voice wary. “If you already knew?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe curiosity. Maybe instinct. You looked like someone who needed a night off.”

You stare at him. “How could you tell?”

“There’s something about the way you looked at me,” he says, raising a brow. “Not like a stranger. But not like her, either.”

You don’t answer. You’re too busy trying to figure out if this is a setup – a test – a trap.

He turns his gaze to the sea, hands slipping into his pockets. “I told myself maybe she had a twin. Or I’d hit my head. But when I called your name earlier, you didn’t flinch. Didn’t hesitate. That’s when I knew.”

You look down. The sand shifts beneath your feet.

“I’m not–” you begin, then falter. “I’m not trying to fool anyone. I didn’t ask for this.”

“I figured,” he says gently. “Still. I had to know who you were.”

You glance at him, wary. “Why?”

“No reason that matters,” he says. “Just wanted to understand. For myself.”

A pause.

“Where did you come from?” he asks.

Your chest tightens. You didn’t want this conversation. Not like this.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” you admit, voice low. “It feels impossible.”

“Try me,” he says, softer now.

You hesitate. Then you exhale, slowly.

“I’m from a different world,” you say. “A different reality.”

He doesn’t react.

After a beat, he says, “Really?”

You nod.

“Guess that explains the way you looked at everything,” he says, like you just confessed to being from out of town. “You’ve been walking around like nothing quite belongs to you.”

You blink at him. “That’s it? No freak out?”

“I mean,” he gestures to the waves, “weirder things have happened. Probably.”

That earns the smallest smile from you.

He looks at you again, head tilted. “But you knew who I was. Back at the shop.”

You sigh. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

You hesitate. Then: “In my world… you were part of a video game.”

He blinks, then grins. “That’s a new one.”

“I know it sounds ridiculous. When I first ended up here, I thought maybe I’d been dropped inside it. But this place – it doesn’t feel like a game. It feels real.”

“Maybe it was a window,” you add. “Or a trick. Or I’ve just completely lost it.”

He hums, thoughtful. “You don’t sound crazy.”

“You sure? Because I definitely feel it.”

He glances over at you, amused. “Cutie, I talk to the ocean and name my pigments after sea creatures. If you’re losing it, at least you’re in good company.”

You laugh – small and breathy – but it’s real.

“I could’ve just ignored it,” Rafayel says. “Pretended I didn’t notice. But you looked like you could use someone who didn’t ask you to explain yourself. Someone who didn’t expect answers.”

You swallow. “Why would you want to help me?”

He shrugs. “Because you’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one people get when they’ve been carrying a planet on their back.”

His words hang in the space between you, unspoken weight meeting quiet understanding.

A breeze brushes past, lifting your hair. You hear the soft retreat of waves against the shore.

Rafayel reaches his hand out to you.

“Come paint with me.”

His studio smells like salt and turpentine and rain-dried wood. The ceilings stretch high above you, and the walls are crowded with half-finished canvases. Strange, lovely things, some turned away like secrets.

Rafayel moves through the space like it was built around him.

He sets two stools before a blank canvas and hands you a brush.

“No rules,” he says easily. “Just paint whatever’s stuck in your head.”

You hesitate. “That’s the problem. I don’t even know what’s in there anymore.”

He grins. “Perfect. Start with that.”

For a while, neither of you speaks. The brush feels awkward in your hand, and the colors run too fast, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel hums something tuneless and soft, flicking pigment across his own canvas in sweeping arcs of color.

Eventually, he breaks the quiet. “So… you said you knew me from a game?”

You glance over at him.

“What was I like in it?” he asks, voice light but curious.

You try not to smile. “Honestly? You weren’t that different from how you are now.”

He hums like he’s pleasantly surprised. “What kind of game are we talking about?”

Your face warms. “…A dating game.”

Rafayel laughs, leaning back with exaggerated delight. “A dating game? Cutie, you’ve been holding out on me.”

You bury your face in your hands. “Don’t make it weird! It’s not like I chose it just for that. You were just–part of it.”

“Part of it,” he echoes. “So I wasn’t your favorite?”

You groan, trying to dodge the question. “You were the favorite. The face of the game, actually.”

He smiles, a little smug, and turns back to his painting. “Mm. Glad to hear I had good taste in timelines.”

“You knew about her too, was she in the game?’

You nod to yourself. “Yeah, we create her. Play the story as her.”

He hums. “I see. Same name, same face, makes sense now.”

You huff. “Does it?”

He chuckles. “I’m trying to be understanding here, cutie,”

You laugh despite yourself. For a while, you both return to your work, the silence between you easy now.

Then, more softly, he asks, “So. How long have you been here?”

“A few weeks. Maybe longer. It’s hard to tell.”

He nods like that makes perfect sense. “You remind me of myself,” he says. “When I first left home. Everything felt too loud and too far away.”

You nod. “It’s been… strange.”

He leans his elbow against the edge of the canvas, watching you from the side. “Where’ve you been staying?”

You hesitate. “I… ended up in the N109 zone.”

His head turns fast. “Seriously?”

You can’t help the laugh that slips out. “Yeah. I didn’t exactly get a choice. One of the love interests lives there.”

Rafayel blinks once, slowly. “One of the–wait.”

You nod. “Sylus. He’s the one who found me.”

There’s a flicker – a shift behind his eyes. His fingers pause mid-stroke on the canvas.

“Ah.” His voice is still smooth, but quieter. “So you’ve been with Sylus.”

“I sort of talked my way out of being seen as a threat. I’ve been staying at Onychinus since.”

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, then smiles again, easy. “Cutie,” he murmurs, “you might be the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

You grin, a little bashfully. “It’s not that crazy.”

“If we made a movie out of it, no one would believe it.”

You pause, your brush lingering at the edge of the canvas. “Do you think I’m… awful? For not saying anything? For pretending to be someone I’m not?”

Rafayel sets his brush down.

“I think,” he says, “you did what you had to. No one drops into another world with a guidebook.”

You glance at him, surprised by how gentle his voice is.

He leans back on his stool and gives you a quiet smile. “Besides… I was pretending, too.”

You blink. “What?”

“I acted like I didn’t know. But I saw it in your eyes. You weren’t confused, you were trying to protect yourself.” He shrugs. “I get that.”

A pause.

He adds, “And now that I do know a little more… well, you’re still here. That has to mean something.”

You’re not sure what to say to that. But your chest feels lighter than it has in days.

You look back at your painting – the chaos of it, the strange colors, the way nothing really fits – and for once, that doesn’t feel so terrible.

The paintbrush starts to drag in your hand. You don’t notice until your strokes turn uneven.

You blink, realizing how heavy your limbs feel. “I should probably go,” you murmur, setting the brush down. “It’s late, and Sylus is probably wondering where I am.”

You don’t catch the shift in Rafayel’s posture.

He leans back slightly, elbows on his knees. “Back to the N109 zone at this hour?” His voice is casual, but his knuckles flex once, slow and deliberate. “You’d only be halfway there by sunrise.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, though you’re not sure you believe it yourself.

“You just got comfortable,” he says, glancing toward the wide windows, the ocean glowing faintly beneath a fractured moon. “No one’s going to mind if you take one night off from survival mode.”

You hesitate.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you offer, though your body’s already aching at the thought of making that long trip back.

“You won’t,” Rafayel replies gently. “I’ll take the couch. You can have the bed, clean sheets and everything, promise.”

You glance at him.

He lifts a hand, mock solemn. “Swear on my best brush.”

A beat.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“Good.” He stands, stretching. “Bathroom’s down the hall. The door with the chipped koi on it.”

You nod and step away to wash the paint off your hands.

When you’re out of sight, Rafayel runs a hand through his hair and exhales, slower than necessary.

The studio feels different now. Like something in the air shifted.

He moves quietly, dimming the lights, rinsing off brushes, setting canvases to dry. It’s muscle memory by now, the motions smooth, effortless. But his thoughts aren’t as still.

You said Sylus was probably waiting for you.

Of course you’d say that. And of course he is.

His fingers press briefly against the edge of the worktable, a knuckle whitening before he lets go.

He casts a glance toward the hallway where you disappeared, then to the couch.

You’d been exhausted – trying so hard not to show it. The weariness in your voice, the weight in your shoulders… he’d seen it. Felt it, like something echoing in his own chest.

Offering you a place to rest had been instinct. But there’s more to it than that. And he knows it.

Still, he doesn’t say it out loud. Not even to himself.

This isn’t the time.

Not yet.

For now, he leans back against the counter and closes his eyes, letting the ocean breeze slip in through the cracked windows. It smells like salt and clean air and the faintest trace of the citrus soap you used.

He stays there a long while.

Just listening to the waves.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─��

The study is too quiet.

Sylus leans back in his chair, arms folded, eyes unfocused as the soft hum of the base’s systems fills the silence. The time glows steadily on the screen in front of him.

You’ve been gone for a while.

He told himself not to hover. You weren’t stepping into danger – just meeting someone. Someone familiar.

Still… his fingers tap restlessly against the desk.

No message yet.

He eyes the comms panel. Mephisto’s idle. He could send him, just a quick check-in.

But he doesn’t move.

Rafayel wouldn’t hurt you. He knows that.

Probably.

He grabs his phone, thumbs hovering for a second before typing:

Everything alright?

The reply comes fast.

he knows.

His jaw tightens. He barely has time to process it before the next message follows:

but it’s okay. i think. turns out you’re not the only understanding man around here?

i’ll be back in the morning

Sylus stares at the screen.

His first reaction is relief, the kind that hits too hard, like a wire pulled too tight finally snapping loose.

You’re safe.

You’re not panicking. You’re joking.

It should be enough.

He sets the phone down but doesn’t look away from it. There’s a strange pressure behind his ribs. Something unsettled. Restless.

He tells himself it’s concern. Simple as that.

You’re not exactly predictable. And Rafayel… well, Sylus doesn’t know what he wants.

He told you to go.

He said it might buy time.

But now that you have – now that Rafayel knows – he can’t quite shake the feeling that something’s shifted. That something slipped out of his reach before he realized he’d even been holding it.

His fingers curl slightly against the armrest.

He’s just concerned. Maybe you’re too trusting.

He just wants to make sure you’re okay. That’s all.

He exhales quietly, then picks the phone back up.

Be safe.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The morning creeps in quietly, slow sunlight filters through the linen curtains, casting soft golden bars across the paint stained floorboards. It smells faintly of ocean air and drying pigment.

You wake curled beneath unfamiliar sheets, the bed bigger than it looked the night before. It’s too quiet. Peaceful in a way that makes you hesitate before moving.

You sit up slowly, the comforter sliding off your shoulder, and pad into the studio barefoot.

Rafayel is already awake. He’s perched on a stool by the open balcony, sipping something from a chipped mug, one leg folded beneath him. His hair is slightly tousled. The wind lifts it from his face.

He glances over when he hears you. “Morning, cutie.”

Your voice is hoarse. “Didn’t mean to sleep in.”

“You needed it.” He nods toward the hallway. “There’s coffee, if you trust my taste.”

You find the cup waiting in the kitchen, not perfect, but warm, and kind. You sip it quietly beside him.

After a moment, he speaks again, gaze still on the ocean.

“If you ever need to get away again… you know where I am.” He taps a loose rhythm against the railing with one finger. “The door’s always open. Doesn’t have to be a crisis.”

You glance at him.

He meets your eyes briefly. No pressure. No insinuation. Just… calm.

“Thanks,” you murmur. “That means a lot.”

“Good.” He gives a crooked smile. “Now go before the vampires start wondering where their sunshine went.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The N109 zone feels darker than usual when you step back into it – all the steel and shadow, the buzz of faint neon against the gloom. Your body still carries a lingering warmth from the coast, a calm you’re not used to.

You make your way inside the base. The twins are arguing over a drone part in the hallway. Kieran offers you a lazy wave, Luke flashes a grin.

You don’t see Sylus right away, but when you step into the common room, he’s there – arms crossed, standing by a massive digital map spread across the wall. He turns when he hears you.

His expression doesn’t shift much, but his eyes skim over you like he’s scanning for bruises.

“You’re back,” he says simply.

“Didn’t mean to stay out so long,” you offer. “We ended up painting. I lost track of time.”

A pause.

Sylus nods, slow. “You seem… relaxed.”

You blink. “Yeah…” you trail off. “It was nice, I was so worried going into it, but it went better than I expected, I guess.”

Another pause. His gaze sharpens just slightly.

“He seemed trustworthy?”

You catch it – the way his voice dips half a degree, the flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you say. “Honestly, it was nothing dramatic. He was just nice.”

He looks at you a second longer than necessary.

Then: “Good.”

You move past him, toward the hallway. “I’m gonna drop my bag off and go change,”

He doesn’t stop you. But you feel his attention linger like a pulse at your back until you’re gone.

Your room is just as you left it – dim, cold, a little impersonal. But after the surreal calm of Rafayel’s studio, it’s grounding.

You drop your bag on the side table and sink onto the edge of the bed, exhaling slowly. For the first time in days, your pulse isn’t clawing at your throat.

It went better than it should have.

So much better.

You had imagined every worst-case scenario: confrontation, exposure, betrayal. But instead, Rafayel had just… listened. No tense interrogation. No fear. Just that easy warmth of his, disarming without even trying.

You shake your head slightly.

Strange, how simple it felt to be around him.

Not safe, exactly – you know better than to believe that already – but seen. Like you didn’t have to fight for every piece of yourself to be understood.

You stretch your legs out and lean back, glancing toward the small window. The skyline of N109 looms jagged against the artificial dark.

But in your chest, there’s still a faint echo of wind and sea air.

Maybe it makes sense. You’ve always sought the ocean when things get heavy. The salt, the endless blue, the quiet rhythms, they’ve always steadied you.

Of course you felt calmer there.

You hum softly to yourself, some tune that's lived in your mind longer than you can remember – airy and strange, like a half-forgotten lullaby.

You don’t hear the footsteps outside your door.

Sylus hadn’t meant to stop.

He was just passing by.

But the sound catches him. That humming, faint and familiar, threading through the air like a memory.

And just like that, something in him breaks open.

The hallway dissolves.

He’s somewhere else – somewhen else.

A chapel. Shadowed and quiet, filled with the scent of stone and herbs.

He’s on the floor, barely conscious, blood drying along his ribs. The pain sharp, but distant.

That tune – that same tune – floats to him through the haze. Hummed softly, steadier than his heartbeat. A balm against the ache.

And then another detail,

The smell. Something sharp and herbal, like salve pressed into a wound with trembling hands.

His chest tightens.

He’s not alone.

There’s someone there.

He feels them – kneeling beside him, smoothing his hair back. He can’t see their face. But they’re humming. And they’re warm.

Sylus exhales sharply, blinking hard.

His hand is braced against the wall, jaw tense. The humming has stopped.

Reality seeps back in.

He stays there for a moment, heart beating fast.

It was clearer this time. More vivid than any fragment before. Not just a dream. Not some trick of memory.

But even now, he pushes it down.

Is she remembering?

Why do these memories keep coming back to him?

Why now?

He leans against the wall outside your door, still caught in that strange whirl of memory and tension, when suddenly a pair of energetic footsteps come barreling down the hall.

“Boss! You gotta see this!” Luke’s voice echoes, a little too loud and urgent.

Kieran follows right behind, grinning widely. “No, seriously, you have to check it out.”

Sylus exhales sharply, pushing off the wall and straightening up as the twins approach.

“What is it this time? The vending machine finally decided to eat your money?” he asks dryly.

Luke chuckles. “Better. Some dumb kid in N109 tried to rob a corner shop with a plastic knife.”

Kieran snorts. “The shopkeeper chased him down with a broom. Epic defeat.”

Sylus can’t help the small smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “That’s… hardly critical.”

Luke grins. “Can we go check it out?”

Sylus shakes his head. “Not necessary. Let them learn their lessons.”

Kieran elbow-jabs Luke. “Come on, boss, you love the chaos.”

“Love it or not,” Sylus says, voice low but steady, “I’d rather not deal with it right now.”

Luke and Kieran exchange a quick look, sensing his mood, and then fall back into their usual banter as they walk off.

Sylus watches them go, then lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

He leans back against the wall, the sound of their laughter fading behind him, and quietly runs a hand over his face.

If she does remember…

If that’s true… it changes everything.

He turns away from the door and disappears down the hallway, footsteps quiet in the dim light.

a/n: godddd this chapter was hard to write omg. i hope u guys like it… <3 everyone is avoidant… who knows wtf raf is up to… at least the twins are having fun. i have so much planned for this story, i have to think like 40 steps ahead for every line i write lmao. everyone pray i stay hyperfixated on this before i fumble🙏🏻

🏷️: @paper--angel @leftpoetrymoon @istolepeanuts @rjreins @freeprincesslove @3fg7 @mariahuchiha90 @beaconsxd @poptrim @hon3yydew @pinkpastelbabygirl @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @yannew @peachystea @cms399 @marinenox @cottagedumpling @nightmarewasteland @mitskunicheesecake @katyeongs @shadowypeachsweets @saybeyonce @napforalifetime @bubera974 @moonlight-inthe-sea @xvilluis @potania @demon-master-zero @antonneva @fairestofnrc @orianakira

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writersrkive · 7 months ago

Text

Don't shut up | Spencer Reid

summary: Spencer is used to people who constantly tell him to shut up, but somehow, he feels even more embarrassed and sad when he thinks you want him to stop talking after looking at the tired and confused expression you have when he's trying to help you. The thing is you hate when people do that to Spence and would spend years just listening to his voice.

genre: fluff

pairing: Early seasons!Spencer Reid x bau!reader

warnings: mentions of the team shutting Spencer down. Derek and JJ being a little mean to him when he's spreading information. Spencer being a cutie potato. Mention of a stomachache and its causes (mention of miscarriage as one of the causes, but nothing happens). Reader not being a native english speaker, but just a slight mention.

a/n: Dr. Spencer Reid is a genius.... I am not. I literally had to search for information and copy-paste here in some parts, so if there's misinformation, it's Google's fault, lmao. I wrote this yesterday when I was about to sleep, so I'm sorry if something is wrong with the writing (even though I already edited). English isn't my first language, please be kind <3.

Navigation Criminal Minds masterlist Spanish ver. On Wattpad (coming soon)

Spencer and you arrived early that morning. He hated being late for anything. He couldn't afford to be late if he wanted to stick as closely as possible to his assigned schedule, especially because he took public transport. On the other hand, you had no choice but to arrive early when you woke up at four in the morning thanks to a severe stomachache and couldn't go back to sleep.

That's how your conversation started. Your genius workmate was surprised to see you, first hour in the morning, when he walked in the office, even before Hotch arrived.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows. You couldn't deny that the expression was too cute for your own good.

“Yeah… I think so. It's not even the stomach ache that bothers me, it's the fact that even if I was sleepy, I couldn't fall asleep again. You know? That happens to me a lot. Once I open my eyes, I can't go back to sleep. I've also been feeling mildly unwell for a week, but even though the medication is controlling it, it doesn't stop."

At this point, he already set up his desk, leaving his briefcase on his own chair to walk over to you and sit at your desk, next to the chair you were sitting in, to listen to you attentively and answer.

“The brain works with different phases of sleep: light sleep, deep sleep, and REM sleep. The cycle usually restarts every eighty to one hundred minutes, and we typically have four to six cycles each night.”

Hotch came out of the elevator and walked upstairs after both of you waved at him, and he let out a soft “good morning”. Emily arrived a few seconds later. You greeted her too, as she took place on her desk, but that didn't stop your conversation.

“So, it's completely normal that we wake up in the middle of the night because of that process, but if it is frequent, for three months or more, it may be a symptom of insomnia.”

Your view went to the floor, and your head nodded in a semi-unconscious movement, because although you knew that your sleep cycle was ruined by work, you had not come to that conclusion, maybe that was it.

“Now, the stomachache…” He said, taking one pen from your pencil case to concentrate. He usually never took other people's belongings or shared his own stuff because of the germs, but somehow, after a few years of working together, he had come to have a good amount of closeness with you to borrow some stuff from you. Months ago, it hadn't gone unnoticed by Penelope that Spencer had a box full of pens reserved for you, in case you needed one, nor the fact that he denied JJ one of them once, when the blonde girl needed something to write with quickly.

“The causes can be the most common, such as gas, indigestion, a muscle injury, or stress. Although there are also more serious causes: gastrointestinal infections, inflammatory bowel disease, irritable bowel syndrome, ectopic pregnancy or miscarriage..."

“Wow, what are you trying to do? Scare her?” Derek's voice invaded the place and Emily smirked.

“What? No, I'm just saying the possibilities…” Spencer whispered, looking down, a little worried that he might actually scared the person he cared more, besides his mom.

“It's okay.” You answer loud enough so your friends and coworkers would hear. “Thanks, Spence. I already went to the doctor, so I have none of… those.” I gave him a little smile. “But about stress…” The sentence hung in the air, so Spencer looked up and continued speaking automatically.

“Stress can cause stomach pain because the autonomic nervous system of the gastrointestinal tract reacts to the same hormones and neurotransmitters as the brain. This is because the digestive system is connected to the nervous system, and the enteric nervous system, which is located in the digestive system, is able to send and receive impulses and assimilate emotions.” He started to talk faster.

Your focus on the genius boy and his explanation was sincere, but maybe it was the fact that you didn't rest well, plus the fact that he was speaking too fast and not vocalizing all the syllables, that for a moment your brain didn't process what he was saying.

It was weird. At some point you didn't even hear words, just sounds from his mouth. That didn't happen to you for a really long time because you already had experience with the native speakers, even if english wasn't your mother language. The exhausting feeling of not being able to sleep well was definitely to blame.

While your brain was coming to that conclusion, Spencer could only see your furrowed brow, tense jaw, tilted head, and dissociated look.

“You want me to shut up, right?” That whisper was enough for you to come back to reality. His cheeks were red and his eyes looked a little sad, not to mention the way his mouth formed a line like whenever he felt awkward.

“Yes, please!” Derek answered instead, leaning back in his seat and looking up with his arms outstretched as if he'd had to deal with seven unsubs in the five minutes he'd been there, listening from his place to the information Spencer was giving you.

“Little genius boy got excited… again.” JJ said, looking at some documents in front of her, opening her eyes wide in an expression of tiredness and disinterest.

The young profiler stood up from your desk thinking about returning to his chair, a little embarrassed, but you took his pinky with yours —that way you wouldn't make him feel uncomfortable in case he wasn't in the mood for physical touch, something he refused unless it was you. Again, another special treat—. “Wait. It wasn't like that.” Hazel eyes looked at you intently, still with a bit of doubt. “I'm sorry Spencer. Yes, you got excited, but that's not something bad.”

“It isn't?” He questioned.

“No, but you started to speak fast, and the fact that there are some words that I have a hard time processing in English and I couldn't quite catch what you were saying because I didn't sleep enough, well, that distracted me. Would you mind repeating it again, slower?” This time, you were the one with warm cheeks.

“Oh. Are you sure you don't want me to shut up?” The boy was actually intrigued and a little surprised.

“Why would I want that?” The fact that your teammates often shut Spencer up when he tried to share extra information, or information that he had been asked about, was something you had noticed from the moment you started working with the team. You thought that was rude. You understood that sometimes Spencer got excited, gave information that was perhaps better saved for another time since you were investigating a case, or people could be tired and want silence, but the team either silenced him or made fun of him most of the time. Plus, there weren't many other things you liked more than hearing his voice.

The sweet, soothing tone of his words helped you sleep on the jet after a long case, or made you want to hear more about whatever he was talking about. Feeling like he was sharing with you, a mere mortal, some of the vast knowledge he had was nice.

“I'm always happy to hear whatever you need to say, even if it's about something I don't understand. And, right now, you are helping me a lot, so, please, don't shut up.” The crimson color returned to the tall boy's face, this time not because he was uncomfortable. Your kind and somewhat complicit smile made his heart race, like almost every time he was with you. Spencer knew that no matter how tired he got, he would never shut up if you wanted him to keep talking.

3K notes · View notes

eddiesfaerie · 3 months ago

Text

who you let in

Summary: Jack has a soft spot. He didn't expect you to be the one to find it. (6.9k words) read on ao3 here

Pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, porn with plot (the storyteller within me can't help it), unspecified age gap, hurt/comfort for both of them LOL, canon typical gore? medical stuff? idk, panic attacks, trauma, angst, power dynamics (reader's a med student), suicidal ideation, Jack being flustered, oral (m receiving because he needs it), big dick Jack, fingering, rushed sex despite how long this fic is i'm sorry, unprotected PIV sex, Jack's sort of a soft dom, semi-public sex, praise kink, competency kink, lots of fleshy bodily words in here to describe lust idk

AAAAA i just spent all day writing this yes i'm embarrassed <3 also haven't posted my writing in like actual years at this point.... anyways be nice to me

It’s unlike you, Jack thinks to himself, to look so out of it.

GSW to the chest. A young girl in her early twenties maybe. She’s lost a lot of blood. Her blonde hair somehow already matted with it, so much so that she could pass as a natural brunette. It’s gone dark with oxygen and coagulation.

Your team huddles around her, as do the other units around the dozens and dozens of gurneys being brought in one after the other, unrelenting and without promise to end soon.

All protocols you’ve learned in the last year are out the window. Disregarded for the mass casualty event that was PittFest. None of the residents had ever seen anything like this, you’d never seen anything like this. This was the most action you’d ever witnessed and suddenly you felt like there was a balloon in your own chest, compressing air flow or blood flow or something to your head.

All the blood, the smell of metal inescapable no matter which section of the ER you were suddenly rushed to.

Your knees go weak, they shake, your hands shake. Everything’s wrong-

“She’s going white Abbot pull her out.”

You hear your attending huff from right behind you before his hand finds your bicep, curling around it and pulling you from where you leaned over the patient. You can hardly protest, your mind elsewhere and your feet blindly follow Dr Abbot who leads you to the family room.

“Robby I need you to cover over on the GSW to the chest for a sec.” He calls over, his voice ringing in your ears, your mind trying to focus on one single thing but everything’s registering all at once. His hand on your arm, all the beeping, the cries of agony, tubes being intubated and balloons being puffed into chests. It all seems a lot further away when Abbot closes the door.

You never thought you were particularly his favourite. You’re much younger and typically too upbeat. You clash naturally, he’s not drawn to you and you’re not drawn to him.

Dr Abbot is unafraid of correcting you in front of your peers. After a year now of him being your attending you’ve become familiar with his ways but that doesn’t mean you’re any more appreciative of the public humiliations.

There’s something about these older ex military men, the ones who joined too young and have been in the system ever since, climbing up and up the ranks, hardening at each level to a point where disassociation is expected. Hold it in, hold it together. There’s is no I in team. All for one and one for all. All that bullshit.

Dr Abbot wasn’t really that guy to a T but hell was he uncrackable, unshakeable, hard as stone. No doubt it’s helped him here in the ER, you’ve never seen someone as laser focused and capable as Dr Abbot. It’s almost effortless for him, it seems. Like he doesn’t have to think twice about anything. His confidence is unmatched and you’d always admired that, no matter how much you thought he disliked you. So yeah it was kind of surprising when he was the one to pull you away for a time out.

Jack never meant to become so attuned to you. He didn’t do it on purpose. He blames it on being your attending for a while now, he’s worked with you the closet over this past year and he knows how you work, how you operate. He didn’t mean to but it happened. He feels like he can read you like an open book, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, on your face. You’ve never been one to conceal how you were feeling, unlike him. So when you stopped talking, stopped making little remarks and little jokes, nearly frozen and clearly dissociating, he knew what was happening long before the resident called for you to be pulled out. He wanted to give you a moment to bounce back as you usually do.

Dr Abbot closes the curtain to the family room, shutting the door. He turns around and finds you still awkwardly standing there, eyes far off, elsewhere. He had expected you to take a seat immediately, he doesn’t know what you’re still doing up considering how close you look to collapsing.

“S-sorry I don’t know what’s happening, I-” You stammer, embarrassed yet not in control of whatever’s taking over your mind and body.

“Hey, hey stay with me, kid. Don’t go to that place.”

Abbot puts his hand softly on the middle of your back, guiding you to the chair. You sit down reluctantly, unable to move your body in a coordinated way for some reason. He kneels in front of you, groaning as he goes down and his knees cracking.

“Listen, don’t tell anyone but I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks, okay?”

“Is that- is that what’s happening?” You ask dumbly, squeezing your eyes shut. You suddenly feel dizzy. Not enough oxygen to the brain.

“How does your chest feel? Can you breathe?”

“I feel like I can’t.”

“Then yeah, that’s what’s happening.”

Your lip wobbles despite how much you’re still trying to hold it together, that much Abbot can tell. You’re fighting like hell against this panic attack which might only threaten to make things worse. He grabs your hand in his, squeezing lightly. You’re barely able to return it.

“What are five things you can see?”

“W-What?” You sniffle.

“Tell me five things you can see, come on.” He squeezes your hand again, reassuringly.

You try to take a deep breath but your diaphragm spasms and it comes in all shaky, causing you to hiccup like a child.

“Y-you.”

Against all odds, Dr Abbot smiles. Incredibly small but you see it.

“That’s right. What else?”

You try to take a deep breath again. “Uh, the paintings on the wall.”

Abbot nods. You continue.

“The curtains. The chairs. The door.”

“Good. That’s good. What about four things you can touch?”

“Your hand.” You say most obviously, since he’s still holding your clammy hand in his. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so shaken up.

Dr Abbot squeezes your hand again and this time you squeeze back, a silent thank you of sorts.

“Um, my scrubs, my hair on my neck, the wind from the fan.”

“Okay, now three things you can hear.”

“Your voice.” Dr Abbot chuckles, like he was expecting it.

“Sure.” He nods.

“You’re breathing.” You take a deep breath now, as if it reminded you. Abbot breathes deeply with you.

You try to motion lazily to the door, “The doctors outside, I can hear them talking.”

“That’s right, and they’re being pretty loud, aren't they?” He tries to joke, to lighten the mood.

You nod your head, yeah.

“What about two things you can smell?”

You go to open your mouth but Abbot cuts you off again.

“And don’t say me, we’re about an hour into this shift and I know I’m not smelling too pretty right now.”

You laugh, you actually giggle a bit, albeit a bit breathless, your body still trying to catch up to your more relaxed mind. Jack smiles.

“I can smell metal and disinfectant.”

“Okay and one thing you can taste.”

Your cheeks burn a bit. You know it doesn’t mean anything but when you started each sentence with something relating to him… You can’t help but think.

“My stale gum.”

Jack chuckles a bit, shaking his head. What were you doing with mouth in your gum. It’s not allowed on shift but everything had started so suddenly you hadn’t had a moment to toss it and you got scared on choking on it if you swallowed it.

Abbot clicks his tongue at you in disapproval, holding out his open hand near your mouth. You look at him confused, but he just gestures to his outreached hand.

“Spit it out, let’s go get you a new one, hmm?”

Your face burns again, but you do what he says for some reason.

Because he asked.

He closes his palm around your gum for a moment before easily tossing it into the trash can in the corner of the room.

Dr Abbot stands back up, knees cracking again. He helps you up, holding your elbows in each of his hands. You’re still a little wobbly, weak in the knees from your body’s sudden breakdown. You haven’t yet regained all your strength.

You try to steady yourself, your hands gripping his forearms, trying to concentrate on the strength of him holding you up.

You suddenly feel oddly close to him. Not just physically seeing as how close you two are standing but in the air, it feels like something’s shifted, like something’s irreparably been changed between you two. He’s just seen you at your most vulnerable, talked you through your first panic attack and even admitted to having experienced them himself. How many people in the ER can say they know that much about Dr Jack Abbot.

Maybe you’re just over analyzing what’s transpired.

“How you feeling?” His voice sounds out and you realize you had your eyes squeezed shut, when you open them Jack’s peering down at you, trying to give you the softest look he can muster.

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah? You don’t have to be.” You shake your head no.

“No, no I’m good. Promise.”

“I’ve got my best med student back?”

You can’t help but look at him quizzically, laughing a little.

“I don’t think I’m your best med student but sure, I’m back.”

“Come on, take the compliment.” He quips and it surprises you. You didn’t think he’d press your objections.

“I actually thought you-” Hated me, you want to say.

“I know.”

Oh.

“I know I’m hard on you. But I only do it because I know you can take it. I think it makes you better.”

Your lips go into a hard line, you nod. Right….

“I mean, it doesn’t hurt to be told I’m doing good every now and then. I do think I’m tough, you’re right, but I don’t know… I like this side of you.” You admit before you can stop yourself.

Now it’s Jack’s turn to blush. His cheeks go red in that boyish way and it blossoms all the way to the tips of his ears. Your heart leaps a bit.

If you weren’t back to yourself before, you were now. You’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing even though you��ve both let go of each other. It was sobering.

“Alright kid, as long as you don’t tell anyone.” He winks.

You burn.

“Promise.”

Things did, in fact, change after that.

Dr Abbot pulls you for huddles, just you and him now for feedback, no longer doing it in front of the other med students, doctors or attendees.

You stand closer to him, he stands closer to you in general.

He’s not afraid to grab your hand and stop you from doing something. Or start something. The amount of times he’s guided you through a procedure you’d never done before with his steady hadn’t engulfing yours, guiding a blade smoothly through a patients skin or a thin tube through an incredibly small incision.

You wondered if anyone noticed. If anyone had become attune to the fact that you followed each other around like each other’s shadows. Never one without the other. You could see Princess and Perlah whispering to each other whenever you stood close to Dr Abbot, you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that at least someone noticed how he’d picked you as his favourite and warmed up to you. It made you feel special, all girlish and giggly even though it absolutely shouldn’t.

A new unusual sound had started to fill the ER. Jack Abbot’s laughter, even quiet giggles fuelled by none other than you. Not even Robby, once his rival now best friend in the ER, could get that sound out of him as often as you do.

Jack gets you sandwiches, juice boxes from the cafeteria when you look particularly out of it or if the moment granted a quick escape for food. He’d find a chocolate bar or anything to perk you up on days where you weren’t doing so hot, or had a particularly anguishing patient. Death was inescapable in the ER, everyone knew that but not everyone handled it well, it didn’t matter how well versed or experienced you were in the medical industry.

Not even Jack himself.

The night shift was now coming to a close, meaning the clock was close to striking 7am. That awkward time before the day shift shows up and the night team goes home to sleep through the day, all to start again in 12 hours.

It was weird working in the off hours, you felt like a vampire or a bat, you thought to yourself as you climbed the steps to the roof, trying to find Jack. You knew him well now, and you know where he goes to run away when he can’t handle the weight of the shift anymore.

You open the door, it creaked open annoyingly loud, announcing you rather ungraciously.

Jack drops his head low at the sound of the door opening. He knew it was you coming to find him. He leans back against the railing behind him.

“What are you doing up here?” He asks, calling out to you without turning his head. The wind carries the sound of his voice to you.

The sun is threatening to come up over the city line, light only beginning to spill upwards into the sky, painting the clouds all pretty shades of light blue, pink and orange. You struggle to take in the beauty due to the night that just transpired.

The vet hit and run. It was a hard one on Jack. He’d known guys like that in the military. They seemed untouchable, surviving tour after tour. It was never easy to watch one go, especially the ones that made it home and get taken out in some seemingly avoidable way.

Some church bell tolls in the distance. You approach him, unsure how to answer what you’re doing up here. Checking on you, wanting to make sure you’re okay, everyone’s worried but the reality was no one batted an eye at him escaping after spending the last two hours coding this guy into the system. This was how Jack operated. Disassociate, dissociate until he couldn’t anymore and his feet carried him up to the roof. Contemplating.

So you don’t say anything, you just stand behind him.

Jack’s skin looks golden up here. The light passing through his curls, catching the greys. Your heart tightens.

“It’s always a rough way to end the night.” You offer, unsure of what else to say.

“I must’ve had a reason at one time to keep coming back but… I can’t think of it right now.” Jack grips onto the railing, leaning forward and looking down below him.

You instinctively reach out to him, your hand going for his bicep, it’s closest to you. Despite the cool early morning air, his skin was still hot to the touch, still coming down from what had just gone down in the ER room.

“Jack…” You can’t help but sigh, silently pleading with him to stop.

His head turns, dark eyes meeting yours. God he looks so sad, a man worn down.

And you realize you’ve never called him by just his name. Just Jack.

“D-Dr Abbot, I mean- sorry.”

He doesn’t correct you. He doesn’t particularly care right now. And the way you said it makes his heart tight like your hand is on his arm. Palms clammy with being so high up and so close to a ledge. You never liked heights and you hate that he’s always flirted with them.

He clicks his tongue, sighing before crouching down and reeling himself back over to your side of the railing. You sigh in relief, you hadn’t realized you were holding your breath.

Jack is completely distraught. He looks wrecked, broken.

Your hand still on his arm, he comes to face you, standing so close but you can’t find it in you to step away from him, not when he’s like this.

Jack drops his forehead to your shoulder, you try not to freeze up at the sudden extreme closeness.

“Are you okay?” You ask dumbly, voice gone quiet because of how close he is. Your lips ghost over the shell of his ear, plush flesh on soft cartilage. Jack shivers, turning his head slightly and his nose pushes into your neck.

What else is there to say to such a quiet man, lost in his own solitude of reflection.

“No.” He says simply, plainly.

Your heart aches for him.

Your hand is still on his arm, you flatten it and trail it up to his shoulder, squeezing him there.

He presses himself closer to you. You hold your breath, your heart threatening to leap up out of your throat. You swear he must feel it beating through his own chest. You think you can feel his.

He trails his nose along your neck, up your ear. You can feel that subtle white beard that carves the angles of his face so sharply, so perfectly, colour so soft and white it nearly blends into his skin seamlessly. They catch at your skin in that scratchy way and its almost too much.

His hands, they move and suddenly they’re on your waist, sliding around the circumference of you until he’s enveloped you in his strong arms. You can feel how sturdy he is, how solid and strong from years of exertion and force and yet you feel like you could blow away at any moment. This cannot be real. You can smell his hair, the remnants of his cologne peaking through the smell of antiseptic and disinfectant. You can smell him.

He knows this shouldn’t really be happening. You both do. You’re both very much aware of that fact. Even though its just a hug its just a hug. Jack had been aware of it ever since that day in the family room when he first worried about you. Because that’s what friends do… they worry about each other, right? Friends….

Jack lets his nose travel higher, along your hairline behind your ear, relishing in the closeness of another living, breathing human being. Warm flesh against flesh, closeness of muscles and organs. Hearts, beating. When was the last time this happened? When was the last time he let his walls down like this? You both wondered.

“I’m sorry.” He offers lamely, voice quiet and matching yours. He tries to pull away from you but his body doesn’t get the memo, he stills clings to you. He’s afraid of what would happen if he were to let go now. Surely he’d crumble into nothing off this roof.

He moves his head, nose against your cheek as your hands move to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt in your palms. You don’t want him away either. You need him close, suddenly very close. Despite your breathlessness at the closeness, you think you’d stop breathing if he were to pull away now. You wouldn’t bear it.

You shake your head no, “Don’t be.” You reassure him, voice still quiet.

Something posses you and you nudge your nose with his, Jack sighs loudly, arms tightening around you and you sigh too. Your mouth opens in an innocent way, trying to get more oxygen to your brain. But you can feel his breath on yours, feel it fanning against your lips and you lean closer, pushing your nose into his again and he has to use every iota of strength within him to not lunge into you.

This shouldn’t be happening, he reiterates to himself. All the alarms are going off in his head. He shouldn’t be touching you like this, he shouldn’t have grabbed you, you shouldn’t be letting him. You could both get in serious trouble for this.

But you fist at his shirt, hands trembling against his chest, feeling him, muscles under supple flesh. Your lips part, small breath fanning against his lips and he breaks. He’s just a man.

Jack presses his open mouth to yours, and you let him again for a reason he doesn’t quite understand. It’s sloppy in a desperate way, passionate and sad. You could cry if you weren’t so wrapped up in the feel of being completely encompassed by him, his soft lips on yours.

You open your mouth wider, your hands moving from his chest to wrap your arms completely around his neck, hauling his body into yours as if you couldn’t get any closer. You wanted to meld into him. Bone fusing to bone. You let your tongue poke out and suddenly he’s right there with you, his tongue going as far into your mouth as it possibly can, trying to get to every inch of you. Jack whines and you burn at the pathetic sound. A grown man, whimpering for you. Your knees threaten to buckle.

His body flush with yours, you can’t help but feel how his body reacts to you. Hard and solid against your hip, your leg as your bodies writhe against the other, pleading to get closer.

“Jack,” you whimper into his mouth, unsure, testing.

Jack lets his lips travel to the corner of your mouth, kissing every inch of you that he possibly can, your teeth as you say his name, your cheek, earlobe, the spot underneath your ear.

“Tell me to stop.” He groans, hands moving back to their spot on your waist, trailing down to your hips where he grinds you against him, making that aching part of him known.

You whimper again, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head like the sun threatens to come over that edge and catch you both where you ought not to be.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You admit, face burning even though you’re both as debauched and pathetic sounding as the other.

Boldly, you let one hand travel down from his neck, down his body to softly touch in between his legs, feeling where he’s hard, aching between his legs. He groans again, this time absolutely pained, his forehead dropping to yours.

“W-We shouldn’t be doing this.” He admits, like you both don’t know that already. He’s practically begging you to give him a reason to stop this now, even though he knows he’s already too far gone to do anything at this point. You’re too warm, too welcoming and soft and willing. Salvation.

“Especially not here.” You manage to laugh a little. Suddenly you pull away from Jack and he thinks that’s it, you’re calling it. His instincts propel him to check his watch to check the time. T.O.D. Time of death. He’s being dramatic.

You pull him to the opening of the stairwell, creaking open that squeaky door once again and you lightly press him against the wall furthest away from the stairs.

It’s an enclosed space, a room up on the roof. You have to open another door to get to the stairs which lead all the way down to the ER, blocked by another set of doors. If someone were to go into the stairway, you’d hear them from a mile away. At least that’s what you hoped.

Jack let’s you move him, lets you press your body against his and kiss his tanned, freckled neck. Your hand finds its spot on his crotch, feeling him through his pants. God he hasn’t gone down an inch. He feels huge, painfully hard. You can’t believe you’re feeling him like this. You can’t believe The Jack Abbot is letting this happen, you can’t believe he wants it. With you.

“Can I?” You ask, already lowering yourself to your knees.

Jack just looks at you in complete and utter disbelief, mouth agape as he watches you get down on your knees, pressing your face to his clothed dick, kissing him through the fabric. Kill me now, he thinks. If anyone were to find you both like this…

He feels like a dirty old man as you pull his cock from his pants, watching it spring up and slap his belly with wide eyes, like you need it, like you’re suddenly starving.

His cock is huge. You don’t know what you expected but it wasn’t this. You try not to look frightened by it, by the prospect of shoving it into your mouth and hopefully, your cunt.

He’s your attendee, you try not to think about that. Try not to think about how you’re his subordinate and he’s so much older than you, experienced, well versed. This is all completely wrong, incredibly fucked up but fuck if it doesn’t turn the both of you on just a little more in the worst way.

His dick is hot in your hand, skin like silk and you salivate at the pure sight of it. You look up at him, his face flushed all the way up to his ears and down to what you can see of his chest poking out through the small v in his shirt. Skin on fire.

You give him a sort of inquisitive look and he realizes he never answered you. You looking up at him with those big, needy eyes. He can only bring himself to nod his head, at a lost for words.

You smile up at him, hand already gliding up and down his thick length. Jack hisses at the near foreign sensation, in this moment he can’t bring himself to remember the last time this happened, let alone a time when it wasn’t his own hand. Yours is much smaller, more delicate than his, you can barely wrap it around the entirety of him and suddenly he feels dizzy.

You lean forward, kissing the tip of him and he squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, they open and close into fists at his sides. God does he want to touch you, to have you let him take what he wants but he’s afraid. Afraid of over stepping, afraid of scaring you.

Suddenly you’re opening your mouth and kissing at the head of him, licking at his slit, collecting whatever’s pooled there and humming to yourself at the taste. You’re worried you’ll become addicted to this.

More of him slides into your mouth, all the way until he’s hitting the back of your throat. Suddenly his hands are flying to the side of your head, holding you there. His eyes open and he looks down at you, eyes intense, mouth set into a hardline like he’s barely hanging by a thread. You make eye contact with him and he groans, loud. You’ve only ever seen him like this leaned over a patient, intense focus, blinders on to anything except the task at hand. But this time its you. Your pussy throbs.

Jack let’s himself thrust into your mouth a couple of times, eyes squeezed shut again, head leaned back against the wall behind him in complete surrender to you and your mouth. He says your name so broken, like its the only thing he can remember, the only thing keeping him grounded.

You wonder if he’ll let you fuck him.

A few more thrusts and suddenly Jack is pulling you off of him, looking back down at you again and hauling you back up to your feet. You give him the saddest eyes and he swears his heart breaks.

“I’m- I was gonna cum if you kept that up.” He sort of laughs to himself. Jack’s never felt more out of practice than he does now, pants down around his ankles, cock heavy and begging still in your hand, and a young, pretty girl looking at him with wet eyes, hungry for him.

What did he do in a past life to deserve this?

“That was kind of the idea.” You smile, bitting your lip and your hand continues to move up and down on his aching length.

Back face to face now, Jack can’t believe he has you like this, lips plump and swollen with exertion and slick with spit. Your eyes are dark with greed, hunger for something else. He never though this would happen, not between the two of you. Not that he ever explicitly thought about it but there were moments of weakness. Moments where he let his mind wander as he held your hand in his, guiding you through a procedure, noticing your body and its proximity, its warmth, that girlish smell you carry around you. You’ve always been intoxicating, a temptation just begging to be indulged in. Had he mentioned how wrong he thought all of this was?

“Jack?” You ask, pulling him out of this thoughts.

“Hmmm?” He basically slurs, distracted by the continuous movements of your hand on his cock, it was on the verge of turning painful.

“I asked you if you’re gonna fuck me.” You ask, devilish grin plastered on your face like you’re the cat who got the fucking cream. Or is at least trying to.

Jack lets out a broken laugh, voice cracking from your particularly harsh grip on him.

“Is that- Is that what you came up to the roof for?” He jokes but suddenly you think he’s being serious.

You worry thats all you thought of him, of this. A quick fuck, a need for release, a need to forget what happened tonight.

“No, Jack that’s not- I swear-” You struggle to find your words.

Jack smiles at you, it alleviates some of your worries. His hand moves and finds the waist band of your pants, he shoves it down until he’s cupping your sex. You gasp, his hand hot, feeling your hotter core and whats embarrassingly seeped out of you ever since you pulled him from the railing.

Jack clicks his tongue at you, like he always does.

“Yeah, I bet you want me to fuck you, alright. You’re soaking for it.”

Oh fuck.

You whimper, leaning easy into his touch, letting him feel you.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans, his fingers gliding easy through your glossy folds, playing around in the mess you made. Its embarrassing. So much so that you almost miss him calling you baby.

Jack doesn’t fight the temptation long, no matter how much he wants to tease you about it. His two fingers find your hole and push in steadily, afraid to hurt you. You gasp, body falling into his, letting him hold you with his other arm. Your hand on his cock stutters but is determined to keep pleasuring him.

You moan when he pushes his fingers all the way in, crooking them to press up against that spongey spot inside of you, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head.

“Fuck-” You choke, head heavy on his shoulder, your lips grazing his neck as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, switching it up between that and toying with that fucking spot inside of you.

“Jack, I’m-”

“Oh I bet you are.” He chides and you burn.

This could have been so humiliating if you chose it to be. How quickly you folded for him, how badly and desperately you needed him. As if he hadn’t folded just as quickly, if not faster, for you.

Suddenly his fingers are ripped from your core and he’s ripping your pants down along with your underwear. You step out of them quickly, letting him manhandle you around to get you were you wants you.

“Look at you listening to me so easily now.” Jack remarks, turning you around and pushing you up against the wall.

“I always listen to you.” You admit, voice breathless and breaking and sounding completely debauched.

You feel him step in to your space, you arch your back instinctively and Jack basically purrs all soft for you. You feel the head of his cock at your entrance, threatening your folds. You whimper, shiver. You try to push into him but his hand flies to your neck, holding you still where you are.

He leans over your back, rucking your shirt up with the hand that was holding his dick. He hadn’t meant for this to happen like this, all dirty and rushed and in his fucking workplace. He thinks about the rest of you, hidden under your scrubs, how he’d kiss every inch. Maybe that was for another time. Hopefully.

“I know you do.” He praises, kissing the back of your neck and pushing into cunt in the same breath. You both groan way too loudly, pure relief coming over the both of you.

Jack breaches you slowly, he knows he’s big. He’s not even being any type of way about it, he just knows its a lot from past…. flings. But God do you take him like a champ. You push your hips back into his, needing him to fill you completely you’re fucking whimpering for it.

But Jack’s still got his hold on you, pinning you down so he can work you onto his cock slowly, at his own pace. He’s in control here.

You both moan again once he reaches the end of you, fully seated in your velvety pussy. His head falls onto your back, his arms wrapping around you to hold you to him, anything to get closer. You scramble to gain purchase on anything, the wall, his strong arms, anything. You feel dizzy, you feel full, you feel drunk.

“Always so good for me. Such a good girl” He moans, hips pulling back to just thrust back in punishingly. It punches a moan out from your gut.

You nod your head, unable to speak. I try to be good, I try to be.

Jack doesn’t wait, this has to be quick anyways, you both have been gone for far too long, he’s suddenly reminded that the day shift will be showing up in a matter of minutes and God knows Robby will be looking for him up here. His dick throbs at the thought of being caught balls deep inside of you, his little med student.

He pulls you back by the ass to meet his hips, pumping himself in and out of your creamy pussy at a brutal pace, his eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head. He says your name, you’ve never heard him say a name quite like that and it breaks you.

“I-Is this good?” He asks, trying to be sexy but it comes out broken, desperate and pathetic.

You nod your head frantically again, trying to turn your head to look at him and Jack’s heart soars at the sight. Your pupils blown black, eyes big and watery from the feel of his cock filling you up to the absolute brim, hair matted to your sweaty forehead. He wants to lick the sweat from you. Next time, next time.

Jack leans closer, kissing you on the open mouth and you moan debauchedly into him. As he moved closer to you to keep kissing you it pushed his cock that much further into you, his hips grinding into your ass and his cock into the absolute end of you. You can barely keep yourself standing, you’re thankful for Jack’s strength keeping you up, you could’ve had both feet off the ground and you’d have no idea.

His cock pummels into you, moan after moan being punched from your chest, your gut, the deepest part of you.

You whimper into his mouth at his sweet kisses in contrast with his harsh thrusts, it was enough to make your head spin, your pussy clench, threatening to burst.

“Tell me it’s good, need you to say it for me.”

“S-So good, Jack. You feel-”

“Yeah?”

You cry, you think a lone tear falls from your eye and maybe Jack kisses it away or licks it but his cock doesn’t stop and suddenly you’re cumming, completely surrendering your body to his. You shudder and twitch and your pussy squeezes his dick so tight he nearly sees stars, it takes everything in him to not blow his load inside of you in that instant.

That would be bad, that would be really bad, that would be messy and irresponsible and fuck he’s not wearing a condom how could you both have been so stupid and drunk off each other to not grab a condom. It’s not like you have them in your scrubs but theres a dispenser in the bathroom and -

“Jack please,” You beg, voice so small and worn out. Your hand reaches out behind you, grabbing for him and suddenly he’s pulled back to the very real reality where he is fucking the shit out of you and he’s about to cum about it.

“Please what?” He asks, needing to hear you say it.

“Need you- need you to cum for me. Please Jack.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want this to be over, he needs this to go on forever, needs you to suddenly be his salvation, he’s not quite sure how he’s gone on this long without you but he knows he can’t go forward without it.

Jack’s body tenses, his cock somehow gets impossibly harder, you feel it thicken inside of you and you moan again, another orgasm threatening to rip through you.

But suddenly he’s pulling himself out of your greedy hole, his voice breaking as he spills himself onto the concrete floor beneath the both of you. Your cunt pulses, desperate to have him fill you again. Before you can protest his fingers lunge up into your abused hole again and he grating at that spot inside of you, the one that has you seeing stars.

“Need another one, yeah?”

“Jack- fuck!” It complete takes over you.

Somehow without having to even tell him, he felt the way your pussy spasmed and cried around him right before he pulled out, he knew you were close to cumming again. And ever the gentleman he is, he’s going to give you another one.

He’s unrelenting, just like he was with his cock. His two fingers crook up against that spot again and suddenly you’re seeing stars.

Jack’s arm wraps around the front of your shoulders, hauling your back straight against his chest, holding your trembling body to his. You can feel his slowly softening cock against your lower back, cum still dripping from it onto your ass.

“Do it, please.” He begs of you this time, the muscles in both arms trembling from his own orgasm.

Jack feels your pussy spasm again, feels the way your chest quickens its breathes, the way your feet nearly kick out from under you with the strength of it all and your cumming on his hand, your eyes going black and blind from the force of it.

You slump back against him, letting him hold you once again. Jack wraps both his arms around you, swinging you around so that his back is pressed against the wall so he can lean on something. You both try to catch your breath, clinging to each other with leftover desperation.

Greedily, he lets a hand swipe through your abused folds, collecting what you’ve given him. You whimper, leaning your head back to hide it in his neck, embarrassed.

“Jack,” you whine in a pathetic attempt at protesting.

He clicks his tongue at you, “Let me.” He tells you, plainly.

His fingers linger, scooping up what he can and bringing it to his lips. He licks everything, groaning at the taste and letting his eyes close. You whine, pushing your face further into his neck, smelling him. He smells manly, like sweat, cologne and sex. You let it envelop you.

Jack holds you like that for as long as he humanly can. Before the thoughts of getting caught inevitably come crashing down upon him again.

“We have to move, kid. Can’t stay like this forever.” He tells you in a sad tone. You press a final kiss to his neck, breathing him in before pulling away.

“I know.”

You both pull yourselves back together. Jack puts his own pants back on as he watches you pull your underwear on slowly. Mindlessly, he reaches for your pants and holds them out for you. You put your hands on his shoulders while you step into them.

“Thank you.” You tell him, voice gone quiet again, like you already have to be hush hush about this.

Jack kisses the top of your head sweetly. You wonder what’s to come after this. You look up at him and he gives you that slick side smile you’ve only seen him throw Robby or Dana.

“Didn’t know you could make noises like that.” He smiles and you push him back against the wall you were both just fucking up against, your face absolutely burning. This motherfucker likes making fun of you.

“Jack I swear to God-”

He grabs you and kisses you again, holding your face to his. You let him kiss you, fighting the want to just melt back into him and stay here.

Jack pulls away first. His anxiety getting the best of him.

“Can I drive you home?” He asks, unsure of what else to say. He needs to get you out of the workplace and have a normal fucking conversation with you that doesn’t revolve around grief and dying kids and elderly on life support.

And besides he knows you take the bus.

“Yes please.”

okayyy i literally had to cut it short because this shit was getting too long LOL, i had a full final act outlined but maybe that could be a shorter part two if anyone's interested..... lmk <3

#jack abbott #jack abbot #dr abbott #dr abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #the pitt #michael robinavitch #reader insert #smut #jack abbot fic #dr abbot fic #jack abbot smut #my writing

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pedroscurls · 24 days ago

Text

love at last (one-shot)

summary: harry’s never been in love before… until he meets you, which awakens a part of him that he never thought he was capable of.

pairing: harry castillo x fem!reader content warning(s): minor spoilers so please beware!, love at first sight trope, harry is charming and completely smitten, mainly harry POV, harry + reader go on dates!, no use of y/n. word count: 4.6k a/n: i just finished watching materialists and i'm OBSESSED with harry so obviously the next best thing is to write for him. please heed the warnings, there will be a few spoilers mentioned in this story!!! hope you enjoy nonetheless bc i'm gonna be dreaming about harry for a long time (look at those CURLS in that second pic tho jfc 🥵)

Harry had given up on the idea of love. He hadn’t felt it before and he felt like life was just passing him by. Was something wrong with him? Was he just not capable of falling in love—being in love?

Lucy was a good match for him, but it felt forced. There was a mutual attraction, but something had been missing and he wasn’t sure what it was.

Not until she said that she didn’t love him. Harry realized at that moment that he didn’t love her either. Lucy said it was supposed to be easy, but he wasn’t sure anymore. He tried Adore’s services, but the matches didn’t feel real, didn’t feel authentic. These women just wanted him for his money, his height, his job. He checked a lot of the women’s boxes—he was a unicorn, which Lucy liked to put it.

But it never felt easy. He looked at each woman from a business standpoint, something transactional, but Harry yearned for something more.

Something deep.

Something real.

So, he canceled his membership and decided that maybe love was just never going to be in the cards for him.

And maybe that he didn’t need it anyway.

The dating scene in New York was horrific. To you, it felt like every nice man in the world didn’t exist. All the dates you had been on ended terribly—with some even ending early.

The men were either too judgmental or too self-centered, or worse—just wanted one thing and one thing only. Was it this hard to find someone nice? You thought maybe you had been too picky, so you lessened your expectations—that didn’t work either.

So, you decided to stop dating altogether and instead put your focus into work. If the universe wanted you to be in love, then maybe you should just be patient and let life do its own work.

Harry had felt instant attraction before, but the first time he laid eyes on you it felt like time stood still. You were laughing at something someone said and he felt a flutter at the pit of his stomach. He’s never seen you at any of his family’s parties before, he would have remembered you.

He ordered a drink at the bar as he glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Your smile was so warm, so kind, so genuine. He normally has this natural confidence in him, but when he saw you walking towards the bar, he straightened up and felt his heart race faster.

Maybe you were a friend of his sister-in-law, he wasn’t sure. His family’s parties were usually so big that he doesn’t remember who’s who. But he knew that he was definitely going to remember you.

The party was for his brother and his wife—a baby shower and gender reveal. A year after their wedding and they’re already expecting.

He felt you stand next to him and then he heard your voice, which only made him even more nervous because you sounded so sweet, so nice. Harry had taken a deep breath and then finally turned his body to face yours, but when your eyes met his own, he felt his stomach do flips.

“Hi,” you said with a small smile.

“Hi,” he replied with one of his own.

“Friend of the family?” you asked.

Harry shook his head. “Older brother.”

You widened your eyes and reached out to rest a hand over his forearm—a natural reaction from you. “Oh my god, you’re Harry.”

Harry looked down at your hand briefly and smiled, nodding in your direction. “That’d be me. Are you friends with my brother or…”

“I’m friends with Charlotte,” you answered, dropping your hand from his forearm. “I was teaching English abroad so I couldn’t make it to her wedding. I’m just glad I could make it for this event.”

“Where did you teach?” Harry asked.

“Philippines,” you smiled brightly. “It was amazing. I loved it there.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile too. You made him feel comfortable, despite the nerves he was feeling before you walked over. “And now? Are you going back there to teach?”

You shook your head. “It was only a two year contract. I have my certification now to teach English to non-native English speakers here in the States, so New York is home for now.”

Harry could hear the passion for your work in your voice and the way your entire face lit up. It was refreshing—talking to someone who actually enjoyed what they did for a living. “So you’re teaching at a school? Elementary?”

You let out a quiet laugh and shook your head again. “As much as I loved teaching younger kids when I was in the Philippines, my focus now is teaching adult learners. I work at a local community college.”

Harry smiled to himself. He heard the bartender set your glass of wine next to you and you turned away from him to thank the other man from behind the counter. The same genuine and kind smile lining your lips.

“You sound like you love your job,” he said.

“Oh, I do. It’s a lot of work, but it’s so rewarding. I try to tell my students that learning English shouldn’t ever replace their native tongue,” you continued. “That their native language is something to be proud of and that just because they’re learning English doesn’t mean it replaces the language they know and grew up with.”

“You must be an amazing teacher,” he grinned.

“I try to be,” you laughed quietly. You could feel your cheeks heating up as you took note of just how handsome he is. You had heard about Harry from your dinners with Charlotte, but she didn’t say how extremely handsome he was or how deep his brown eyes were.

“And I’m just in private equity,” he sighed teasingly.

“Well, at least you’re rich,” you laughed quietly. “I bet that’s nice.”

Harry shrugged. He wondered if this is where the conversation will shift, if the genuine authenticity he felt from you will disappear. “It’s a family business.”

“Oh, so it’s not what you would have wanted to do?” You asked, taking a sip from your glass. You lean against the counter of the bar and stare up at him. “If it isn’t, what would you have wanted to pursue?”

Harry tilted his head as he brought his own glass to his lips. He stared at you from the rim of his glass and then dropped his eyes momentarily to look down at his feet. “Not sure. I haven’t really had the chance to even think of what I would want to do if I wasn’t in the family business.”

“Hm,” you said, eyes looking up at him from top to bottom. “Maybe a model?”

He grinned. “Are you hitting on me?”

“And if I am?” you smiled, eyes staring deeply into his own.

Harry’s brows slightly raised at your forwardness and he glanced off to the side when he heard his name being called. Then, he looked at you and shot you an apologetic look. “Could I get your name?”

You smiled and shrugged. “Find me later if you really want to find out, Harry.” You turned on your heel and left him at the counter of the bar when the other guests approached Harry. You glanced over your shoulder to see his eyes staring directly at you as he nodded at whatever the other person is saying.

You and Harry kept stealing glances at each other from across the room. You could see the way his eyes lingered along your frame and you’re already three drinks in and feeling very brave.

When Charlotte and Peter found out they’re having a boy, the music only became louder and everyone began dancing. Harry’s eyes stayed focused on you as he walked through the crowd straight to you. He sat next to you and smiled to himself, tilting his head in your direction.

“Will you tell me your name now?” Harry asked.

You smiled and nodded, telling him your name as you turned your body to face his. You drape one of your legs over the other as you set aside your finished glass of wine.

Harry smiled. “It’s nice to officially meet you,” he nodded. “Now, would you like to dance?”

“Oh, I don’t—”

Harry interrupted you by standing up. He extended a hand out for you and maintained that charming smile. “If I say please, will you reconsider?”

You bit your lower lip and shook your head, slipping your hand into his own. He helped you to your feet and then led you onto the dance floor. One of his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he kept a tight hold on your hand. You bit your lower lip and moved your free hand to rest on his shoulder.

Being this close to him was intoxicating—feeling his broad chest remain flush against your own, his deep brown eyes staring directly at you as if you were the only person in the room, and god he smelled so good. You inhaled quietly and let your eyes fall shut, allowing him to lead you through the slow dance.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” he whispered into your ear.

You pulled back and opened your eyes to look at him. He’s still fucking smiling.

“Are you asking me out, Harry?”

“Would that be a bad thing?”

You stared into his eyes as you both sway side to side to the song. You had sworn off dating after so many failed dates, but Harry… Well, there was something about him that piqued your interest from the moment you laid eyes on him today.

“Well, no, but—”

His smile dropped and his eyes softened. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask if you were seeing anyone.”

You could feel his hold around you loosen, but you tightened your grip around his hand and pulled him back flush against you. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Oh,” he nodded slowly. “Okay, great. That’s—That’s great for me,” he chuckles quietly.

“But I kind of sworn off dating… at least for a while,” you admitted. “Lots of bad dates and I just—”

Harry spun you around and pulled you back into his chest, holding you tighter now. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he whispered. “Do whatever you want to do… and if after that date you decide you want to officially swear off dating, then I’ll go my own way and you’ll go yours.”

“You’re charming, you know that?” You smiled, biting the inside of your cheek.

Harry shrugged, though a large grin lined his lips. “So, is that a yes?”

“Okay, one date.”

“One date is all I need,” he smiled, kissing your cheek and holding you firmly against him as he continued to dance with you.

On your first date with Harry, he had taken you to one the finest restaurants in New York. It had taken you by surprise and you felt very out of your element. You weren’t used to dates like this. He was very chivalrous—he showed up with flowers, opened doors for you, pulled out your seat, and even offered his coat when he noticed you were getting cold.

And the conversation came easy. He made you laugh and you made him blush. How could someone like him be single? When he reached for your hand during the walk around the park, you looked up at him and found him smiling in your direction.

He didn’t kiss you on the lips when he brought you back home. Harry had just cupped your cheek, whispered that he had a great time, and kissed your forehead. It was the simplest gesture, nothing too grand or over the top, but you felt your stomach flutter with butterflies.

Then, you asked him out for a second date. He was grinning—dimples deep in his cheek as his hand dropped from your cheek to wrap around your waist. His strong embrace filled you with so much warmth, so much anticipation because for some strange reason, it felt like you belonged there. In his arms.

He insisted that he take you out to one of his favorite restaurants and you agreed with a smile. Harry kissed your cheek that same night before walking back to his car. He waited until you were inside before driving away.

On the second date, Harry wanted to surprise you. He took you to a sushi restaurant—something more casual, but still romantic nonetheless. He rented out the entire small restaurant just for the both of you. The look of surprise on his face made him feel proud, more confident that maybe you wanted to date him more exclusively.

Harry enjoyed spending time with you and how you had always given him your sole attention and focus. It even brought a smile to his face at just how kind you were to everyone you encountered. During the date, you were intrigued and interested in how the head sushi chefs were making the food.

It was such an intimate setting and it felt easy. Harry had to wonder if this was what Lucy said a year ago—love should be easy. With the right person, love can be the easiest thing in the world.

Throughout the date, you were becoming more touchy. A hand on his forearm or leaning against him as you let out a laugh that wracked your entire body. Even after the date when you both were walking around the same park again, he had taken your hand and you laced your fingers with his. Then, he felt your head rest against his shoulder and it made the flutter in his stomach more noticeable.

When he dropped you off at your front door, you had stared up at him with your big eyes and he wanted nothing more than to pull you into him and press his lips against yours.

But Harry didn’t. He wanted to respect you and your boundaries. You were playing with the lapel of his jacket before gripping it and pulling him against you. Harry’s hands had darted out to rest on your hips—to steady you, to ground himself.

“Are you gonna ask to kiss me, Harry?” you had whispered.

Harry’s lips parted as he stared into your eyes. The grip on the hips tightened and he gave you a single nod. He had taken a step forward, eyes completely dark and filled with desire. “Just wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

You smiled and moved your hands to play with the hair at his nape, the curls at the back of his head. You leaned in—just enough for the tip of your nose to brush against his. Harry inhaled sharply.

“If you don’t kiss me now, Harry, I’m gonna think you don’t like me.”

Harry tilted his head and leaned forward, nudging your nose with his own. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He moved one of his hands to your cheek and leaned in to press his lips firmly against your own. He remembered how soft and warm your lips were, the sound of a quiet whimper escaping you, and the way his heart was racing. Harry hadn’t felt like this before—how even when he wasn’t around you, all he could do was think about you, or how the butterflies in the pit of his stomach fluttered whenever he saw your name flash across his phone.

It also made him feel special whenever you were together. You were kind and generous to strangers, but he always felt like the luckiest person whenever your attention was shifted to him. This was only the second date and Harry found himself wanting this to be more exclusive as the date continued.

The kiss lasted only a few more seconds—the both of you getting carried away before you pulled away from him. Harry remembered the look on your face. The small smile that lined your lips, the way your arms had loosely wrapped around his shoulders, your eyes gazing repeatedly down to his lips like you wanted more. Needed more.

“Where do you want to go for our third date?” he asked, whispering quietly as he brushed his lips with yours.

“How about I plan it?” you replied, pursing your lips to capture his own in a gentle kiss.

“Yeah?” Harry asked, dropping his hand from your cheek to join his other at your lower back. He laced his fingers and pulled you flush against him, the feeling of your body heat radiating against his own awakening something deep inside of him. Yearning. Desire. Need.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Let me take you out this time.”

Harry smiled. He had always been the one to plan the dates, to cater to the other person that he was slightly taken aback at your offer. It made him feel giddy, excited at the possibility of what you would plan. “Okay,” he answered. “I’ll let you take me out this time.”

“Good,” you smiled and pecked his lips. “I’ll see you then?”

Harry nodded, but pulled you back into a deep kiss. This time—it was intense, more intimate, urgent. His lips moved with your own and his hands drifted lower until the tips of his fingers rested just above your ass. He wanted to reach down and squeeze, but he didn’t. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.

“I’ll see you then, baby.”

On the third date, you had told him to dress casually. He called you just before he was about to pick you up, asking just how casual he was supposed to dress. You had smiled to yourself and told him casual enough to the point where he wouldn’t care if his clothes would get wrinkled.

So, when he picked you up—dressed in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with sneakers, you practically wanted to pull him back into your apartment. The date could wait a little longer. You loved seeing him in a suit—had gotten used to seeing him dressed so formally—but seeing him like this, so relaxed and casual just made him sexier.

“This casual enough?” he asked, presenting you with another bouquet of flowers.

“You look hot,” you complimented and leaned in to peck his lips. He smiled when you pulled away and then took your hand to lead you outside of your apartment.

“So…” you told him. “We’re having a picnic.”

Harry grinned and pulled you close to him. You hadn’t yet closed the door to your apartment, but he leaned in and pressed his lips eagerly against your own. Without hesitation, he had moved his lips with yours, hand moving to rest on your hip. “A picnic sounds nice.”

He didn’t know what to expect, but he certainly didn’t expect to be lying on a large blanket with you next to him. You both were looking up at the clear, blue sky talking about something so random. He felt his heart skip a beat when he heard you laugh—it filled his senses until all he could hear was you and how happy you looked. He wondered if this was what other couples felt like, if this is what they would normally do—have a picnic in the park, eat some food, then lie down in each other’s arms just embracing each other’s company.

When your laughter died down, Harry had moved to rest his hand on your cheek. You stared up at him, the smile still remaining on your lips. He felt like he could sense what you were thinking about, communicating with you through his eyes.

His thumb had brushed against your lower lip and he leans in, pecking your lips lightly.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry whispered. He felt the nerves begin to build and looked away from you for a moment. It wasn’t until you replied with a soft and quiet yes that he looked back at you.

“Would you want to date more exclusively? More seriously?” he asked in a rush. Harry’s eyes softened and the smile on your lips never faltered.

“I’d like that,” you answered instantly. “I’d like that a lot actually.”

“Really?”

“Really,” you repeated.

Harry let out a sigh of relief and leaned in to press his lips against yours again. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you lay on your back with him propping himself on his side to kiss you. He felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders—he couldn’t help but feel extremely overjoyed and happy that the feeling was mutual.

Almost six months later and now in a fully committed relationship with you, Harry finally understands what Lucy meant—love was supposed to be easy… and loving you felt like second nature to him.

You had been spending most days at his penthouse. There’s already a space in his closet for you and extra counter space in the bathroom. You manage to make this place a home—he’d come home and you’d be there in the kitchen, making dinner. Or on some nights, he’d catch you grading some papers. This felt easy. Being with you was easy.

Harry knew that he loved you the moment he laid eyes on you. It’s cliche—he knows—but every time he’s around you, his heart races. When he sees you smile or hears you laugh, it makes his stomach do flips. And when he’s holding you in his arms, his life feels complete—like the one thing that had been missing in his life is now here with him.

He hadn’t yet said he loved you because he wanted to do it right. He wanted it to be perfect. Harry had an entire date planned—he was going to take you out to the same restaurant from your first date. Take you for a walk around the park afterwards and then, he’d tell you how much he loves you. It was going to be romantic—something to remember for the rest of his days, but that morning… His entire plan was thrown out the window.

You were in his kitchen, dressed in one of his shirts, making breakfast. Harry had gotten used to this, but for some reason, that morning, he felt his breath catch in his throat. The sun shone through his large windows, illuminating you in a warm glow. He was dressed in a pair of sleep pants and a worn t-shirt as he stared at you, a smile slowly lining his lips.

He walked over to you and watched as your eyes moved from the pan and over to him. Harry bit his lower lip at the sight of your broad smile. You dropped the spatula and walked over to him, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders as you pecked his lips lightly.

“I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” you said. “Since you always like to surprise me, I figured I could return the favor this time.”

Harry chuckled and allowed his arms to wrap loosely around your waist. He held your body firmly against his own as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Why are you so good to me?” he asked quietly, hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

“Hmm,” you answered. “Maybe because I really like you.”

Harry grinned and pulled back to look into your eyes. His thumb brushed against your cheek as he tilted his head. “Yeah?”

You nodded, leaning against his touch. “Yeah,” you answered. “Consider yourself lucky, Mr. Castillo.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed as he reached behind you to turn off the stove. He lifted you off your feet to set you on top of the kitchen counter, moving his hands to rest at either side of you. He moved to stand between your legs as he felt your hands move to card through his hair.

“I am,” he whispered quietly. “Very lucky.” His eyes stared deeply into your own. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest—the nerves slowly beginning to build as those three words settled on the tip of his tongue. There was a tense silence that filled the air and it was almost like you could anticipate what Harry was about to say next.

Your hands moved to his cheeks, feeling the bristles of hair underneath your fingertips. You leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose as his hands moved from the edges of the counter to his rest on your hips.

“Baby,” he said softly.

“Harry,” you replied.

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “I thought I’d never be capable of love. It just always seemed so difficult for me, but you—loving you is easy.” Harry couldn’t help the tears that build in his deep brown eyes. The way you were looking at him now eased so much of the nerves and worry that he felt. “You make me feel—baby,” he sighed—his breath catching in his throat as he brought a hand up to wipe the fallen tear that trickled down his cheek once he blinked.

“Hey…” you whispered, kissing his cheek lightly. “I’m in love with you too, Harry.”

He pulled back. Eyes wide, features etched with shock. “You make me feel good,” Harry continued. “Valuable. Seen. Heard. Special. Every moment spent with you is always better than the last, and when I’m apart from you, I’m always counting the minutes until I can see you again.” He let out a shaky breath as he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours. His nose brushed against yours as he whispered, “I love you. I think I loved you the first time I saw you.”

“God, I forgot how charming you are,” you teased, hands moving to his shoulders as you slowly wrapped your arms around him. “You made me believe in love again, Harry. I’m so glad I said yes when you asked me out… and to think, I could have missed out on this, on you.” Leaning in, you pecked his lips lightly. “And loving you is easy too. You make me feel safe and I’ve never felt that before… with anyone.”

Harry smiled and gently pulled you off the counter, your legs easily sliding around his waist as he walked you both to the large couch. He sat down with you on his lap as he brought a hand up to your cheek. “Move in with me?”

“Didn’t you know?” You smiled, leaning in to brush your lips with his. “I was slowly beginning to move my things in anyway,” you grinned.

Harry chuckled, firmly pressing his lips against your own. “I love you, baby,” he mumbled. “So much.”

“Mmm,” you smiled, pulling away briefly. “Gonna show me how much?”

His eyes darkened instantly and he wrapped his arms around your waist to swiftly lie you on your back against the couch. Harry settled himself between your legs as he leaned back in—eagerly pressing his lips along your jawline down to the side of your neck.

“Oh, baby, you know I will,” he grinned against you, peppering light kisses against your neck.

The feeling of his stubble tickled your skin, causing a fit of giggles to escape your lips. He smiled to himself and pulled away from you briefly to look into eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered, a content smile lining his lips.

“I love you too, Harry. Now get back here and kiss me,” you giggled, linking your hands together at the nape of his neck and pulling him back down to press your lips with his.

Harry smiled against your lips—contentment, relief, and happiness filling his entire soul.

Lucy forgot to mention that loving was only easy if it was with the right person.

And you—you were the right person for him.

#pedro pascal #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal characters #harry castillo #materialists #harry castillo x female reader #harry castillo x fem!reader #harry castillo x f!reader #harry castillo x reader #materialists fanfiction #materialists fanfic #materialists spoilers #story: love at last

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starrbishops · 13 days ago

Text

⟡Baby, I'm Yours⟡

(Bob Reynolds x f!Reader)

Summary: You have sex with Bob for the first time. (sequel to Risk but can be read standalone)

Word Count: 4K

Notes: Set after the events of Thunderbolts*, established relationship, SMUT, "what are we gonna do ride Bob" 😏, oral sex (f recieving), fingering, p in v, missionary, cowgirl, multiple rounds (super stamina woohoo!) unproteted sex (wrap it up kids), Bob Reynolds has a big dick fight me on this, references to masturbation and wet dreams, aftercare, Bob's eyes glow when he cums (I warned you all)

a/n: So I finished writing this and then made this silly little textpost and uh. people liked it a lot so i'm proud to present you the basis for it. Just wanna say from the bottom of my heart Bob Reynolds is a little shit from Florida and yes he IS mostly submissive and he DOES whimper during sex but he is NOT an innocent baby boy and he CAN and DOES fuck. Okay rant done enjoy the sex.

You spend the next few minutes wrapped up in each other’s arms in the dim lamplight, kissing and giggling and just being together. It’s intimate, a kind of safety Bob hasn’t felt maybe ever. It's exhilarating, like something out of a dream. You’re really here, kissing him, touching him, wanting him. The thought just plays over and over in his mind. He’s so preoccupied by you, he’s barely aware of the growing hardness in his pants. Which you quickly become aware of.

You pull away mid-kiss, and Bob furrows his brow, worried he did something wrong. Even in the darkness, he can see the confusion on your face. “Um, Bob…” you trail off, not sure how to point it out. Then it hits him.

“Oh!” he scrambles back, grabbing a pillow to cover his lap. “I am so sorry, that, I did not mean to do that, I-”

“Bob.” you chuckle, a reassuring smile on your face. “It’s okay. I was just…surprised.” Bob laughs nervously in response, still clutching the pillow.

“Do you want to?” Bob tilts his head at your question.

“Want, want to what?”

“Have sex, Bob.” you say, flat out. You’re never one to beat around the bush, you get straight to the point. It’s one of the things he likes about you.

Still, his brain needs a moment to catch up to what’s happening around him. “Oh, um, do you? Want to?”

You nod. “We don’t have to, I mean, I don’t want to pressure you into-”

“I do!” he exclaims. “Want to. Have sex with you. Now. If you want to.”

You just smile, crawling over to his side of the bed. You unclasp his fingers from the pillow, taking its place in his lap. On instinct he wraps his arms around your waist, resting them just barely on the small of your back. He’s still not sure if he’s allowed to touch you, or should be. You kiss his jaw, gentle and soft, testing the waters. Bob’s breath catches as you do so, and you continue, trailing down his jawline to his neck, pausing at the conjunction of his neck and shoulder, where you begin sucking a bruise into the skin.

Bob releases a broken moan, his hands gripping onto your hips. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and get a sense of just how big he is. The Sentry Project changed a lot about him, you know that. It’d crossed your mind that it might have affected him down there, but it still surprises you just a bit. Or maybe he’d always been like this. He’s just as incredible to you, powers or not.

Satisfied with yourself, you pull away from Bob’s neck, grinning at the darkening bruise forming there. He moves a hand from you to touch it, as if he’s making sure it’s real. You take his hand in yours, placing it on your face.

He looks up at you with a hungry gaze, before moving in to devour you once again. Robert Reynolds kisses like a man starved, gorging himself on your affection for fear it’ll vanish once more. You hold him tight, kiss him back as hard as you can. A reassurance, a promise that you’re not going anywhere, not now, not ever if you had it your way.

“Take your clothes off,” you pant out between kisses. It’s not meant to be an order, but Bob certainly takes it as one, immediately rushing to pull off his baggy sweatshirt, followed quickly by his t-shirt underneath. Bob is the last guy anyone would expect to be jacked, but here he is.

You run a hand along the line of his abs, Bob shivering under your touch. “You’re beautiful, y’know?” you whisper, kissing his cheek as you squeeze his shoulder. He chuckles, nervously muttering something under his breath. “You are.” you insist, pulling back to face him. “Not because of your body, but because you’re you, okay?”

He nods, gazing up at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars for him. You’re not sure how to respond to his look of absolute adoration except to once again kiss him senseless.

He starts tugging on the hem of your shirt, a request. You’re still in your tactical gear, crumpled and dirty from your mission. You pull back, getting to work on removing your various holsters and hidden knives, Bob assisting you to the best of his ability.

“You have so many knives.” he points out, adding number five to the pile that’s begun forming next to where the two of you sit.

“You never know.” you quip as you find your last one, moving the pile over to Bob’s nightstand as he starts yanking your shirt up.

“Only fair.” he points out with a smirk. You raise your arms over your head, allowing him to tug off your suit, leaving just your bra covering your top. You reach behind yourself to unclip it, only for Bob to swat your hand away. “I got it.” he insists, taking only a moment as he unfastens it, tossing it somewhere in the room.

He takes a second to take in the view, his mouth hangs open in the shape of a smile, not sure whether to gape or cheer. He quickly puts his mouth to better use, kissing a trail down your collarbone to your breasts, one hand on each pressing them together as he lavishes them.

“Can I eat you out?” Bob’s voice interrupts the silence, peering up at you from between your breasts. “I-I’m not that great, but I want to try. Please.”

You nod, rolling off of him and laying on your back while Bob settles himself between your legs, busying himself with tugging your pants off. “Have you done this before?”

“Hm?” he snaps out of his focus at the sound of your voice. “Oh, yeah, I just, never really got to do it properly, y’know? Take my time.” He tosses your pants away, fingers hooking under your underwear before pausing. “Do you still want to?”

“Bob, I want you between my legs five minutes ago.” he grins and yanks off your underwear, not even tearing his eyes away from your pussy. Even hidden beneath his shaggy brown hair you can see his dark blue eyes are blown out with lust, lingering carnal desire evident on his face.

Bob doesn’t bother with words. He just goes to work, gripping your thighs in his large hands and licking a stripe up your cunt as you moan, your hands tangling in his hair as he begins to lap at you. It’s messy, imprecise, but god it feels so good. He’s learning, noticing what gets the most reaction and keeping it up. He sees how your breath catches when he just barely flicks his tongue against your clit, filing it away for later.

“Fuck, Bob, baby…” you pant, gripping his hair like a lifeline. “Not great my ass, you liar…”

Bob interrupts your jokes by sucking on your clit, earning another sudden moan from you before he stops suddenly, perking his head up. “Can I use my fingers?”

“Hell yeah.” you manage to breathe out. He nods and lowers his head back down, this time moving his hand from where it digs into your thigh to swipe through the wetness of your folds. He coats his index finger in your arousal, looking straight in your eyes as he licks it off.

“You taste so good.” you mumbles as he slowly inserts his finger into you, a choked out moan escaping your throat. Bob’s a big guy, and more than once you’ve imagined those massive hands of his fingering you. Reality is ten times better than any fantasy.

He starts slowly, putting what he's learned into practice and continuing to alternate licking and sucking at your clit while he presses his finger in and out of you. You jerk against his grip, back arching as he hits that perfect spot within you. His grip on your thigh just tightens, and he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “I got you.” he mutters, adding another finger and speeding up his pace, making sure to hit the spot that seems to make you go wild. It works, judging from the strings of expletives and moans that continue to escape you.

You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening as you writhe under Bob’s touch, every move sending licks of fire through your body. “Bob, Bob, ‘m so close, baby, please…”

Bob cuts you off with a moan between your legs, the vibrations reverberating through you, pushing you closer to your high. His eyes shut in pleasure as he devours you, the sound of you moaning out his name better than any high he’s ever felt.

“‘So close, Bob, please…”

He takes it as a sign, sucks on your clit even harder, opening his eyes so he can watch you fall apart under him. And you do, crying out his name, one hand with a death grip on his hair and the other gripping the pillows so hard he’s surprised it hasn’t exploded into feathers.

He keeps it up through your orgasm, slowing down the pace of his fingers and switching from sucking to gentle licks on your clit as you come down. “Jesus fucking Christ, Bob,” you pant, gazing down at the man between your legs.

“Did I do good?” he asks, his voice earnest and hopeful. It’s quite the contrast, the feeling of ecstasy still buzzing in the bones, the sight of your slick all over his chin, compared to the genuine worried look in his eyes as he asks the question.

“Yes, Bob, that was good.” you half-laugh. “I don’t think I’ve cum that hard in a long time.”

He grins, satisfied with his work. “Nice.” he crawls up your body, gingerly pressing a kiss to your lips. You taste yourself on him, the flavor driving you even crazier, making you more desperate for him. You lightly tug on his lower lip, earning a deep groan from Bob.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” he mumbles, the kiss becoming a collision of lips and teeth, the two of you stick with saliva and arousal. “You’re so perfect, and you want me.”

“Want you so bad, Bob.” you mutter into his mouth between kisses. “Want your cock, please.”

He moans, pulling away to look at your face, eyes dark with lust, lips kiss-swollen and wet, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Say it again.”

“God, need your pretty cock inside of me, Bob, baby, please-” he’s smashing his lips against yours again, one hand working on tugging his sweatpants off. He sits up, you joining in assisting him. He pulls his boxers down with them as he finally rids himself of the wretched garments, his cock laying hard and leaking against his perfect abs. It’s better than you could’ve imagined, long and girthy, veins running along it. A small part of you worries about walking tomorrow, but the part of your brain that is so goddamn horny overrules it.

“I got a condom somewhere, I think.” he’s saying, although you barely register it as you stare at his length.

“You’re good!” you snap out of it, Bob turning back to you. “I’m all clean, IUD, you’re good.” you clear your throat, a bit awkwardly, “I’m not planning on being with anyone else, so…”

“Oh my god,” Bob grins, settling himself back on the bed before pulling you into his lap, “I’m clean too, and I don’t want anyone but you. You’re perfect.” he presses a kiss to your temple.

You chuckle as you recall something. “Remember how John was saying we should ride you into the sky?”

Bob looks confused, but nods. You lean in, whispering in his ear. “This is what I was imagining.”

His hands grip your hips, a stuttered breath escaping against your shoulder. He can barely get the words, “oh yeah?” out.

“Yeah.” you whisper, nipping at his neck, before pressing a kiss to it.

He’s hot against your aching cunt as you raise your hips, aligning yourself with his hardened cock. The pre-cum leaking from his tip mixing with the abundance of arousal dripping between your thighs. “Y-you ready? I know it’s kinda a lot, I mean, it always was, and then Sentry, well-”

“Bob, you’re perfect.” you look him right in the eyes, giving him a kind smile, as if he’s not about to fuck you raw. “I want you. All of you.”

He nods, clearly psyching himself up. He’s had flings before, and he knows he’s a lot to take. The Sentry Project enhanced all of him, and he’s doing his best not to hurt you. “Just tell me if you need to stop, okay?” You nod, and with a sharp inhale you begin to lower yourself, the head of his cock breaching your entrance. You gasp, and he pauses, making sure you’re okay. You just nod fervently, unable to form sentences at the feel of him stretching you out. It’s a little painful, which you expected, but the pleasure far outweighs the fact that you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You continue, brow furrowed in concentration, whimpers escaping Bob beneath you at the feel of your hot cunt squeezing around him.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so good, hooooly shit,” he groans as he shuts his eyes in pleasure, doing his best not to cum when he’s only halfway in you, “you’re so fucking tight, oooh my god, are you okay?”

You nod, nails digging into his shoulders as you pause, trying to adjust to the feel of him in you. Even only halfway, the stretch is more than you’ve ever had before, and it feels fucking incredible. You start to understand the meaning of being cockdrunk for the first time.

With a final groan, you settle on Bob’s lap, his cock sheathed in you completely, panting at the feel of you around him. “Holy fuck,” he mutters, head hanging in the crook of your neck. For a few moments, the only sound is your intertwined breaths, your bodies hot and slick with sweat against one another as you sit there.

You roll your hips experimentally, a small moan escaping at the sensation. Bob’s head rolls back against the headboard, his grip on you even tighter than before. You’re gonna have bruises of his handprint for days.

You start slowly, rising and lowering onto his thick length. “Fuck, Bob…” you moan, eyes rolling back as you lose any sense of time and place, the only thing left the feeling of Bob’s body pressed against yours, Bob’s cock splitting you open as you bounce in his lap.

“You’re gonna kill me, fuck…” he groans into your neck as you quicken your pace, the need for him growing. He bites on your collarbone as another moan escapes his chest, thrusts quickening. He kisses the spot he’s marked, sucking a bruise into it. “You’re so good, so perfect…”

“All yours, Bob.” you pant, one hand turning his face to look at you. “I’m all yours, baby.”

The sound Bob makes borders on animalistic, a whine escaping his lips as he kisses you, sloppy and desperate. “I’m yours,” he murmurs against your lips, “I’m yours forever.”

The lewd sound of wet skin slapping echoes throughout his room interspersed with Bob’s whines and your cries. You look like an angel above him, the golden light illuminating your glassy eyes as you moan with pleasure, your tits bouncing with each movement. You can already feel your second orgasm coming, and from the expletives escaping Bob, he’s fast approaching his as well. And then you notice.

“I-is something wrong? You okay?” Bob murmurs, noticing your confused expression.

“Y-your eyes, Bob, fuck…”

He doesn’t even realize till now that his eyes are glowing. It’s another thing the Sentry Project changed about him. It happens when he gets too caught up in something, uses his powers, gets frustrated or angry. He’d never realized it happened in situations like this.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he tells you, clenching his jaw as he tries to hold it together, his eyes buzzing with light, the lamps in the room’s brightness going in and out. “Should I-where should I-”

“In me.” you moan you rapidly bounce yourself up and down, “fuck, Bob, fill me up, please!”

“So good to me, so pretty,” he murmurs as he desperately tries to hold out from his high, his grip on you bruising, quickly losing control of himself as he unwinds. “I’m gonna give you everything. It’s all yours, baby, all for you.”

“Fuck, yes, Bob! Please, please please please-” your babbling moans end with a last scream of his name as you cum, cunt clenching around him as you take him as deep as possible, pelvises flush against each other. Something about the golden glow of his irises, the low rasp in his voice, the words themselves, it all sends you crashing over the edge, an incoherent, animalistic noise escaping you as you cling to Bob, pressing your forehead up against his.

Bob whimpers, the glow from his eyes illuminating your face as you cum, the way your eyes roll back, the debauched expression you wear. It’s enough to send him over the edge, his eyes buzzing with light as he cums. With a cry of your name, Bob tumbles over the edge, arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You feel the warm spurts of his cum within you, painting your insides, claiming you for himself. The two of you sit there, panting and sweating as you come down.

“Oh my, fucking god, that was amazing.” he looks up at you, a tired, fucked out expression on his face. “You’re amazing.”

“So are you.” you smile, removing your nails from where they’ve left red crescents on Bob’s shoulder blades, moving to cup his cheek. “So good to me, baby.”

“I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, one hand running down to your waist.

You shake your head. “Well, I can’t really feel my legs, but I did expect that, so…”

“Sorry.” he says, though that smile on his face says otherwise. He’s proud of himself.

“‘S alright.” you sigh, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips. He whines, shifting his head to kiss you properly. He’s still inside of you, and you can feel his cock, still semi-hard within you. Even after two orgasms, you look up at him and want more, wanting to feel him, for the feeling of his skin on yours to never leave. “I could go again, honestly.”

“Really?” he laughs, a little surprised at both your stamina and the fact that you still want him. He sighs, one hand running along your jaw as he feels himself already growing hard once again. “I can’t say no to you.”

“So, yes to round two?”

“If I ever say no to that question, shoot me.” he grins, wrapping his arms around your hips as he rolls you both over, his cock staying in you the whole time. “How’s this?”

You yelp a little from the change in position, landing on your back and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders once again.

You’re still sensitive from your first two orgasms, and Bob is aware of that.“I got you.” he whispers into your shoulders, rolling his hips gently. “I’ll take care of you. Promise.” He goes slowly, his eyes locked on yours as you pant under him, head falling back against the pillows.He kisses you again, hungry and desperate, as he sets his pace, dragging his cock out before pushing back in once again. Bob is gentle with you, considerate, a man with the power of a thousand suns turned docile above you.

“So many dirty dreams about you, baby, you’re so much better than any of ‘em.” Bob mutters into your shoulder. He looks up at you, a little unsure, although his pace doesn't change. “Is this a dream? Are you here?”

“I’m here, Bob.” you moan, giving him a small smile as you run a hand through his hair. “I-fuck! I’m here.”

You look like heaven, messy hair framing your face, mouth gaping, eyes shut as you throw your head back. You’re all he wants, everything he needs. He could stay here forever, taking care of you, fucking you, whatever you want. Just as long as you neer stop giving him those sweet smiles, screaming out his name just like that as he fucks you.

“Bob,” you call his name in a breathy whisper, “more, please, baby.”

He nods, speeding up his thrusts, pushing into you with more force. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass as you pull him deeper into you. He breaks eye contact to look down at where your bodies connect, gazing at the sheen of your arousal around his cock, the white ring forming at the base of it. A mixture of both of your cum spurts out around where he’s entering you, and the sight somehow manages to make him even harder.

He’s moaning again, and before you know it his hands are on your face, pulling you up to kiss him as his thrusts grow harder and shallower, barely pulling out before slamming his full length back into you. “Fuck, Bob, yes, just like that, yes!” You scream at the sensation. You couldn’t give a fuck if the others hear when Bob Reynolds is on top of you, pounding his pretty cock into you, whispering dirty nothings in your ear.

One hand leaves your face and returns to the spot between you, rubbing gentle circles on your clit. “Come on, baby, give it to me, please.” he practically begs, dark blue eyes once again shining above you. “Need you to cum for me, come on my cock, please.” You do as he says, the coil in your stomach snapping once more, ecstasy washing over you, your cunt clenching around Bob’s length. Bob curses, pressing his lips against yours as he thrusts as deep as possible, filling you up with his cum once again.

“Fuck.” you groan, barely able to lift your head. “That was cool. The eye thing.”

“I didn’t know I did that.” he admits, rolling off of you. A small gasp escapes him as he watches his cum spill out of you, sticky and wet between your thighs. “You just look so perfect full of me.”

You smile, taking a deep breath as Bob quickly runs to the bathroom, returning with a warm towel that he uses to wipe you down. “Y’know, I never took you for a talker.”

“What, during sex?” he asks, as if he’s not literally wiping his cum off of you.

“Sex takes some of your brain cells out of you, huh?” you joke, sitting up on your elbows.

Bob chuckles, giving a small shrug. “I think that’s just what you do to me.”

After he’s carried you to the bathroom to pee, gotten you a glass of water, you settle yourself on his bare chest, running your finger along his collarbone as he shuts out the lights.

“You’re amazing.” you tell him between yawns, your eyes closing, exhausted by your activities. “Even if I can’t sit for a week.” you mutter, and then you’re out, breathing slowing as you drift off.

Bob ust smiles at the sight of you, resting against his chest, comfortable and content. Never in a million years did he think he’d have something like this. A home in the tower, a family in the team, and a love in you. “You’re perfect” he says to no one, pressing one last kiss to your hair as he wraps an arm around you, shutting his eyes for the night. “And all mine.”

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rex-rambles · 26 days ago

Text

➤ PROUD | MAX VERSTAPPEN

pairing: max verstappen x wife! reader, kimi antonelli + max + reader (platonic)

summary: kimi gets his first podium, max finds you crying in a bathroom, and you both realize you want to start a family together

wc: 2.6 k

warnings: none! a few innuendos on max's part

➤ MASTERLIST

You had been married to Max long enough to recognize when his focus shifted. When he stopped paying attention to useless questions, when a car caught his eye, when he heard someone saying something wrong about anything, really. It was the subtlest of changes, the softest of looks, but you saw the way he turned, just slightly, when the TV in the motorhome played a clip of the rookies, talking about pressure and the reality of F1.

He watched from the corner of his eye, his notes still in hand, so that anyone who might walk by would think he was deeply focused, and not distracted by a simple broadcast. You, however, know better.

You push off the counter of the small coffee bar, coming to take the hat from his head, and rake your hand through his hair instead.

He smiles slightly at the action, letting his attention break to look up at you. "Do you think they miss their mums?" You ask, eyes finding the broadcast. Max would've been about their age when he started, so young, so full of dreams. You weren't that much older than them really, but it was still enough to be daunting.

Being 18, like Kimi, was the time of little independent steps, going away to university, starting something new. Becoming a world-famous F1 driver when you're not even old enough to drink in some countries had to be quite the trip. "What?" Max responds, now turning to give the TV his full attention. "The rookies?"

"They just look so young." Doing all this, on their own. They might have teams and managers and fellow drivers, but it had to be terrifying. "It's got to be hard, away from family like that. And on Father's Day, too."

"I didn't miss my parents," Max says, returning to the notes in his lap as he lies. He can never look at you when he does. You never pressed about his childhood, though all you can imagine is that poor boy, charting across Europe alone to do all of these races, with all the stress. It can't be good for children, even if they are racing prodigies. "I turned out fine."

There's a beat of silence where you don't answer, and he lets out a soft breath.

"Fine, relatively speaking." He corrects. "Besides, with all the karting and F2 or F3, they're used to travel."

"Even when they're still in school, poor things." Max glances back at the TV as the clip of Isack hugging Lewis's dad plays, and your heart dislodges in your chest. That's a lot of pressure, something that never goes away with F1, or at least you've never seen it leave Max. He was becoming a beacon for the rookies, maybe because of it. He probably knew better than anyone how to handle that sort of pressure, the lifestyle change.

Someone walks by, cutting through the moment, and you and Max just look at each other as you wait for them to leave. There was so much more to be said on this kind of topic, specifically behind closed doors, but there was more than just Max being a good mentor that played into it. Finally, the person leaves, and Max returns to his notes. "If you're worried about their education, you could help them with their homework."

"Maybe I can cook them a nice meal. You can have them over." Max laughs, then, getting up from his chair to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close to him. The move startles you, so quick and so in public, but you lived for these stolen moments. Max was always like this when he knew no one could see. Little bursts of energy, the hidden romance that was best protected when others weren't around. You didn't mind by now, really. You'd rather your kisses be private than spread across Instagram. "What?"

"You are something else," He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Worry about me for a change, hm? Where's my home cooked meals?"

"They're a treat for when you win," You say as you press a quick kiss to his lips before finally pushing away. The last thing you needed was some photographer walking in on you two. "So go lose, yeah? Saves me from having to do the dishes."

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he prepares to go, and you're struck by a feeling you can't quite describe. It's a strange sort of love that twists in your gut, almost complete but not quite. Loving Max was always just a full-bodied feeling, that some small part of it missing was obvious. It wasn't nerves, though the butterflies still came out as he raced, as he battled for second place.

It wasn't anger, or concern, or sadness, no strange emotion you couldn't place. Instead, it just felt like you were waiting for the last piece to click into place, even if you didn't realize what it was. Max gets second, and the win doesn't really fix it either, though you're happy he placed well. He probably wasn't the most enthused at George's first, but then, as the racers settle, you realize who came in third:

Kimi.

Little Kimi, with his homework and the pressure and now, you realize as you watch the nearby Mercedes garage, without his parents.

That must be awful, you find yourself thinking as your heart sinks further into your stomach. What a race to miss, to have no one there to celebrate. The big screens catch your eye as you see Max approach Kimi, and for a moment, the world pauses as Max pulls him into a quick hug that feels like it might last forever.

That's the missing piece, you think.

Max had always been so good with kids. Whether his little nieces or nephews, or teenagers like Kimi, he had a way with them. He was patient, and funny, and kind, and welcoming. He was saying something to Kimi as your visions swims before you, a mix of emotions that truly catch you by surprise.

It's pride, and heartbreak, and knowing.

That could be your son someday. Maybe he had just done well on a test, or won a competition, you didn't care, and Max was hugging him like a father would. You turn back toward the Red Bull garage's bathroom, quick to try to calm yourself, but it's no use.

Max would make a fantastic father one day, and for the very first time, you realize that's something you can pursue.

There was something going on with you lately. Max hadn't really had too much time to notice it, with the triple headers and your work schedule, but you were just...softer. Not in a bad way, and not in a way he'd ever vocalize, but you were just so utterly irresistible and sweet. He didn't want to get out of bed, didn't want to leave your side, didn't even mind hearing you talk about ridiculous things like rookies being lonely and the best parks near his apartment.

But there was something brewing under the surface, and he didn't really know what.

Then again, he also just got 2nd place, and you're not at the barrier to greet him, so he doesn't really have time to focus on that either. He chalks it up to the crowds crushing in to get to George and Kimi, both for George's first win of the season and Kimi's first podium, both of whom refuse to stop smiling, especially once they get to the podium platform. Even from up above, however, Max can't seem to spot you. He can always find you in a crowd, a skill he prides himself on.

You were wearing one of his hats, and a cute little white dress, so it should be easy, but you're not with his team, not with the crowd.

Nowhere.

Finally, when he gets back to his driver's room, and it's empty, does he start to worry. "Have you seen-" He barely gets the word out before one of his attendants is gesturing towards the restroom with a strange expression, and Max panics at the thought of you being sick, of something being wrong, and he quickly knocks on the door. "Love? You okay?"

"Shit, Max-" Your voice sounds hoarse and Max's heart breaks at the thought of you being sick while he was out celebrating, but when you open the door just a crack, he realizes it's something else entirely. "Sorry, sorry, I'm a mess."

You let him into the restroom, a small space considering it's just a little side room, but that sort of invasion of each other's space had never bothered either of you. What does bother him is the tear-tracks on your cheeks, the way you laugh sadly as you try to wipe away the evidence. "What's wrong?"

You crying is not the most uncommon sight in the world, but the last time you cried at one of his races was because he won his fourth championship title. Maybe you were crying over how poorly he was doing? Maybe something terrible happened? "The video-"

"What video?" Max rushes out, coming to cup your face in his hands. "I swear, if anyone said anything-"

"You hugged," You say with another soft laugh, now truly confusing him. Max tries to wrack his brain for the last time he hugged a woman that might be taken as him cheating, and then what it might take for you to have a mental break. "And his dad wasn't there."

"What?" Then, the pieces click into place. "Kimi?" You nod, sniffing softly as you wipe at your nose with a tissue. "You're crying...because I hugged Kimi?"

"Our little baby got his first podium."

Our.

Little.

Baby.

Oh shit. "Are you pregnant?"

"What?" That seems to snap you from your tears, looking up at him before reaching out to smack his arm. "No! I can be emotional without being hormonal!"

"I wasn't saying that," He soothes, though he finds himself somewhat saddened by the answer in a way he never thought he would be. "You just called him our baby."

"He's your baby," You joke, covering your face with your hands. "He won and you hugged him, and his parents are here, and he's probably so happy I just...I can't. How could you not cry? He worked so hard!"

Max slowly wraps his arms around you and gently rocks you, unable to stop the growing smile on his face. Only you could get emotional about another man getting on the podium. You'd probably be like this for all the rookies, he thinks. He'll need to start packing more tissues. "But you didn't come to watch." I missed you, he wants to say, but right now is not about him.

"I didn't want anyone to see me like this and take it wrong." You say, muffled by his shoulder. "If I saw him in person I'd probably start bawling."

"Well, you should go congratulate him if it moved you to tears." He says, somewhat teasing, somewhat not. It was a very big thing for Kimi to finally get on the podium, and you were right. He worked hard to get here, taking third place in a way many other drivers couldn't currently.

Maybe crying over it was a bit much, but being proud? That was understandable. "Give me your sunglasses."

"Anything for you," He says, reluctantly pulling the sunglasses he'd hung on his shirt collar and handing them out to you. You walk, then, hand in hand through the garages before reaching Mercedes, which Max realizes is somewhat enemy territory, but for you, he doesn't mind. Kimi is off to the side to take pictures with some of the mechanics, all beaming ear to ear, and he hears you sniff beside him. "Hey, Kimi."

Kimi looks up with a grin, and you offer a small wave. "I just wanted to come congratulate you," You say, and Kimi immediately goes in for a hug, which somehow makes Max more emotional as he watches it.

That's the missing piece, he thinks, what he wasn't getting about the tears.

You were always so good with kids. Whether Max's own nieces or nephews, or teenagers like Kimi, you were always so good with them. Even now, Kimi sinks into your arms like you're his mother, like it was the kind of hug he needed. You already were so patient with Max, you had to be with children, so warm and honest and welcoming. Kimi could be your kid someday, maybe after having a hard day, or maybe after a good one, just needing comfort.

You would be an incredible mom someday, and as Max had said earlier, he'd do anything for you. A little baby, clad in Red Bull gear, with his hair colour and your eyes, it would be perfect.

Anything you make would be perfect. "I'm so proud." You say as you pull back. "Your parents must be so proud! Third! You're first podium!"

"You're going to make me cry," Kimi sniffs, and Max watches your bottom lip tremble. "No, no, don't cry too!"

"Alright, alright." Max wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side. "Both of you."

"Emotions are meant to be felt!" You say stubbornly, a reminder Max has had to hear plenty of times. You had never made him feel guilty when he got angry, never made him feel like he couldn't be sad. It was the sort of thing a parent should have said to him as a kid, the sort of thing that would make you a fantastic parent now.

"You know what they call you?" Kimi says, more to Max than you. "Mother Hen. Now you are Mother and Father Hen."

You tense in Max's arm, and he softly laughs. "We're adopting him." You state bluntly, looking up to Max. "Can we adopt all of them?"

"Bit late to adopt, I think." He says, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. "We'll just have to make our own."

"Hey!" Kimi says, hands flying to his ears like an actual kid as he laughs.

"You can be our babysitter," Max continues, reaching out to shake hands with the boy, who happily shakes it back. You, on the other hand, are shooting Max a rather strange look. "What? It'll be good for him to have a normal job for once."

"We can all take turns," Kimi agrees eagerly. "Ollie and I-"

You finally laugh, shaking your head as you take a step back, and Max doesn't blame you. Those boys probably got into more strange situations than Max did at that age, which is saying something. "There is no way both you and Ollie are looking after them. That is a recipe for disaster waiting to happen."

"What's a disaster waiting to happen?" George asks, and now it's Max's turn to tense. He was very good at being civil, good at hiding it too, but that didn't cut the tension in the air.

"Ollie and Kimi babysitting for us." You answer for him, head coming to lean back against Max's shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. It's the sort of admissions that would make headlines if it got out, but considering what Max was planning on tonight?

Probably wasn't too early to announce the baby.

"Babysitting?" George echoes, shocked. "Are you expecting?"

"Not currently," Max says before he can help it. "Give it about nine months."

"Max!" Your face flushes red, smacking at his arm, and he takes it as his cue to leave. "You are unbelievable!"

"Congratulations, Kimi." Max says as he leads you away, trying hard not to laugh as both Kimi and George exchange looks. "George."

You wave goodbye, turning around to look at them, and Max keeps his arm around your waist to drag you backwards. "You both did so well! You better celebrate tonight."

"I think you are celebrating enough for the both of us." Kimi answers, and George turns on him like a scandalized mother.

You laugh as you turn back around, and Max finds that he missed the sound. You crying was easily one of the things he hated most in this world, meaning your laugh is one of the things he loved the most.

Your hand slips into his, offering a squeeze. Only when you're finally out of earshot, the rest of the crews and the microphones and the eavesdroppers hidden away, do you tug harder on Max's hand, drawing his attention. "Do you mean that? About starting a family?"

"Like I said, anything for you." Then, after a beat, "We're not naming our kid Kimi."

"I know," You answer, leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "I was thinking George."

a/n: KIMI PODIUM! didn't realize i was a kimi fan until i genuinely got emotional at seeing him come third.

#➤ rex works #➤ mv1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #max verstappen fluff #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fluff #f1 imagines #reader insert #dad max verstappen #f1 fanfic

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zoldsick · 10 months ago

Text

── Lagneía

𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: shanks x f!reader - as the newest member of the red hair pirates, you have a long way to go to prove yourself, not only to your crew mates but your cocky captain as well. Unfortunately, things fall apart after a little excursion and a run-in with a glowing mushroom that has you feeling...hot.

𓍊𓋼𓍊 tags: smut, sex pollen, nsfw, dubcon (it's sex pollen, ya know how it is), MDNI

𓍊𓋼𓍊 wordcount: ~8k

𓍊𓋼𓍊 Read on AO3

𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊

You really did respect your Captain, though you didn’t tend to show it.

Benn Beckman was the one who had recruited you when he stumbled upon you in a gambling hall. You had been using Observation Haki to beat the dealer, racking up thousands in berri. Beckman clocked your underhanded method and cornered you outside the casino. You were nervous that he would report you to the authorities, but as luck would have it, he turned out to be a pirate. He was impressed by your advanced skills in Haki, and the two of you hit it off. Eventually, he brought you to the Red Force and introduced you to Shanks, who did not give the best first impression.

“Who’s the kid?” Shanks questioned, barely looking up from his drink.

He immediately rubbed you the wrong way.

Beckman cleared his throat before you could tear him a new one, “This is Y/N. They’re who I told you about, the one gifted in Observation Haki.”

Shanks finally looked up from his drink, lazily trailing his eyes from your feet, all the way to your face. He finally met your eyes and you struggled to maintain your composure under the immense pressure of his gaze. You lifted your chin, desperate to keep your dignity.

Shanks kept his eyes on yours, his gaze intense as he questioned you, “And why should you be a part of my crew? Have you ever been around pirates or even worked as one? It’s dangerous work. Are you sure you’re ready for this kind of lifestyle, kid?”

“I didn’t come here to be interrogated by some old man,” you bit back quickly.

Shanks put his hand over his heart dramatically, feigning emotional pain.

“Listen, Red Hair, I came here as a favor to Beckman, I don’t have anything to prove to you.” You paused as the hair on the back of your neck stood up, “And if your friend hiding over there even thinks about shooting that spitball at me, I’m walking.”

Beckman looked surprised, but Shanks only smiled. There was a clatter and some swearing before another man with dreadlocks emerged behind nearby ship supplies. “Well, shit. So much for that plan, Captain. Seems like she’s the real deal.” The man then jokingly blew the spitball at Shanks, who to your dismay, easily dodged it.

“Color me impressed.” You look back to see Shanks smiling up at you. “You have a lot of potential. Let’s work hard together, Y/N.”

…

While you didn’t join the Red Hair Pirates for Shanks, you became proud to be part of his crew over time. You had been sailing for around 6 months and were glad to say you had quickly proved your worth. Although there were members with better Haki skills, you knew you were improving every day with each new experience.

You hated to admit it, but your captain occupied much of your thoughts. You often wondered if Shanks knew just how hard you were still trying to prove yourself to him. Though you saw him often, you rarely ever worked with him directly. In fact, you’d barely spoken to one another after your first meeting. You had occasionally exchanged a few words, formalities really, at mealtimes and during duty; but a part of you wished there was more. Though, you would never let him know that.

You always put on a tough face in front of him, using words to bite back and hold your ground against the confident, and often cocky, Emperor of the Sea. Truthfully, after your first meeting you had come to admire him, and were slightly intimidated by the powerful man.

While sailing the Grand Line in the New World, the ship stumbled upon an uninhabited island. It was a warm, tropical island, thick with jungle and vines. Shanks decided that the crew would depart and explore the island for supplies, and Roux hoped to find some edible plants and animals for their stock.

All active members of the crew made groups and departed from the Red Force, but since you were not on shift, you’d decided to sleep in. When you awoke and found the ship docked, you decided it would be fun to explore the island as well. It was better than being cooped up all day in the barracks.

As you stepped down the ladder a cheery familiar voice called down to you, “And where do you think you’re going, kid?”

You jumped at your captain’s voice and looked up to see him. His hand gripped a rigging rope, holding him as he stood on the rail’s ledge, and leaned far off the ship to gaze down at you. His hair fell over his face, but his smile was still visible.

“God, Captain. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Well, I’m just trying to make sure our ship’s hawkeye doesn’t stray too far and get into trouble,” he teased.

“I’m not getting into trouble,” you grumbled as you looked back down to continue your descent onto the sand. “I just wanted to explore the island like everyone else.”

“Alone?” His smile slightly faltered.

“Is there a problem with that?” You ask, confused about where this conversation was going.

“Well, we can’t afford to lose a member with skills like yours. I’ll come with you.”

You reached the bottom of the ladder and looked up at Shanks in shock, “That really isn’t necessary, Captain. I don’t plan on going far-”

“Nonsense. Besides, you’re not much of a fighter, you should have a bodyguard when you go to unfamiliar places. And I have a duty to protect the valuable members of my crew.” As he said this he jumped from the railing and landed next to you.

You did your best to hide how flustered you were, “There are other members with better Observation Haki than I do, you included.”

Shanks tsked at your objection. He looked hard at you and spoke genuinely, “Don’t sell yourself short. I heard about how you helped the snipers take out that marine ship last week. And I heard how you helped guide the navigator through the rocky sea and fog the other day. I’ve only ever heard other crew members praising you.”

You quickly turned away from the red-haired man adjusting the strap on your bag. You knew you couldn’t stop the blush that was forming on your face, so you turned around to start walking into the jungle. “I just do what I’m told, Captain.” You quickly dismissed him, “Are you coming, or what?”

Shanks laughed as he caught up with you, walking ever so slightly behind you. The walk was silent as the two of you marched deeper and deeper into the jungle, occasionally stopping to inspect certain plants or animals or collect samples in your bag. He enjoyed watching you as you took in the new landscape around you. He’d always found it fascinating to watch you while you concentrated. In fact, he had rarely taken his eyes off you since you’d joined his crew.

From the second he met you, he knew you would be interesting. Shanks would be the first to admit he tested you during your first interaction. He purposefully pushed your buttons to see what you were made of. He needed to know how strong your resolve was before he let you, a stranger, onto his ship. And boy, did you meet his expectations, surpassed them even. Your insulting response nearly made him fall for you right then and there. But he knew his place as captain. He couldn’t risk showing special attention, let alone romantic attention to one of his subordinates. It was his job to keep you safe and provide you with a place to hone your abilities. He had to keep his distance.

Yet… here he was, an Emperor of the Sea, trailing behind you like a puppy. He was rightfully worried to see you sneaking off the ship after the assigned explorers already left. He was doing this because it was the captain’s duty to protect his crew. At least, that’s what he told himself.

As you pushed your way deeper through the vines you tried to ignore the fact that Shanks was tailing you. This was just like any other outing with any other crewmate. You felt his eyes on you the entire time as you walked, but you tried not to let it affect your movements. Was he judging you? You felt a little more self-conscious than usual about what you stopped to look at or how you collected samples. Especially when you caught him staring intensely at your hands.

You finally reached a large plateau. Looking up, you examined the wall looming far above your head, and at the base of the formation, there was an illuminated opening.

“Shanks,” you called out to your captain, “there’s a cave over there.”

Shanks shoved some pesky vines out of his face and looked toward where you were pointing. There was a small opening, barely 4 ft tall, and a blueish light was emanating from the abyss. You moved closer to the cave willing your senses to reach out and explain the phenomenon. You couldn’t sense any danger coming from the cave, so it was time to be like a pirate and explore.

“I’m going to go in.” You stated as you dropped your bag to the ground and started making your way to the entrance.

Shanks was quick, definitely not desperate, as he moved forward and grabbed your arm, “Woah! Hold on there. There is no way I can fit in there.” he gestured towards his large stature and again at the tiny entrance.

You considered the situation and shrugged, “Then wait out here. I won't be long, I just want to check out what’s causing the glow.”

Shanks frowned, realizing there was no point in arguing with you. “Alright, but be careful.”

You saluted him with an exaggerated hand on your brow and firmly stated,. “No.”

You turned away from him and focused back on the cave opening.

“Brat.” you heard him mutter under his breath. You turned around quickly, did you hear that right? He had a smile on his face.

You stared at him for a moment, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest. You smiled back before rolling your eyes and descending.

The walls of the cave were rich in color, with layers of lichen growing throughout the chasm. You strained your ears to listen for any unseen threats that could have been lurking beyond your sight, but all you could hear was the rhythmic drip of the cave walls weeping. As you bent and contorted your body to ease your way through the damp walls, you could see the blue light growing in intensity ahead.

Finally, you reached a large pocket of space in the cave, enabling you to stand straight and take in your surroundings. As you stretched out your back you stared in awe at the sight before you.

Dozens upon dozens of glowing mushrooms covered the room, growing across the walls and floor of the cave. The view was nothing short of dazzling, the light blue glow illuminating the space around you like nothing you had ever seen.

You approached the fungus carefully, although they were beautiful, you knew well that not all beautiful things were good. You drew a handkerchief from your pocket and crouched forward to grab a sample.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of your neck stood straight, and your blood chilled. You trusted your instincts and rapidly jerked backwards from the mysterious mushrooms. Unfortunately, you were not fast enough.

The gills of the mushrooms expanded and expelled a great mist of spores. The sickly sweet-smelling mist filled the room instantly and you yelped in surprise, feeling your way out of the room and back into the tunnel. You coughed as you darted through the veins of the cave desperate for fresh air and open spaces. You could hear Shanks calling out to you and you forced yourself to push forward toward his voice.

Shanks was anxious from the moment he heard you cry out. He felt helpless, unable to fit into the cave. He briefly considered blowing a hole through the mountainside to get to you. Thankfully, hearing your panting and clawing as you made your way out of the cave stopped him. He placed his hand above the cave opening and began calling out to you, begging you to keep moving toward him.

Shanks wasn’t prepared for what came out of that cave.

You stumbled out of the suffocating walls and fell onto the grass in front of your captain. You could vaguely hear Shanks, his voice filled with worry, but you barely registered it. Something was wrong. Your clothes felt tight and itchy, you felt your cheeks warm while the rest of your body developed goosebumps from the jungle air hitting your skin. And most troubling, everything from the deepest part of your core felt tight and ticklish.

Shanks knelt down, grabbing your shoulder to lift your gaze to him. The contact between the two of you sent electric shocks to your core. Sitting face to face with your captain you could barely breathe. At this distance, every feature of his face was at your fingertips. You took in your captain's features. The jagged shape of the scars that ran down his face, the prickly stubble he grew across his chin, his eyes bright with worry, the color of his lips… It took you a moment to realize he was talking to you.

“Y/N! Snap out of it! Y/N! What happened in there? What's going on?!”

The seriousness of his tone did not reach you. Why did he look so worried? You wanted him to smile at you like before. You reached up and touched his cheek with the back of your hand. Taken aback by this gesture, Shanks froze for a moment, then grabbed your hand, pressing it to his face harder. “Y/N. I need you to tell me what happened in there. You can do that for me, right?”

Your eyes widened, coming back to your senses you groaned as you tried to move away from Shanks and stand, only to find that your legs were jelly. “Capt’n. What's happening?”

Shanks let out a shaky laugh, “Well that's the million berri question right now, kid. Tell me what happened in the cave so I can help.”

You push your hands into your eyes, struggling to retrieve your memories, “The glow,” you whispered, “The glow in the cave. It was some kinda, I dunno, mushroom. It puffed some dust on’ta me.” you panted your words out.

“Good girl,” Shanks stroked your hair with his hand, “Now tell me, what did this mushroom look like?”

“Was so pretty, just like the sea. Blue and glowing.” You smiled at the memory of the beautiful sight.

While you reminisced on the memory, Shanks froze, overcome with the realization of what he was dealing with.

It happened several years before you joined the Red Hair Pirates. Shanks and Beckman were wasting the night away at some bar when a woman approached him. He had noticed the dark-haired beauty staring at him from across the bar but had paid no attention. It wasn't uncommon for him to get stares as an infamous pirate.

The woman set down a blue sparkling drink in front of Shanks, “Don't think you're from around here, handsome.” She smiled and batted her eyelashes at him, “How about we get to know each other over a couple’a drinks?”

Beckman stifled a snicker and Shanks shot him a glare. Looking back up at the woman, Shanks politely declined her advances, “Sorry, I'm afraid I'm not looking for any more company tonight,” Shanks slapped Beckman hard on the back making him wince, “This fella’s all the entertainment I'll need for the night.”

The woman tried to hide her annoyance with a smile, “Well then, sorry for interrupting.” She sneered as she turned away, “But the drink’s still on me. Do enjoy.”

Shanks and Beckman eyed each other and the drink skeptically. “Poison?” Asked Beckman bluntly.

Shanks let out a hearty laugh, “Well, only one way to find out!” And downed the sickly blue drink in seconds.

Shanks was stuck in his room the rest of the night, fisting his cock and rutting into his mattress. He admitted it wasn't his best decision. Hongo guessed that based on the color he likely ingested an aphrodisiac made from a plant called the lagneía fungi. “I've heard of petty thieves using it on pirates to steal their loot.” Hongo looked at Shanks scornfully, “Can't believe our captain fell for something like that …”

Shanks shook his head refusing to believe the evidence right in front of him. No! It can't be that. He brought his gaze back down at you and examined your face. You were flushed red, your pupils were dilated, and your gaze wandered across his body. He reached out to touch your arm and you gasped, goosebumps exploding from his touch. He really couldn't deny it any longer.

“Alright Y/n, don’t worry. You’re going to be just fine, just try not to panic.” Shanks spoke, trying to reassure the both of them. Despite his words, Shanks himself was panicking. What was he going to do with you? Sure, it's just an aphrodisiac, but truthfully the experience was borderline torture. Furthermore, judging by how quickly its effects were overcoming you, you must have gotten a serious dosage in your system. If you were a male member of his crew he would laugh it off and condemn you to your bunk with a porno mag like he had done for himself. But how could he let you of all people suffer alone like this?

“Am I gonna die? Everything feels weird,” tears pricked at the edge of your eyes, “like I’m on fire.”

“You’re not going to die.” Shanks insisted, “You’re just, going to be… uncomfortable for a little while. Let’s get you back to the ship so you can lie down.” Shanks bent down and grabbed one of your arms to maneuver you onto his back. Hoisting you up, your breath hitched as your center came into contact with Shanks’ back.

Shanks took off at a brisk pace, navigating the rough jungle terrain. You tried to take Shank’s advice to calm yourself, but you were distracted by the friction created between you and Shanks as he strode back to the ship at an agonizing pace. Everywhere you were touching him felt hot and unbearable. You began to feel a familiar sensation brewing in your lower abdomen. No way, there’s no way! You panicked at the feeling and tried to create distance between you and Shanks to alleviate the burning coil between your legs, but he gripped your thigh back, securing you to his back. “Stop squirming, are you trying to fall over?”

“Captain, ugh.” You buried your head in his back, panting from the unintentional pleasure, “Please slow down. Wait, please sto- Ah!” Suddenly the pressure built up to its peak. You squirmed and shook against your Captain’s back, fingers digging into his shoulders, unable to control your movements or your voice. With a final moan and gasp, you pushed yourself backward off of Shanks’ back onto the jungle floor.

Shanks circled back on his heels to find you curled up on the ground, “What are you doin-”

The realization hit him. He noted your shaking legs and rapid breaths and suddenly he became aware of a slightly damp spot on his back where your bodies had just been connected. He grappled with his own arousal seeing you like this, disheveled and glassy-eyed.

“God, Captain. I’m so sorry,” You covered your face with your hands, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I couldn’t stop myself.”

Shanks was kicking himself mentally as he watched you before him. Here you were feeling humiliated, embarrassed, and vulnerable; yet, there he was feeling himself getting hard at the sight. He’d wanted you for so long, wanted to make you his. Shanks licked his lips. He pushed down his indecent thoughts and turned his attention back to you. This wasn’t the time. You needed to get back to the ship, and right now that’s all that mattered.

In one swift movement, he scooped you up, placing a hand under your legs, carrying you in his arm. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck in embarrassment as he took off running. He was fast. You felt the wind on your face as he swiftly maneuvered through the trees at a great speed, his black coat flapping in the wind behind him. It took less than a minute for him to reach the ship. Shanks bounded onto the deck and managed to avoid the eyes of the returning crew. Reaching his room, he quickly ducked in and closed the door behind him, causing maps and papers to fly in all different directions.

Shanks walked with you in his arm over to his bed and laid you down as gently as he could. “Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he slipped his hand through your hair and gripped the back of your neck to force you to look at him. You looked up at him dazed, trying your best to concentrate on what he was telling you rather than the feeling of his hand on your neck. “You’re not dying. Those spores were an aphrodisiac,” He looked at you hard, making sure you understood what he was saying, “That’s why you’re feeling like this.”

You groaned and tried to hide your face out of embarrassment, but Shanks held you firm. “I’m going to get Hongo, he might be able to find some sort of sedative to help you work through this. You might have a shitty night, but I promise you’re going to be alright. I’ll be right back, ok?” He said softly.

Shanks lightly rubbed the back of your neck with his thumb before turning to leave, but you sat up and clutched his shirt to pull him back, “No! Please don’t. Don’t get Hongo.” You buried your head in his shirt, “I don’t want anyone seeing me… like this.”

Shanks’ gaze softened, “Y/N, Hongo is a professional, he’ll definitely be able to help.”

“No...I don’t…I can’t have anyone see me like this, please Captain. I-” your voice cracked, “I worked too hard to gain respect on this ship. Please. Don’t let anyone see me like this.”

Shanks began to disagree, “Hongo really would know the best way to deal with this, Y/N…” he stopped upon seeing the panic in your eyes. He sighed as he relented, “But, I’ll keep this between us for now. If that’s what you really want.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, though it was short lived. The aching between your legs was demanding attention, and you didn’t know how much longer you could restrain yourself from tending to it.

“Y/N.” You looked back up at Shanks, “If you really intend to deal with this on your own, the only way I know you can find relief is to stimulate yourself or… have sex.” Shanks kept your gaze as he spoke. “I’ll leave you my room. At least that way you can have some privacy while you deal with this. I’ll make sure nobody comes in here. You have my word.”

“Captain…” You found it hard to look him in the eye, you knew what you were about to ask wasn’t right, “Please. Don’t leave me.”

Shanks froze, for a moment he was speechless, he waited for you to meet his gaze and searched your eyes, “Y/N, do you really understand what you're asking right now?”

“I-” You doubled back over struggling to compose yourself, gripping Shanks silk sheets. Just imagining sleeping with your captain was enough to make your arousal unbearable. Despite your best judgment you shakily reached down and palmed in-between your legs, exhaling from the slight relief it gave you. You looked back up to Shanks, eyes pleading, “I can barely manage this right now. I can't do this alone. I'm begging you, please Shanks.”

Shanks stared at you, mouth agape and spellbound by the proposition. He could feel his mouth watering and his pants tighten. Shanks remembered just how miserable he had been with just the small dosage he’d taken, so he couldn’t even begin to imagine the turmoil that was currently wrecking your body. He balled his fist gathering the last bit of restraint he had and whispered, “It… wouldn’t be right of me to do this. You’re not in your right mind, you’d take anyone in your condition-”

“No. You’re wrong,” you were breathing heavily, choosing your words carefully, “I couldn’t bear it being anyone else. I want it to be you… Unless,” Your breath hitched, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know the answer to the question you were about to ask, “do you not… want me?”

This was the final straw for Shanks. You had broken the great Emperor who’d tried so desperately to do the right thing. His resolve crumbled at your words and he found himself lunging toward you. He pounced over you, throwing you back onto his mattress as his lips crashed onto yours. Your senses exploded with electricity by his contact and you moaned into his mouth, eagerly accepting more. It was utterly overwhelming and you couldn't control the noises that escaped from your mouth as Shanks pushed your hand away to tend to your clit himself, shoving his hand down your pants.

Shanks briefly separated your lips and breathed heavily trailing kisses along your cheek and to your forehead, “I’ll ask you… one more time,” he muttered between pecks, “Are you sure about this?” He pulled back to meet your eyes.

“Old man,” you huffed at him, “Won’t you shut up and put your mouth to good use for onc-”

Shanks didn’t let you finish your sentence and forced your mouth wider to deepen your kiss as he worked to slip your pants off. Once they were off you spread your legs obediently for him, pushing your hips against his hand for more friction. With your pants out of the way, Shanks had more freedom to explore your folds. His thumb kept a steady rhythm on your bud as his other fingers dove lower. He smiled as he found how soaked you were for him. He gathered copious amounts of slick from your pussy, and used it to tease you further. Shanks moved his mouth down your neck, leaving dark spots where he sucked and teased.

You could already feel that you were close to climax, you squirmed and whined for more. Shanks relented to your obvious request and slipped two fingers inside you. The gratifying release was instantaneous. You gripped Shanks’ arm as he massaged your walls through your orgasm. He reveled at just how seductive your body was and how your pussy gripped his fingers tightly.

Shanks lifted his head out from the crook of your neck and glanced over to you, but you were worlds away. His whole body reacted when he finally saw you in shambles from his touch. Tears streamed down your reddened face, unable to concentrate on anything besides how good you felt, you just focused on trying to catch your breath. It was all so overwhelming, Shanks’ touch, his kisses, and his scent all around you.

Shanks’ breath hitched as he let out a snide laugh, “Well, I guess that’s one way to shut you up, brat.”

Shanks pulled away from you for a moment and the sudden loss of contact made you whimper. Shanks scolded you, “Quiet now, it’s not good to be impatient, Y/N.” Shanks teased as he shook off his coat and lifted his shirt above his head, discarding it onto the floor. You watched, entranced by the way his muscles moved. His broad shoulders and massive tanned biceps patterned with scars. You felt the heat grow again as he turned back to you.

You pouted at Shanks’ words, “It’s a little difficult being patient when you're so horny you feel like you're gonna explode!” You huffed, frowning dramatically. “Being in a hot man’s bed and watching him strip is not helping my situation.”

You immediately regretted your words as you watched his brow rise and a wicked smile form on his face. “A “hot man,” you say. Is that what you think of me?”

“Don’t get cocky,” you spat back, staring him down. He glared back, not backing down from your challenge. You couldn’t take it anymore. You just wanted him.

With a mischievous smile, Shanks crawled back over to you, placing his knee strategically between your legs pushing into the wet spot of your underwear. He ground his leg as he reached his arm up to pull off your shirt, you lifted your arms to make it easier. Shanks sighed with bliss as your breasts came into view, no bra in sight.

You gasped as Shanks’ hand groped one of your breasts and his mouth found the other. You leaned back and interlaced your fingers in Shanks' hair stroking and pulling on the red strands. You couldn’t help but inhale his scent as he devoured you.

Shanks released his lips off of your nipple with a pop and moaned, “In all my years,” he said breathlessly, “I’ve never wished so much that I had both of my hands again.”

You couldn't help but laugh at this statement, it was just too ridiculous. Shanks eyed you curiously, “Are you laughing at your Captain? Or, are you going to start calling me by my name like you did before?” Shanks’ mouth moved lower down your body, kissing your stomach as he trailed down, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you called me ‘Shanks’ earlier. What made you think you could drop honorifics with your Captain like that?”

All you could do was watch him as his lips moved closer and closer to your core, you were speechless with anticipation. Shanks played with the fabric of your underwear, tracing the hem and circling lower towards your clit. You jumped from the sensation. “Though, I have to admit. I did like the sound of my name on your lips.” He continued to tease you with both his words and his movements.

“Please, just touch me already, I can’t-”

“Call me by my name again. Then I’ll consider helping you.” Shanks was enjoying this far too much. His eyes twinkled up at you as he grazed your hip bone with his fingertips.

You gave in immediately, your pride nowhere to be found, “Shanks. Please make me feel good. I’m begging, Shanks.”

“That’s more like it.” Shanks shoved your underwear aside and thumbed your clit roughly. You arched your back at the sudden contact and cried out in pleasure. Shanks was completely enthralled with what was happening in front of him, he couldn't take his eyes away from your glistening pussy, soaking wet, all for him. He wanted more and demanded, “Lift your hips.”

You immediately obeyed your captain and raised your hips. Shanks grabbed your underwear and ripped them off you. You leaned back with anticipation, but nothing came. You peered up at the red-haired man and you realized he was examining your panties. “Oh. Sorry, I know that old pair isn’t exactly sexy…” You explained self-consciously. Then suddenly, as if he was possessed, he shoved your soaked underwear into his face and inhaled deeply. Your mouth fell open at the sight. At last, when he lowered your panties from his face he stared at you intensely, his eyes drunk and lazy from your scent.

You watched mesmerized by the man in front of you as he tossed your underwear aside, gripped the back of your thigh with his arm, and shoved it back towards your head. Before you could react to the sudden change of position, Shanks plunged his tongue between your folds and lapped up your juices. You gripped his hair as he indulged in your aroused pussy. Shanks moaned into you as you tightened your grasp and pulled his hair slightly. He felt his hard-on twitch painfully, desperate and leaking with pre-cum. It didn’t take long before you were rutting into his face, chasing another high and coming undone for a third time by your captain.

As your spasms ceased, Shanks sat back up between your legs. You were mortified to see his face covered in your arousal. You sat up and began to apologize, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry let me just-” You raise your hand to wipe away the creamy slick from his face, only to have it shoved away and to be brought into another hungry kiss. The juices from Shanks’ mouth mixed in with your saliva as your tongues intertwined.

You were at Shanks’ disposal, at his mercy. You wanted him more than you’d ever wanted anyone. It wasn’t enough, not yet. You needed more. Reaching down, you pressed down on the protruding tent that was rising in Shanks’ pants. Shanks pulled away from you slightly and hissed at the contact. You continued to palm at his growing member and whispered, “I want this, Shanks. I want to make you feel good too.”

Shanks laughed weakly, “Well… if you ask me like that, who am I to say no?” He moved back to sit on his knees and fumbled with his belt and pants. You couldn’t help but smile at how he shakily tripped over his buckle with only one hand. You reached up and helped him by pulling his pants down. Although you knew from feeling him earlier, you were still taken aback by the sheer size of his cock as it nearly smacked you in the face.

You eagerly eyed his cock and looked up at Shanks hovering above you, “Can I…” you begin as you reach up to take him in your grip, “suck it?”

Shanks couldn’t help but let out a gasp as you came into contact with his dick. “If- that’s what you want. But only a little. I’m not confident that I’ll last long if yo-” Shanks was cut off by your tongue trailing up the side of his cock. A shiver ran up his spine, and he gripped your hair with his hand to hold on for dear life. You wanted to taste every part of him, you couldn’t hold back.

You weren’t particularly experienced, but somehow you knew exactly what to do for him. You teased his rosy tip with your tongue, licking circles before wrapping your lips around it. You savored the salty taste and traced your tongue along the veins running down him. There was no way you could take him in his entirety, but you pushed as far as your throat could allow. You only got a few pumps in before Shanks stopped you. “Alright. That’s enough.” He sat back down on his rear and motioned for you to come to him, “This isn’t about me.” Which was true, but he knew his words were just an excuse. He easily could have come from just your tongue if he wasn’t careful.

You got up on your knees as Shanks requested, and straddled him. His dick sat hard in between the two of you as he pulled you in for another breathtaking kiss while he used his free hand to continue to stretch you out. Finally satisfied with his prep, he broke the kiss and lifted your ass to hover over him. Shanks looked up at you and purred, “I’ll leave this part to you.” He wrapped his large hand around yours and guided it to his throbbing cock, “I don’t want to hurt you. So you need to go at your own pace.”

You hesitated slightly at his command, insecure about your skills. But whatever shyness you felt about taking the lead was quickly dismissed by your overflowing arousal. With one hand on Shanks’ shoulder to steady yourself and the other seizing his member, you raised your hips to accommodate his height. You rubbed the head of his cock on your dripping pussy and you both hissed from the contact. Once Shanks was properly lubed by your fluids, you held your breath and slowly lowered your hips onto the tip of his cock. The head alone stretched your inner walls with an intensely painful pleasure. You felt overwhelmed by his size and the electric current that emanated from its pressure. You intended to take him slowly and acclimate to his size, but your instincts took control. You wanted to feel full. You wanted to be completely consumed by him. You hastily realigned yourself, took a breath, and slammed your hips down, instantly taking him down to his base.

Neither of you could keep your voices contained. You let out a moan laced with the pain and pleasure of finally receiving Shanks in his entirety. The feeling was devastating. You gripped Shanks’ head pulling him to your chest as you entangled your fingers in his hair. Shanks cursed as he willed himself to stay in control, the pressure and sensation of your grip was mind-shattering. He wrapped his arm around your waist, gripping your skin to ground himself.

You didn't give him time to recover. You raised your hips again and slammed down hard against him, receiving a grunt from him. You felt drunk, unable to control your actions, you found yourself rocking into him at an uncontrollable pace. The pain was fading away and was replaced by unbelievable pleasure. You needed more, you needed him everywhere.

Shanks took advantage of your position above him, trailing kisses along your chest and leaving occasional bruise and bite mark. He used his tongue to tease and suck on your hard nipples. His hand wandered along the length of your back, grazing your spine with his fingertips leaving you gasping. Even the slightest touch on your body created an unbearable reaction, flooding your senses with bliss.

Shanks’ hand continued to explore your body, ticking the nape of your neck, pinching your nipples, and finally falling between your legs. He flicked and rubbed your clit as you rode him at an alarming pace. You felt yourself nearing another climax as the coil in your core began to tighten. You chased the high as you ground against him, willing yourself to continue despite feeling like you were on the brink of collapse.

Your climax hit you like a train, bringing earth-shattering pleasure throughout your body. You fell forward, pushing Shanks onto his back as the feeling overtook you, unable to continue. But Shanks wouldn't let you rest and you couldn’t contain your voice as Shanks cruelly thrusted up into you, compelling your senses to disintegrate as he fucked you through your peak.

Your ears deafened and rang as you laid exhausted against Shanks’ wide chest, still twitching on his dick. Shanks slowed his pace and you sat on him for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. You felt lighter than when you’d first entered Shanks’ room and your head was clearer, but the burning desire still lay unsatisfied. You tried to sit up to keep riding until your body was appeased, but found yourself collapsing again. Your legs were wobbly, unable to continue. “Shanks,” you whispered, “I think you’re going to have to take over from here. Please.”

Shanks was still reeling from your ruthless pace on his dick. He looked up at you, astonished that you still had the energy to keep going. “So demanding. You’re making me forget I’m the captain here.” Shanks sat up and reversed your positions, laying you flat on your back as he hovered over you, “But, I guess I’ll follow your command this time, Captain.”

Shanks pushed your legs back again and took a moment to examine your swollen pink pussy. It dripped and pulsed in anticipation, making it obvious that the mushroom was still wreaking havoc on your nerves. Shanks knew you wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer and decided to bring this to an end as soon as possible. He positioned himself above you and gripped his cock. Pushing it on you, he teased your clit with his tip for a moment before moving lower and watching in awe as you swallowed his thick cock to the brim of his balls.

You gripped the sheets around you tightly, this felt even deeper than before, he was reaching far down inside and rubbing all your sensitive spots. He sat there a moment breathing deep with his eyes closed, feeling the deepest corners of your pussy squeeze and warm him. He was only brought back to reality when you squirmed and whimpered underneath him. You needed more friction, more movement, more anything. Your body was not going to be as patient as Shanks was wanting.

Shanks opened his eyes and smirked down at you, “Don’t worry,” he gripped your thigh tightly with his hand leaving it stinging, “I’ll give you what you want.”

Without warning he lifted his hips, leaving his tip barely inside you, and plowed himself into you as deep and as hard as he could. You choked on your own breath as he pulled out and hammered down into you again, and again. He set an abusive pace, each stroke hitting your deepest nerves and causing waves of spine-tingling pleasure.

Your heightened senses multiplied every feeling, every touch, and every kiss. You felt as if your body was going to disintegrate underneath Shanks. The sensation in your body was unfamiliar and frightening and it was becoming too much. You put your hands on Shanks’ chest in a half-hearted attempt to slow him down, but his merciless tempo continued to wreck your body. Twitching from pleasure, you attempted again to turn your body to run from the feeling. It was all too intense, it was too good and you couldn’t take it anymore.

Before you could move away Shanks forced you back into position and entangled his hand with yours. His thrusts persisted as he leaned down his head next to yours and whispered gruffly into your ear, his slurring voice tickling your neck, “This is what you wanted, right? What you needed? Take it for me. Be a good girl for me.”

You were nearly comatose from the pleasure racking your body. Just from his words, you reached another climax, and Shanks fucked you through it once again. Your eyesight became hazy and you knew you needed to ground yourself. Out of desperation, one of your hands reached out to claw his back and the other clenched his hair. You opened your mouth and bit down hard on Shanks’ shoulder. Shanks hissed harshly as your teeth pierced his shoulder, yet he found himself smiling. Your disobedience had always been a turn-on for him. Excited from the pain, he moaned into your ear, “I’m- close. So close.”

“Come in me.” You cried out. You knew you sounded desperate, but you couldn’t help it. You wanted him to ruin you, “Please come in me, Shanks. Please… Please… Please,” tears ran down your cheeks and you lost all sense of self. All you knew was that you wanted Shanks, every last bit of him.

It took all of Shanks’ willpower not to fulfill your request.

Every last instinct in Shanks’ body willed him to release inside you, to truly make you his. But his reasoning prevailed. He knew that despite everything he could not do that to you in this state. So, with a few final harsh thrusts, Shanks pulled his cock out and released his warm come across your stomach.

Shanks collapsed next to you, panting. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this. Everything around him felt fuzzy as he came down from his orgasmic high. Once he finally caught his breath again, he turned over and reached for you.

You had passed out.

…

You woke with a jolt of pain as you turned over on your side in your sleep. Groaning, you shifted your body to try and stretch out your achy muscles. However, you realized that you couldn’t move. There was a weight laying across your abdomen… and your leg… and there was something pressed up against your back…

Your eyes snapped open.

You weren’t in your room, that was obvious. But where were you? You turned slightly to lay on your back, and looking down you saw an arm strewn across your stomach. Horrified, your eyes trailed up to see whose arm it was. It took everything in you not to scream as you realized you were entangled in your captain's sleepy limbs.

Your mind raced, desperate to remember what happened. You were exploring the island, Shanks came with you, you went into the cave and…

It all came flooding back.

You lay there in shock.

What was going to happen now? What if someone saw you? Would you have to leave the ship?

Your eyes wandered to where he lay, breathing deep in his slumber. He was shirtless and you couldn’t help but stare. Looking down you realized you weren’t wearing your own clothes, but rather an oversized off-white button-down shirt. It was obvious that Shanks lent you his own shirt. What a gentleman, you thought sarcastically as your body ached. But, you couldn’t help yourself, you turned your body to face him for a better look at the man before you, admiring his strong features.

As you savored the view in front of you, Shanks willed his body to sit as still as possible. He had woken up nearly an hour before you had and had spent the time watching you sleep, stroking your hair, and indulging in the feeling of sleeping next to you. He panicked when you shifted in your sleep and decided to pretend to be asleep. To his surprise, you hadn’t gotten up to leave, and he could feel your warm gaze on his face. He savored this morning, never wanting it to end.

The peaceful moment was ruined in an instant.

Shanks’ bedroom door flew open with a loud crash as none other than Benn Beckman strode in. You and Shanks’ eyes flew open and met each other in horror before turning your attention to the trespasser. Beckman didn’t get more than three steps into his Captain’s room when he realized what he stumbled in on.

There was a moment of silence, all three of you stared at each other, taking in the information in front of you.

Finally, you came to your senses and flung the sheets over yourself to hide from the embarrassment. You felt Shanks’ hand lay protectively on your back as you hid, “Beckman,” He spoke sharply, “you’d better have a good reason for barging into my room.”

Beckman gulped, “Definitely not a good enough reason for this.”

“Right. Beckman?”

“Yes?”

“Leave. Now.”

“Right. Don’t have to tell me twice.” Beckman turned to the door and stepped out of the room. You peeked out of the blankets and saw Beckman pause before closing the door behind him. He looked back at you and Shanks sternly, “I hope you two know what you’re doing.”

And with that, he closed the door.

You peeled back the covers and emerged next to Shanks. The two of you sat in silence for a minute, both pondering Beckman’s statement. He had a good point. What were you going to do now? Mushroom or not, the two of you crossed the boundary between captain and crewmate. Would you both ignore it and pretend nothing happened?

Your mind was spinning down all the possibilities that were laid out in front of you. Shanks thought your ears would start smoking soon, and he spoke first. Laying you back down on his arm he spoke two simple sentences that made you relax and settle down to sleep.

“Let’s worry about this tomorrow. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊 𓍊𓋼𓍊

𓍊𓋼𓍊 authors note: HUGE shout out to @nanpecan for editing this and helping me not sound illiterate

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jinx-xxed · 2 months ago

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Silver Chains

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; I’ve already watched Sinners 4 times and became obsessed so I fear it’s necessary for me to write a fic for Remmick at least once 🤕 this is my first time writing vampires and blood like this so please forgive me if it sucks 🙏 also if I’ve written anything in relation to the movie incorrectly please tell me so I can fix it! I have some other ideas brewing that I might write as well so I hope you enjoy :P!

Summary; A hunt gone awry leaves you caught by vampire hunters with the threat of the sun looming over you.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, vampire reader, vampirism, vampire hunters, blood and injury, death, feral behavior, you almost die, protective/possessive Remmick, very dependent relationship, bloodsucking, blood eating as kink, a lot of drool, he comes with it what can I say, feeding off Remmick, putting those claws and teeth to good use, eating out, fingering, piv sex, multiple orgasms, little bit of aftercare, soft Remmick

Wc; 7.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

The stench of blood assaults your nose.

It’s not the tantalizing, mouth-watering scent of someone else’s, no, it’s your own. It smells all sorts of wrong, impure and old with decay only to a thing like you.

Your blood runs down your skin in rivulets, staining it a deep, shiny red. Droplets fling from your body as you thrash and jerk against the heavy, silver chains that bind you to a thick and sturdy tree. The pain of the bark digging into your back is nothing compared to the agony of the chains burning your flesh away, steam rising from your injuries like you’d been placed on burning coals. It makes you wild, desperate to get away but with nowhere to go.

There’s no chance of you escaping the chains that sit against your neck, arms, waist, and legs in sets of two, even despite your struggling and the way you try to launch yourself from the tree with the slight leeway you have with your feet. Your unnerving eyes gleam in the moonlight, wide and frantic with fear, your bloodstained, jagged teeth showing in your open mouth. You feel as far from human as you possibly could be, snarling like an animal and chained just like one too.

The men watching you seem to think the same thing.

There’s five of them, two sit on their horses while the other three steadily pace the small clearing they have you in. God damn vampire hunters, armed to the teeth with everything they need to kill the likes of you. Silver bullets, silver chains, garlic and holy water, wooden stakes on their belts. It’s like they’re surrounded by a bubble of protection that you can’t penetrate, that’ll hurt you if they get too close—which isn’t that far off.

You curse yourself over and over. You and Remmick made damn sure to stay away from Choctaw land and yet here you are, caught and beaten. This is a new type of hunter, one you’d never had the misfortune of coming across before. They hunt in the dead of night, they enjoy watching you thrash and suffer, and their methods are cruel, meant to draw out your punishment.

You’ve never heard or seen a lick of them prior to tonight when you’d been ambushed and chased through the woods.

A gunshot had pierced your shoulder, one that brought more pain than your typical lead bullet. It had left you stumbling with a choked yell, steam rising from the hole in your shoulder blade. Then you’d heard the rustling in the underbrush, the hoots and hollers of men with a different kind of bloodlust than what you’re used to. Oh you’d ran, you’d ran as fast as your legs could carry you through the rough terrain of the forest, clearing fallen logs and scraping your bare arms on branches and thorns.

They’d caught you with another bullet to your thigh and a rope around your legs, pulling snug as soon as you tried to take another step and sending you thudding onto the hard ground. They’d wrapped you in silver soon after, seemingly experts on how to maneuver around you to avoid your snapping teeth and deadly nails. The first touch of the silver made your skin bubble and burn, a scream tearing out of your throat against your will. They’d dragged you crying for you don’t know how long behind their horses, all the way to the edge of the forest that overlooks a field that’s flat for as far as the eye can see.

You don’t know where they came from, they’re clearly unrelated to any other group or tribe of hunters, instead being just a gaggle of men who have dedicated their lives to eradicating yours. The history of your kind isn’t widely known, isn’t readily available to the public, so in your pain-addled brain you still wonder where they heard your tales, still wonder what else you might have to worry about if the knowledge is growing.

Your head thumps back, your breath coming ragged through your lungs. You shut your eyes tight for just a moment, trying to force away any more tears and clear your head. You haven’t felt pain like this in a long, long time, especially because Remmick has always been there to keep an eye on you, to keep you out of harms way. But not this time, not when you strayed too far and got too distracted to be vigilant about your surroundings. You’d been stupid and you know that, so part of you thinks you deserve this.

“Just stake me and be done.” You groan, ultimately defeated as the silver chains bite through your skin to the bone. It’s not like you want to die necessarily, you just want to be released from your own agony. You hate the way they’re toying with you, watching like wolves as you writhe and bleed.

One man shakes his head, his face shadowed by the cowboy hat he wears. “Nah, we like to watch y’all burn.” He looks to his watch and then up at the sky. “Ain’t gon’ be much longer now.”

You can’t help looking as well, your eyes finding the ever lightening night sky. The stars have been chased away, the moon laying itself to rest on the other side of the earth. You can feel the threat of the sun as the air steadily warms, as time tick, tick, ticks away. If you had to guess, you have about thirty minutes left at most before yellow rays peak over the horizon line.

You force a swallow down your torn throat, your breathing stutters as panic kicks up in your chest. You figure seeing the sun in your final moments won’t be the worst thing, it has been seven years after all, but nobody wants to be burned alive. You don’t want to feel your skin cook and be engulfed by flames, you don’t want your last memory to be pain. Tears fall down your bloodstained cheeks without you realizing, dripping to the forest floor as your head hangs.

Then there’s a rustle in the trees beyond that makes your attention snap back up. That’s when you sense it, when the tiny hairs on the back of your neck rise. It’s like a blanket of eerie quiet was laid over the clearing, quieting any crickets or frogs or birds and leaving just the whispers of an old wind through the trees. There’s a flash of red, the familiar smell of ancient blood and earth hitting your nostrils. It’s an instant comfort.

Your own reaction has caused the hunters to become alert, clutching their guns a little tighter and looking into the trees. They don’t even realize what’s happening before the screams start.

The first man goes down—the first is always the easiest. The horses startle in turn, rearing up with loud, shrill whinnies that make the men on their backs shout. One falls off his beast while the other gets dragged from the saddle with a yell. The horses shake their heads and shriek before crashing into the forest, leaving their riders behind to get their throats torn open.

You could sob in relief at seeing Remmick, his claws extended and his fangs bared. He looks feral, his hair wild and his eyes wide and gleaming bright red. Blood coats his chin and his neck, staining the collar of his button up as he rips into his victims as messily as he pleases. The two men left got enough of their senses to try and fire their guns, to use the weapons they so carefully prepared. One wields a wooden stake and runs at Remmick who grabs the man’s wrists to prevent the stake from being buried into his heart.

They grapple briefly before the man is being slammed onto the ground with a terrifying ease, something within his body cracking. Claws are raked across his neck in a quick slash, urgency spurred by the cock of a gun, the sound of the shot being fired making you flinch as it rings through the clearing. It misses its target by just a hair and it’s unable to reload fast enough to prevent Remmick from jumping on the final hunter. The man goes down with a choked scream and you hear the familiar sounds of flesh being devoured and blood being drained. There’s only a sickly silence that follows.

All of the spilled blood has thick strings of drool dripping from the corners of your mouth, your hunger flaring up from the lack of food you’d gotten tonight and the exhaustion of struggling against the hunters. You lean forward instinctively, desperate for a taste, before the silver chains binding your body remind you of where you are. You jolt back with a whimper, pain biting into you tenfold.

Remmick’s head snaps up, those sinister red eyes finding you as the bloodlust and blind rage fades, as he seems to remember you. He’s up in an instant, hurrying over and flinching away with a snarl when he realizes what’s wrapped around your body. “Shit.” He spits angrily, doing it again when he looks to the horizon and sees the slow infiltration of the oranges and yellows of morning into the purples and blues of night. Ten minutes left.

“Rem- Remmick- please, please get me out- it hurts, Remmick, please.” You beg, your babbling words warbling with pain and emotion. You don’t want to be left behind, not again, not by him. It’d hurt more than the searing kiss of the sun.

“I ain’t leavin’ you, darlin’.” He says with finality through gritted teeth, even as every instinctual thing inside him whispers to leave you here to die, to save himself and let you be engulfed in the flames of your mistake. He circles behind you, taking a deep breath before beginning to tug at the chains, hissing as they burn the calloused skin on his hands. Despite the pain, they steadily come undone, dropping to the ground around you so you can finally take in a gasping breath.

“I told you to stay with me, didn’t I? Would it kill ya to listen for once?” Remmick snaps as he undoes the last of the chains around your legs, leaving you to stumble forward. You’re charred and covered in wounds, but now your body can finally begin to regenerate. You look a mess and you feel like one too, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you struggle just to stay standing.

Before you can even get out an apology, he’s grabbing your wrist and tugging you with him. His own blood smears on your skin, the smell threatening to cloud your mind. “C’mon, or else we’ll both be fried.” His tone is low and angry and focused, telling you to save whatever you need to say for later.

You eagerly follow him, doing your best to keep up as you both run to outrace the rising warmth of morning. Panic hangs heavy around you, knowing how quickly those final minutes tick by, feeling the heat licking at your heels. Your skin threatens to begin sizzling again, sweat gleaming on your forms.

But by the grace of some cursed god, it turns out the hunters had dragged you not too far from where you and Remmick have made your home in a tiny little house hidden in the trees. It’s temporary, of course, and you’ll no doubt be moving again after tonight, but in the moment it’s like finding a blessed sanctuary in the midst of damnation. You both fly up the porch steps and burst into your home just as the sun clears the horizon line, its beams filtering through the trees while you slam the door in its face.

You fall to your knees instantly, panting and heaving like a dog as your deep injuries throb and ooze. Your whole body is shaking, weak from a pain and hunger you haven’t experienced before. You can feel the ache in your teeth, the drool that still runs down your chin despite how many times you’ve wiped it away.

Remmick is less fazed, simply shrugging off his sweat and blood soaked button up and tossing it aside, his suspenders falling loose around his hips and leaving him in his once white tank. The thin gold chain around his neck glints in the dim lighting, a twin to the gold band on his ring finger. He’s cut it close enough times in his long past that he’s familiar with the sensation of the sun at his back, but he’s been more careful with you. He makes sure to have you both fed and back with time to spare, but everything seemed to go wrong tonight. Though, he supposes the scare was probably good for you. Teach you not to wander off again.

He looks idly at his hands, at the blisters that are already beginning to fade. He’s always healed pretty fast, while you on the other hand aren’t as fortunate. The scent of your blood fills his nose, fills the room of the house. You’re both lucky his hunger was satiated earlier, otherwise he’d be on you like a leech. Even after he turned you, your blood stayed just as mouthwatering, just as delicious to something twisted inside of him. It proved to him that you were something different, something he’d been searching for without really knowing it.

“Are you upset with me?” You sniffle, quite pathetic really. But it’s been a long while since you’ve felt this much shame and embarrassment, and your body doesn’t quite know what to do with it besides force it out through tears.

Remmick stands in silence with his thoughts for a moment more before he sighs, defeated. “I ain’t angry with ya, sugar. Just worried, is all.” He turns, his steps marked by the too-soft thud of boots against hardwood. You see the toes of his shoes in your vision, but you still can’t make yourself lift your head, to look at him—so he does it for you. He crouches down, taking your face in his hand, making you meet his eyes. “Fuck, darlin’, they almost killed you.”

You can see the concern etched onto his eternally young face, the memory of seeing you chained in silver and presented like a sacrifice to the morning sun. You can’t even begin to understand the fear he’d felt; hearing all the commotion far off in the woods, hearing your screams and hoping he ran fast enough to reach you. He could smell the way your blood poured from your body, the way it burned under your confines. He’d sensed your terror too, your emotions sitting just behind his own like a second pair, locked together by a bond too ancient to be understood. You’d called out to him without your voice and he answered without a second thought.

Oh, how he’d raged seeing you against that tree, begging your captors for a quick death. Your face was covered in tears and blood, you’d looked to the horizon with a mixture of acceptance and panic, something he’s seen plenty of times before. He never should have let it happen, should have known to keep you closer, should have known you were still too young into this and got too excited over fresh meat. Hell, he didn’t even know how you managed to sneak off but he’d looked away for one damn minute and then you were gone. He’d been a fool to trust that you’d come back before a gunshot rang through the forest.

Killing those men was one of the easier things he’s done. Remmick barely even registered their deaths, the only thought in his mind being eliminating any threats to you and getting some food out of it as well. Their wards and stakes and silver bullets did nothing to deter him, they were weak and weightless—the opposite of the other hunters he’s come across, the ones with real strength. No, those men were new and ultimately inexperienced, and yet still stupidly dangerous.

He’d worry about them later. They’re dead and gone while you’re still bleeding and sniffling in front of him.

You lean into his touch like a cat, desperate for comfort. “Yer starvin’, ain’t ‘cha?” He murmurs, running his thumb along your cheek. He can see it clear as day in your gleaming eyes, the drool that won’t stop, and the way your wounds are refusing to close because you don’t have enough sustenance. You nod sadly, your head bowed while tears of frustration burn behind your eyelids. Remmick is quick to wipe them away. “Shh, don’t cry, sugar. You’ll be alright. You got food right here.”

You look at him with confusion before seeing the way he’s presented his thick forearm to you, underside up. Your eyes widen and you almost jump immediately at the opportunity, your teeth aching painfully and hunger howling within you. He nods his head towards his arm. “Go on, darlin’. You know I wouldn’t let ya go hungry.”

You sit up, acting on autopilot as you grip his arm in both of your hands, your drool dripping onto his skin before your teeth sink in. Blood immediately comes to the surface of the puncture wounds, and you take every drop you’re offered. The iron-sweet tang on your tongue instantly brings out your hunger tenfold, your fangs digging even deeper into the soft skin. Remmick makes a low noise, something between a groan and a grunt, watching with satisfaction as you take from him.

It’s rare when he lets you do this. Typically there’s enough food for the both of you, enough to keep you happily satiated until the next time that primordial hunger comes knocking. But sometimes there’s nights when the hunt fails, nights like tonight when the need to feast is bad enough to kill you if it’s left too long, when you need to rely on your last resort. However, no matter what, Remmick will never let his lady go hungry.

The age of Remmick’s blood blooms in your mouth, rich with an aftertaste of ancient iron and old, hidden stories. Only people like you would know how much you can learn from someone’s blood, from the life force of their body. The whispers of the lives they led running along your tongue as you feast, the emotions they held within hopes and dreams. It’s fascinating, and it was something Remmick was eager to show you when you were first turned, teaching you the crimson stained wonders of being what he is.

You relish the feeling of his blood flowing through you, working to heal the wounds littering your body. His other hand rests firmly on the back of your neck, his fingers occasionally squeezing and letting you feel the pricks of his claws that have begun to slide from their sheaths. He keeps you there, encouraging you to take and take and take.

You eventually pull back, twisting out of his hold on you and releasing his bloody arm with a pop. Your breath comes as pants through your open mouth, blood staining your lips and teeth, the gleam having returned to your eyes. Your bites have always been cleaner than Remmick’s, less gruesome and destructive, leaving his forearm with tiny wounds that will heal quickly. The sight of red beading from them still makes you salivate but it’s easier to reel yourself in now, dragging your hunger back by a leash around its neck to keep it from going rabid. It allows your fangs and claws to be more willing to retract, your mind no longer running in restless, desperate circles around the concept of food.

You notice the way Remmick has been looking at you, full of some type of reverence mixed with relief, you think. Relief at the fact you’re not a sniveling, bleeding mess on the floor anymore, your usual shine quickly coming back. Your wounds have stitched themselves back together, bone no longer showing and just the outermost layers still being torn and burnt. It makes you feel like you can breathe again, every movement free of the horrible agony.

“C’mere.” Remmick says, voice dropping a few levels as he continues staring at your blood stained mouth. He pulls you in before you even have the chance to sit up properly, your lips meeting in a clash of tongues and teeth. He groans when he tastes his own blood on you, practically taking it from you with the way he licks you. You gasp against him as he fully invades your space, your back hitting the wooden door so that there’s nowhere else to go, his body effectively caging you in. His hands easily roam over your form, knowing every inch and detail with the precision of a man who’s explored them a hundred times before.

Hands come to rest on your waist and before you know it, you’re being hoisted up with a startled noise that Remmick quickly swallows with a kiss. His muscled biceps flex as he easily holds you against him, your legs coming to wrap around his hips and your hands gripping at his shoulders for purchase. You’re carried upstairs with a newfound urgency, Remmick kicking open the bedroom door and roughly laying you onto the soft sheets of a bed that used to belong to somebody else—before you two took over, of course.

Blood, sweat, and dirt immediately stain the covers beneath you, smearing across the fabric as you move. It’s nothing new, this happens just about every time you return from an exhilarating hunt. You both barely ever have the foresight to wash off first before climbing into bed together. Remmick follows after you, your hands resting on either side of his face to draw him in, never wanting to be apart for too long. His fingers pull at the shirt that was tucked into your pants that are too big on you, the ones you always wear on a hunt that are now ruined by the burn marks of silver chains.

His touch is always just on the side of too cold, a consequence of being undead, the same one that you suffer from. It’s something you were quick to grow used to, along with the way his temperature fluctuates depending on how much fresh blood he has coursing through him. His ring bites like ice beneath your shirt as he eases it up and over your body, tossing it somewhere into a corner to be picked up later.

“Mm, Remmick..” you mumble, your hands coming up to run through his short black hair, his bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat. His bloody chain dangles from his sternum, hanging just above you like a taunt.

“I know, sugar.” He responds, feeling the way your legs rub together beneath him, your body quivering with anticipation. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck, past the spot where he bit you all those years ago. He licks away stains of the dried blood remaining from your sealed injuries, groaning like an animal at the taste that leaves him drooling.

Saliva smears across your skin on his way down your body, stopping briefly at your breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling it against his tongue and teasing it between his thankfully normal teeth as you arch into him, little breathy moans and gasps tumbling out of you. He envelops the other breast in his calloused hand, squeezing and rolling the soft flesh between his fingers. “So beautiful… so good fer me, sugar.” He murmurs against you, his nose nudging at the space between your breasts where more blood has dried. It doesn’t take long for him to clean it off.

He makes quick work of your pants, undoing the buttons deftly and lifting your hips to tug them free. His hands run along your thighs lovingly, goosebumps rising in his wake. He straightens, red eyes roving over your now exposed body with appreciation. Drool beads at the corners of his lips, steadily building and running down his chin while you smile at him.

“Pretty thing, all fer me.” Remmick says it like a confirmation and a vow, even though he needs none. There’s nothing that could separate you two besides a stake through the heart or the sun’s warmth. You gave yourself to him completely the day you let him bite you, let him take your life and forge it into something new, something unholy and damned.

“All yours.” You agree, stretching your arms above your head like a cat. You give him a sly grin. “Now stop teasing.”

His eyebrows shoot up, a deep chuckle leaving him, even as he hooks his fingers beneath your underwear and tugs it off. “Always impatient, huh?”

You hum as he kneels, his strong arms coming up to wrap around your thighs and settle them nicely on his wide shoulders. “I just know how good you feel. Can’t a girl be excited?”

Remmick smirks, huffing a laugh. “Shoot, I don’t see why not.”

His breath fans across your cunt, already wet and glistening with your arousal. The red in his eyes smolders like coals, burning brighter with his desire as he looks at you like you’re his next meal. He leans in, that first connection acting like lightning shooting through you, your body arching and mouth falling open. His tongue licks between your folds, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit where he toys with the bud, circling it with little flicks and pecks while you moan above him.

Remmick sucks your clit into his mouth, the rest of you immediately responding in turn as you jolt from the pleasure. He knows how to play you like his banjo, how to keep you easy and pliant while he works you to climax. He knows your body like it’s his own, the bond you share allowing him to hold a presence within you, to tell your emotions and thoughts. Most of all, he knows how you like to be licked, his tongue dipping into your hole as your noises raise a pitch.

“Remmick.. fuck-“ You moan, hands coming down to run through his hair, tugging after a particularly harsh kiss to your clit. He groans into your pussy, the sound reverberating through you as he swallows down your arousal with an eagerness he doesn’t even display during feedings. His drool makes your cunt shine, mixing with your slick to the point you don’t know where he ends and you begin.

He practically buries himself into your cunt, licking and kissing and taking whatever you have to offer. His hands are like vices on your thighs, the unmistakable tips of his claws occasionally pricking your skin as they again slide from their nail beds with his excitement. You can feel the way pleasure courses through you, tightening your muscles and creating a familiar knot in your lower abdomen that will steadily build until it’s ready to come loose. It won’t be long with the way Remmick eats you like he hasn’t had a meal in years.

His nose nudges at your clit, his tongue circling your hole before slipping inside, collecting the wetness you continually drip for him. You whine loudly, pulling harder at the black strands of his hair, your thighs attempting to clench around his head. “Shit- feels so good Rem, fuck-“ You curse, falling back against the pillows, chest heaving.

You writhe under his ministrations, his hands having to move up to your hips just to keep you still, his biceps flexing against your legs. He knows how close you are so he ramps it up, licking from your center to your clit and drawing it into his mouth, his brows furrowed in concentration. Your moans and whimpers are music to his ears, listening to the way you call his name with a breathy gasp as he makes you cum.

It crashes over you like a wave, that knot coming undone and pleasure wracking your body. Remmick drinks it all, not letting a single drop of it go to waste as his eyes burn red. He’s quick to slip a hand between your legs, two fingers sinking into the plush heat of your pussy, his claws sheathed just for now. He pumps them in and out while you ride through your orgasm, scissoring your gummy walls to stretch you even further. He doesn’t let up, even as you grab at him to try and get him off, the attention bordering on overstimulation. He continues to kiss at your clit all the while, his fingers and his mouth bringing you straight into another orgasm that has you seeing white.

Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, overly sensitive and leaving your legs twitching. Remmick licks you clean with as much care and diligence a man like him can muster, his fanged teeth occasionally scraping against you and making you shudder. His fingers slip out of your warmth covered in your cum, your walls fluttering and aching at the emptiness that you know won’t last long.

He finally releases your thighs, letting them fall from his shoulders as he lifts himself from between your legs. The lower half of his face is covered in a shiny mixture of drool, cum, and blood, making him look all sorts of a mess. You couldn’t care less, knowing that no matter what he does, it’s going to be a little messy—and you love that about him.

He slowly makes his way back up your body, kissing from your clavicle to your ribs, to your breasts, and then up the column of your neck before at last reaching your lips. You’re eager to kiss him, hands tugging at his shoulders to pull him in, keeping him as close as possible. You taste yourself on his tongue, along with a familiar iron tang that has your hunger flaring again. You pull away only to lick along his chin, eagerly collecting the bloody mixture until there’s none left. Your fangs released without you even realizing.

“Yer still hungry.” He says it as a statement rather than a question, seeing the blatant craving in your dazed eyes, feeling it within himself as if it was his own. You’ve tried to subdue it all this time, not wanting to take more than you’re allowed, but it still makes your stomach clench, your teeth ache. Your body is too weak to resist the pangs, still too busy patching up whatever damage can’t be seen externally. Remmick coos at you, “c’mon, s’okay. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

You begin to protest, your more human sensibility allowing guilt to take charge. “You already gave me-“

He shakes his head, silencing you. “Sugar, ya won’t last long if yer starvin’. I think I ate enough for the both of us anyhow.” You think back to all those dead hunters in that clearing, their bodies strewn along the forest floor and their blood splattered on the grass like paint. You can still smell their foreign iron-laced scents on Remmick, and it only serves to make you crave more. Drool falls down your chin, and he just smiles knowingly. His head tilts, the skin on his neck becoming taut as he bares it to you. “C’mon now.”

There’s a singular moment of hesitation, where you look into those red gleaming eyes of his for a type of confirmation, and all you find is that he’s just watching you expectantly. Well, if a meal’s going to be served to you on a silver platter like this, you’d do good to take it.

Your jaw goes slack, your teeth sharp and ready, before your body lunges up to latch onto his neck. As the first drops hit your tongue, he grunts, his form falling over yours while he wraps an arm swiftly around your waist so you can both fall back onto the bed. His other hand slams down next to your head while his blood fills your mouth and you gulp it down like there won’t be a tomorrow.

Being fed on is always jarring for Remmick, his body still not used to it after the centuries of him being the only one to feast. His neck is so much different than his arm, he realizes, something dangerous being set off within him this time as a result. But it turns out he’d do just about anything for you, so he makes himself ease into the sensation, even as his claws dig into the bedsheets and his fanged teeth grind together hard enough to shatter, the primal part of him fearing that, for once, he’s being preyed on.

“That’s it, sugar.” He says with a husky laugh. “Shit.”

Past the initial shock, it’s easy for the pain to shift into pleasure. It is quite erotic, really, the way he can feel his own blood coursing through your body. The little noises you make while you feed on him, the trickles of blood mixing with spit on your chin, your strength returning all because of him. It fills him with a twisted sense of pride, knowing that he’s the one satiating that bone deep hunger, knowing his blood is mixing with yours and becoming one inside you. “Take it all, darlin’, suck me dry.” He groans, the tips of his claws making little pinpricks in your sides as he holds onto you.

It’s almost involuntary, the way his hips rut against you, his cock straining in his pants and demanding attention. It has his hands fumbling between your bodies, eager to undo the thick buckle of his belt with a clink, the buttons of his trousers following after. You nearly choke on his blood when you feel his shaft rubbing between your folds, coating himself in the mixture of your cum and his drool. He does a few slow, experimental thrusts, not sinking in just yet but simply feeling you instead. It has you groaning against his neck, your teeth digging in deeper and greedily drinking at the ambrosia that is Remmick’s blood while he pants above you.

You release him with a sharp gasp when the head of his cock catches your entrance, at last pressing in with slippery ease. His moan is throaty and guttural, a shiver running through him at the way your walls draw him in, enveloping him in plush warmth. He sheathes himself completely and he stays with his hips flush to yours for just a moment, allowing himself to enjoy the initial pleasure. It amazes you how he never gets tired of it, even after his centuries of being alive and his years of fucking you.

You pull him back down with hands on either side of his face, encouraging him to kiss you. He does, of course, his mouth enveloping yours just as he begins to thrust, drawing almost completely from your cunt before slamming back in. His tongue roves over yours, licking away any remnants of his blood and swallowing down your moans. He pulls away with his chest heaving, a sharp groan falling from his open mouth, fangs on full display just beneath his lips.

There’s a sudden wetness against your collarbones that makes you jolt, looking down to see blood from Remmick’s neck splattered along your skin. The wound you’d bitten into him is still bleeding, droplets coming loose with his thrusts and the way he’s bent over you. He smirks, lifting two fingers and drawing them over the bite marks, collecting the blood smeared there. “Clean up yer mess, sugar.” He tells you between breathy pants, bringing his fingers to your mouth.

You take them eagerly, swirling the pads against your tongue, licking off every bit of blood and enjoying the earthly, metal taste. He watches you in awe, his eyes burning bright red in the dim lighting, full of adoration and reverence and desire. Your spit coats his fingers generously, leaving them shiny when you let go with a wet smack. He buries his head into the side of your neck with a disbelieving chuckle that quickly morphs into a moan, his hot breath fanning across your skin as your hands clutch at his bloodied white tank.

You use the opportunity to mouth at the bite on his throat like an animal, like a cat grooming its mate. You whine suddenly when he hits that spot at the top of your core, the one that has you keening and pleasure sparking like lightning beneath your skin. “Fu-fuck, Remmick-“ You mewl, claws digging into the expanse of his back, even through the tank. He growls appreciatively at the pain, at the red, angry lines undoubtedly rising along his skin and beading with blood.

Remmick nips hungrily at your neck, his hands digging harshly into your sides. He’s practically laid over top of you while he thrusts his cock deep into your throbbing pussy, keeping you as close as possible. There’s something possessive and raw about it, about the way he breathes you in, clutching at you desperately, biting you as if to prove you’re there.

“Ain’t never lettin’ you out of my sight again. Nearly fuckin’ lost ya.” He snarls with a groan, his claws digging in a little deeper at the memories of what happened just hours prior. Though your body no longer holds proof of it, he won’t forget anytime soon. He’ll chain you to him if he has to, just to make sure you’re safe.

“I- I know- I’m sorry-“ You say, moans stuttering with the way his hips slam into you, fueled by his declaration and the feral desires that howl a constant song within him. It’s not often that Remmick reveals any kind of vulnerability to you, instead letting you guess at it based on what you can gather from the bond you share. But it seems the very real idea of you bound in silver and burning brought it out of him, even if only a little.

You’re both nearing release, the pleasure burning in your core while his movements grow choppy and uneven. The noises he makes change, becoming breathy at the edges as his brows furrow, his nose nudging at your jaw. “Rem- Remmick- shit-“ You whine, feeling the way you’re so close to tumbling off the edge.

“I got ‘cha, sugar.” He says, voice rumbling right next to your ear. One hand comes between you, his calloused fingers finding your clit and swirling it in hurried circles, your mouth falling open and your eyes pinching shut as your muscles tense. His response is near instant, his free hand pinching your chin like a reminder, “nuh-uh, look at me, darlin’.”

You have no choice but to oblige him, meeting his gaze through tear stained lashes. You learned quickly how obsessed he is with seeing your face, seeing your eyes. No matter what position you’re in, he’ll make sure he can still see you or else you’ll find yourself flipped around to rectify it. You think he does it as a way to ground himself, a near impossible feat in an immortal body that’s hundreds of years old. You let him use you as an anchor, keeping him tethered here with you, two lonely souls finding company in one another.

It feels like all the breath gets knocked from your lungs as your third orgasm overtakes you. You whimper and whine and moan Remmick’s name, your hands scrabbling at him desperately. The way your cunt spasms around him makes him quick to follow after you with a loud curse, his cum hot as it paints your walls white, filling you to the brim with him. He rides out his high, emptying every last drop into you with small jerks of his hips and soft words, encouraging you to take it all.

“Fuck, sugar, yer somethin’ else.” Remmick pants, muscled chest heaving, straightening just a little to look at you in your fucked-out state. Hair wild, skin flushed, looking almost human if it weren’t for the unholy gleam in your eyes. There’s sticky trails of blood and spit all along your forms, remnants of both the hunt and your copulation. It’s made a further mess of the sheets below you, but quite frankly, you’re too tired to care.

He slowly pulls out with a groan, cum dribbling from your abused hole with his cock no longer there to keep you plugged full. You wince at the feeling, your energy spent and your body rightfully exhausted. As much as Remmick would love to keep you ruined with the reminders of what he did to you, he knows how you hate sleeping while sticky—and he needs you to be able to rest. He gently pries himself from you, even as you continuously try to wrap your arms around him again. “I’ll be right back, darlin’.” He promises, finally getting free despite your grumbling.

He gets a washcloth from the bathroom, wetting it with warm water before returning. Your arms are open for him, welcoming him back into your embrace so you can feel him against you, so you can feel complete. He holds you like something precious, cleans you like you’re made of delicate glass. He wipes the blood off with no issue, his appetite blissfully satiated for now, and he’s gentle between your legs, this routine so familiar that he could do it with his eyes closed. You go limp from his touch, your body pliant beneath him. He kisses you more than once, unable to help himself when you bask so nicely in the afterglow.

When he’s finished, Remmick tosses the cloth absently into a corner somewhere, followed by his bloody tank that joins his button up on the floor to be washed later. He then settles into a non-soiled part of the bed, sitting back against the headboard and easily pulling you on top of him. You simply follow wherever his hands want you to go, more than happy to relax in his lap with your head pressed to his bare chest and his thick arms enveloping you. His scent floods your nose—sweat, iron, dirt, and old leather, making you hum appreciatively.

“My sweet girl,” Remmick murmurs against your hair, his hand running along your back in soothing lines. He pulls one of the spare quilts free and wraps it around you and you nestle into its comfort, the heavy material soft against your bare skin. You nuzzle against Remmick, too tired to resist fully giving in to those base desires for warmth and safety, knowing he’ll give you exactly that. There’s a kiss pressed to your forehead. “Rest. Y’need it.”

“You’ll still be here?” You mumble, barely able to muster a sentence, eyes already beginning to shut. Sometimes there’s days when you need that extra confirmation, his promise that he won’t leave you behind, that he’ll still be waiting for you by the time you wake up. You feel his grip on you tighten, just for a moment.

“‘Course I will, sugar. I ain’t ever leavin’.”

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

Tags; @vesnaragast

#finally finished this wahoo!!!#I like his arms a lot I hope that shows #he’s taken over unfortunately #need that little weirdo #remmick #sinners remmick #remmick x reader #remmick smut #vampire fanfic

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mercvry-glow · 3 months ago

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love me hard love me soft

parings. jack abbot x nurse!reader

summary. jack abbot isn't a soft man, but he'll learn for you.

warnings. age gap (jack mid/late 40s, reader late 20s early 30s), typically pitt medical drama stuff, hospital setting, work place kind of relationship, they're pining but not kissing, other pitt characters, santos is mouthy, no use of (y/n), but let me know if there's more!

notes. the jack abbot grind is real and alive within me, I need so many more fics with him to come out. not much to say here, but since my requests are open I will mention I do try to keep my readers as nondescript as possible so every one can feel welcome here! please enjoy and any and all feedback is welcome, ask box is open as always!

wc. 1600+

It was no secret to the PTMC staff that Jack Abbot wasn’t a soft man. Rough around the edges and tough as nails, the ex army medic was as stoic as they come. He had been at the pitt for a number of years before you came around, working day by day to provide the best care he possibly could for the people that came to the ER.

It was a hard job, physically and mentally taxing on the body. Everybody kenw that, it was basically in the job description—but you made it easier on him, and everybody saw.

You, the nurse who had come in as a temp, were the saving grace of quite a few people in the pitt.

Jack included.

Sure, he was a hardass but he was genuine and kind if not a bit guarded.

“You could take it easier on some of the interns ya know,” you said, taking a seat next to Jack as he finished charting a few things on one of the computers at the nurses station.

He left a small scoff, not turning to look at you “the job isn’t easy, they can go to Robby if they want someone nicer.”

You gave him a knowing look, “You’re plenty nice, Jack. They just want to learn from you, being more approachable is what makes you a good teacher.”

Tough love was more Jack’s style, patience was yours.

“Jesus, woman. You come over here to lecture me or something? I’m sure someone needs their temperature checked.” That remark earned him a slap on the arm and an indignant scoff from you.

“Oh don’t be an asshole Jack! I’m just saying you’d go a lot farther with some of the younger staff if you could lighten up.” Sitting forward in your rolley chair you scooched closure to the older man, clearly invading his personal space as the two of you continued the conversation in a small moment of peace.

Jack leaned back in his chair just slightly, eyeing the way your knees bumped against his. You were always doing that—getting in close. Somehow you weren’t scared of what might be underneath all that steel-plated attitude.

He tilted his head toward you. “You know I don’t do well with ‘lightening up.’ That’s your department, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you warned, trying not to smile.

He smirked—just a twitch of the lips, but enough to count. “Then stop smiling every time I do.”

“Touché.”

There was a beat of quiet between you, broken only by the distant rattle of a gurney being rolled past and the soft clack of a keyboard a few feet away. It was almost peaceful. Almost.

“You really think I’m too hard on them?” he asked, voice lower this time—quieter, more honest.

You blinked. He rarely opened the door like that, even after years of working together, of being together.

“I think you’ve seen a lot of bad, Jack,” you replied, nudging his foot with yours under the desk. “And I think you want to make sure they’re ready for it. That’s not wrong. But… compassion doesn’t make you weak. And letting them in, letting me in, more doesn’t make you soft.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just stared at the monitor, lips pressed tight.

Finally, he said, “You made the Pitt better when you walked in here, you know that?”

You looked at him, surprised.

“That’s not me being soft,” he added gruffly. “That’s just the damn truth.”

You smiled again, leaning back with a little satisfied hum. “See? You can say nice things.”

He groaned and went back to typing. “Don’t get used to it.”

On the otherside of the pitt, a few of the interns (namely Whitaker and Santos) stood watching the interaction.

They couldn’t understand what was different about you, why Dr. Abbot let you get so close or why it even mattered to them.

“Is he actually smiling?” Whitaker whispered, brows furrowed like he was witnessing some kind of natural phenomenon.

Santos squinted, arms crossed over her black scrubs. “I think that was technically a smirk. But yeah. I’ve never seen him do that before. Not even when a guy walked in here with a screwdriver in his shoulder.”

Whitaker huffed. “What is it about her? Like… we’ve been here for weeks and the guy barely grunts at us outside of traumas.”

“She called him an asshole once,” Santos said, deadpan. “To his face.”

“That’s what I mean! Anyone else’d be doing triage on themselves. But her? He likes her.”

They both watched as you leaned in and nudged Jack’s arm again, laughing softly at something he said. The kind of sound you don’t really expect to hear in an ER.

Whitaker shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

“Maybe it’s because she doesn’t try too hard,” Santos mused. “She just… gets it. The pace, the patients. Him.”

Whitaker rolled his eyes. “You think it’s cute, don’t you?”

Santos shrugged, hiding a grin. “Kinda. But if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll say you’re lying.”

The brief quiet between didn’t last long—peace rarely did in the Pitt.

“Trauma incoming!” someone called from the double doors, and instantly, the mood shifted. The air snapped to attention. Everyone shot to their feet at the same time, chairs rolling and shuffles heard in unison.

“Room 3,” Dana’s voice rang out. “Ped versus auto, ETA three minutes. Bystander started compressions.”

You and Jack were already moving, grabbing gloves and snapping them on. He tossed you a look, his version of “ready?”—and you gave a nod back, adrenaline kicking into gear.

Inside the trauma bay, the gurney rolled in hard and fast. Blood, pressure alarms, panicked shouts. A young teen, unresponsive, with a cracked helmet and the visible deep red staining the right side of his jeans said it all.

Jack took command like always. “Let’s go! O2 on, wide bore IVs—Kid, stay with me.”

You moved into position while the interns filtered in along the wall, wide-eyed and stiff. Santos lingered a bit too close, trying to be helpful but also trying to see everything at once as per usual.

“Pressure’s dropping,” you called out, hand on the young man’s wrist. “Palpable at 70.”

Jack was already cutting through fabric, assessing the damage. “Get that line in now. If he’s got internal bleeding—”

Santos blurted, “Damn, this is intense. No wonder she’s always stuck to you like glue.”

You froze for a split second—so did Dana and everybody in the room—and Jack’s head snapped up like a missile had locked on.

“What did you just say?” His voice cut through the chaos like a ten blade.

Santos blinked, caught completely off guard. “Uh—I didn’t mean—”

“This is a trauma room, not a gossip circle,” Jack barked. “If you’re not focused on the patient, you can get the hell out.”

Silence fell for just a second before another doctore pushed past Santos to jump in on the line.

“Intern out,” Dana said firmly, giving Santos a nudge toward the door without even looking at her.

You didn’t have time to react, not really—not when a kid’s life was in your hands—but you felt Jack’s presence tighten beside you. All steel again. The warmth from earlier was gone. Not for you—but for everyone else.

And Santos would probably think twice before running her mouth in the middle of a trauma again.

The rest of the team worked in a tight rhythm, the energy electric and focused. Fluids in. Monitors up. The suction buzzed while Robby barked vitals. You stayed glued to the patient’s side, hands steady, voice low and soothing despite the pressure.

After what felt like forever but was only about ten minutes, the kid finally stabilized. Pressure creeping up. Oxygenation improved. No sign of a brain bleed on the portable.

It was a win, another save.

“Get him up to CT,” Jack instructed, peeling off bloodied gloves. “Page ortho for that femur. Kid’s gonna have a hell of a time if he wants to bike again,”

As the gurney rolled out, the noise faded into the hallway. The tension broke. Air was breathable again.

Jack leaned against the wall as people filed out, pinching the bridge of his nose. You stepped up beside him, just outside the room, letting the buzz of the hospital fill the gap.

“You alright?” you asked softly.

He gave a low grunt. “Would be better if I didn’t have interns running their mouths in the middle of a code.”

“She was probably just nervous,” you said gently, though you couldn’t begin to excuse Santos’s timing. “And maybe a little dumb.”

Jack snorted.

You nudged your elbow into his. “Things look different for everyone.”

His brow quirked, eyes flicking toward you. “That’s what that was?”

You smiled, giving a little shrug. “I mean… could be worse, right?”

Jack rolled his eyes but didn’t push you away, which for him might as well have been affection after what had just happened.

“I’ll talk to Santos,” you added. “She’s got so much potential. Just needs to learn when to shut up.”

“I’ll make Robby talk to her too,” Jack said quietly, voice low and a little rough around the edges. “But not today. She already got lucky once.”

You leaned your shoulder against the wall, mirroring his posture.

“Y’know, for what it’s worth…” you said, glancing sideways at him, “You were kind of amazing in there, as always.”

Jack looked at you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in those tired hazel eyes.

“Don’t start,” he warned lightly. “You’re already ruining my image.”

You smiled, placing a small kiss on his cheek. “Too late.”

mercvry-glow 2025

#the pitt #the pitt max #the pitt hbo #the pitt x reader #the pitt x you #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #jack abbott #jack abbott x reader #jack abbott x you #dr. jack abbot #dr. jack abbot x reader #dr. jack abbot x you #dr. jack abbott #dr. jack abbott x reader #dr. jack abbott x you #❥ - Jack Abbot

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joelsgoldrush · 11 months ago

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“give me all of that ultraviolence” | 2k

logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: You give Logan head for the first time.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ implied age gap. dirty talk. kind of inexperienced reader. oral sex (m receiving). face fucking. dom!logan. a tiny bit of degradation. he guides you through the whole experience (shocking!!! i know)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HI PALS!!! yes i'm alive and kicking. yes university is killing me. so recently i’ve been OBSESSED with this man and i needed to write something for him. english is not my first language and i may have made some mistakes (if you encounter any you can tell me, i won't mind it). comments/likes/reblogs would be highly appreciated. i've got sooooo many ideas to write and i'm finally getting my hands on them. i missed you all so fucking much. hope you enjoy this!!!

It’s common knowledge that all humans have needs. Try as you may, there’s a primitive side that you can’t spare yourself from. You, as everybody else, have urges.

“Logan,” you basically mewl his name, five letters that roll off your tongue with little effort. He doesn’t seem to acknowledge you, his kisses growing harsher on the delicate skin of your neck. Threading your fingers through his hair, you decide to try again, speaking a bit louder this time. “Logan, please.”

“What is it, honey?” he says, bitten lips still pressed to your pulse point. As you remain silent, he looks up at you, those big, brown eyes that you love so dearly almost completely dark now. “Do you want to call it a day?”

His question catches you off-guard. You cup his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones, suddenly afraid that he might pull away from you. “No! Not at all. That’s- that’s not what I want at all, actually.”

“What do you want, then? You can tell me,” he kisses you on the lips, softly at first. What starts as nothing more than a sweet kiss turns into a needier one, his hard on poking you through your shorts. “Come on. Tell me, baby. What does my sweet girl want?”

“I want to suck you off, Logan,” you whisper as you latch your mouth onto his, and you can feel how he visibly tenses beneath you. His breath hitches in his throat when you grind your hips. “I really need it.”

From the very beginning of your relationship, you had made things crystal clear: you didn’t have much experience on this territory. For a man his age, he was totally understanding. He knew you had your own times, that for him to take you to bed would take longer. Truth be told, Logan was willing to go to the ends of the world for you. There was no use in forcing anything.

At present, the bulge amid his legs becomes even more noticeable as you get off his lap, playing with his belt. “Can I?” you ask him, amazed at how straightforward you’re being.

Logan stares at you, so far panting, lust glowing in his eyes. “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters as he helps you undress him. His worn out jeans end up pooling around his ankles, and you locate yourself in between his legs.

You’re on your knees, hands folded in front of you. Suddenly, it hits you, the shame of it all. How badly you want him, how desperate you are to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue. How many nights you’ve dreamt of this moment, unable to stop that unbearable need of touching yourself every time you thought about pleasuring him.

That’s what you truly want. For him to use you.

“What’s wrong, princess? We’ve talked about this a lot of times. You know what to do,” you can’t help but stare at his crotch as you listen to him, and then he raises your chin with his finger, your lips parting unconsciously. You blink slowly at him, eyelashes fluttering together. At last, he seems to understand what you’re trying to tell him, and he raises his eyebrows, that cocky grin of his taking place where it belongs. “You want me to guide you, don’t you? Want me to tell you what to do? Know you like it when I go a bit off the rails.”

You moan at his words, squeezing your eyes shut and nuzzling your cheek up against his palm. Slick gathers in your panties as you push your thighs together. “Please. Tell me what to do.”

“Take it out,” he instructs you, and you do as you’re told. Grabbing him by the base, you pull his cock out of his briefs. He twitches in your hand, and he’s so, so incredibly big.

You stroke him once, testing the feeling. This you know how to do. You’ve given him hand jobs millions of times, although this one feels particularly different from the others.

He takes hold of your fist, applying a bit of pressure. “I’m sorry, baby. I think you got it all wrong. I’m the one who makes the calls here, okay?” he grunts, his brows knitted, and you only nod, salivating at the sight of his cock already leaking precum at the tip. Logan licks his lips, curling his hand around yours. “You do as I say. Now, stroke me. Nice. And. Slow,” he punctuates each of his words by moving both your hand and his in unison around his length. “That’s it, darling. You just need someone to boss you around from time to time, ain’t I right?”

One thing to know about Logan: he’s so full of himself on a daily basis, but he just gets worse in bed.

“My mouth,” you hover your lips over the head of his cock, all shiny and soft. He has let you go, both of his arms now flexed behind his head, as if he were appreciating how pathetic you must look on your knees, begging for him to allow you to taste him. “Let me.”

“Not yet,” his hips follow your tormenting pace, seeking the warmth that your skin radiates. He grits his teeth, biting his lower lip. You’ve no idea how a man so strong can become putty in your hands like this. “Greedy girl. I’m beginning to think you’ve set me up. Only a slut would get so worked up about having a cock in her mouth. What happened to my innocent girl? Gone with the wind, huh?”

“Please, Lo. I need it so bad,” you are whining, peppering his thighs with kisses. You inhale his musky scent, getting dizzy. “Give it to me. I’ll be good.”

Out of nowhere, Logan grabs a handful of your hair, forcing you to arch your back. He scrutinizes your face, studying your blissed out demeanor. “I don’t doubt that. I’m sure you’ll be good. Otherwise, we’ll keep on trying. We have all night, and you have a good memory, just need to put it to use,” as he taps your lower lip with his tip, you catch him smirking. He repeats that same motion until he has you shivering from the excitement of being stuffed. ”Show me how much you need it. Go easy on it at first, okay? Don’t want you choking beforehand.”

You’re more than happy to comply.

Your tongue darts out to lick at his head, enveloping it between your lips. The salty taste of his precum invades your tastebuds, and you moan as you trace the veins of his cock with the pad of your thumb. “Tastes so good, Lo,” your voice sounds distant, almost unrecognizable to your own ears.

“I know, bub. Such a nice fucking mouth, can’t believe you’ve never done this before. I guess you’re a natural,” shaky fingers place a strand of hair behind your ears, patting your head as if you were a dog in heat. “Do you feel like bobbing your head a little?” he asks you, and you prepare yourself, attaching your mouth to his head once again. “Good. That’s good.”

With that being said, Logan fists your hair once again and shoves your face down, his hard cock tickling your throat. Your whines and his rapid breaths are the only sounds to be heard in your bedroom. He grins as he takes in the sight of you. “Oh, sweetheart. You look so beautiful with your mouth stretched around me,” his index finger taps your cheek and he feels the outline of his own cock. “You know I can smell you, right? You’re fucking soaked, baby. Think you’ll leave a stain on the carpet? You’d clean it off with your tongue, wouldn’t you?”

You have no idea how he’s coming up with these things, but you’re far from annoyed. In fact, you’ve never been this wet. Your underwear must be ruined at this point, and you wish Logan would tell you to touch yourself.

After some minutes of bobbing your head up and down, he pulls you off his cock and you breathe through your mouth for the first time in a while. As you gasp for air, Logan kisses you, tasting himself. He massages the back of your neck, his cock throbbing between the two of you. “You tired?”

Your glossy eyes widen. Shaking your head, you go for his balls this time, sucking one of them while toying with the other. Logan buries his hands in your hair for what must be the hundredth time in the night, unable to stop himself. “F-fuck, that’s it. A pretty girl like you just gets what she needs,” he praises you, and you return to his length, taking as many inches as you can without hurting yourself. Tears shimmer in your eyes, yet you can’t bring yourself to care about that detail. You’re far too focused on Logan’s grunts and growls. “Keep that up and I’ll come. You heard me? You’re gonna make me fucking come, bub.”

His words ignite a fire inside you. You use your hands, your mouth, everything that you have to pleasure him. He’s getting closer and closer, thighs shaking when you pay special attention to his tip. Logan responds to each of your movements, and as you feel every coherent thought fly out the window, you try to take him all the way down your throat, breathing through your nose and swallowing around him. He cants his hips up, brutally fucking your mouth. Like a dog without a leash, Logan seems to get lost in the warmth that envelopes his cock, chasing his own release. “You’re such a good girl. My good girl. Nobody will fuck this mouth ever again. I’ll ruin you for any pathetic guy that tries to get in your pants. You’re fucking mine, darling. Oh, f-fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-”

You’re met with his happy trail once he spills his hot load inside your mouth. He keeps you trapped there, his cock twitching and spamming through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You don’t think twice and swallow what he’s giving you. Some of his cum slips from your lips, falling directly onto the carpet. Even Logan seems surprised when he doesn’t stop coming.

He helps you stand up after a moment, kissing you as soon as he gets the chance. He licks into your mouth, squeezing the flesh of your hips. Logan lifts his eyebrows, relishing how cock-drunk you must look. “I think you nearly killed me. And that’s a lot to say coming from someone who cannot fucking die.”

You plaster a smile on your face, hugging his wide frame. “So, was I okay?”

His jaw goes slack, and he lowers his head to capture your lips in another kiss. “You were fantastic. I could easily get hard again just from thinking about it,” his fingers trace the buttons of your shirt, tugging at the fabric of it. “What if you let me focus on yourself for a while? You’ve already done enough, baby. Let me take care of you,” he rubs his hands on your thighs, reaching for your drenched panties. “Perhaps we could try something else today. That pussy’s begging to be fucked.”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

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iluvbuckets · 1 month ago

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take it like a taker

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: you and paige are freaked tf out

warnings: a little plot but its still about sex, lots of dirty talk (i don't like quiet sex sue me), oral, strap! yay!, choking, praise, light degradation, whimpering, begging, overstimulation, lots of edging, crying, sub!paige (hehehe), she's kind of a brat but a whiny one, mentions of her being a munch, let me know if i missed anything lol

word count: 4.6k

notes: here's the pride special!! sorry it took so long! deadass don't think i have never written anything this fucking filthy ever in my 11 years of writing fanfics (that makes me sound old i just started way too young). happy pride month <3

✷✷✷

you saw the edits, the comments, the fanfiction. you read what her fans said about her, what they assumed–that she’s probably a player, dominant, takes the lead. she knew exactly what to say and how to say it every time, especially in bed. that she was the one giving, whispering praise in your ear as she touched you, slamming the strap into you, giving you head until you couldn’t take it anymore.

god, they couldn’t be more wrong.

and you loved it.

there was something so thrilling about the secrecy of it all. the stark contrast of the way she presented herself versus the way she really was behind closed doors. it made your possessive tendencies thrive. you were not only the only one who could hear her desperate begging for more, her loud moans when you hit the right spot, the whimpers when you touched her at all, the squirming when you whisper something dirty in her ear in public, the occasional brattiness when she was in a sour mood that she would absolutely be punished for, but you were the only one who even knew about it at all.

you let her play the part in public. you let her confidence ooze easily from her lips like it was second nature, without any argument. you let her lead conversations with ease. you let her put her hands on the small of your back to guide you, on your waist when you were talking to people, or on your thigh when you were sitting down together. you let her pick up checks when you went out to eat or went shopping, and open your doors like she was the one in charge.

she could do all these things when everyone was watching because it wouldn’t change that she would be on her knees for you, begging for you to touch her or to let her touch you, as soon as you got home. and there was no place she’d rather be.

“i want you to sit on my face,” she whispered, a hand covering her mouth so no one could try to read her lips.

you wanted to be shocked, you really did, but this was something paige always did when you two were in public, especially something that meant you couldn’t be home right away. she would say she thinks it’s funny to see you squirm with impatience, but you knew it was because she liked the aftermath. she liked how right when you would walk through the door, you would throw her against the wall and whisper something degrading in her ear because she just couldn’t wait.

especially tonight. while you two were getting ready and you were standing in front of the mirror trying to smooth out any wrinkles, she came up behind you to put her hands on your hips and press your bodies together. she muttered something in your ear about how she needed to fuck you right there, how she was throbbing and soaked just seeing you in that dress. how she wanted you to look in the mirror as she ate you out so you could see how pretty you looked. you debated giving her what she wanted, but you knew you couldn’t run late, because when paige gave you head, it was never quick. she was always begging for just one more, just let me see you come one more time.

well, you did kind of give her what she wanted. if dropping to your knees and eating her pussy until she was about to come, then pulling away, buttoning her pants back up, and telling her you better get going would count as what she wanted.

she patted your thigh lightly, then settled her fingers barely beneath the fabric of the dress you were wearing. you were at a somewhat fancy dinner with the dallas wings players, staff, and their significant others to celebrate the upcoming season–the regular season that started on friday, three days from then.

you already knew you were going to fuck her when you got home, despite anything she was doing to make sure you finished the job from earlier. she looked so damn good, how could you not? she let you curl her hair tonight in soft waves, and she picked out a black short-sleeve button up with a pair of nicer black cargo pants, and sneakers, of course. you loved it when she wore all black, and she knew that.

“now?” you ask quietly, reaching forward to take a sip of your water without even sparing her a glance.

she was being bratty like this on purpose, you knew it. she was probably still aching and wet in her pants, desperate for you to take her home and finish what you started. she had been shifting in her seat all night, constantly crossing and uncrossing her legs, trying to stay composed.

her eyes raked over you slowly, and not at all subtly, taking in the way you looked in that dress. it was black and fitted to your body, the neck low enough in a v to expose your cleavage. you had your straightened hair pushed behind your shoulders, too, meaning it was all on display. to anyone at the table, they probably thought she was spending extra time staring at your chest. maybe she did for a second, but she couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on the necklace dangling from your neck.

she had randomly gifted it to you when you moved to dallas. she had muttered something about how practice was going to run long that day, but then came home with a small bag from a jewelry store. it was a dainty gold chain, and it was supposed to be a name necklace with the name written in cursive, but she had decided to get five on it instead. it was the perfect mix of possession and privacy for you, and you loved it.

“mhm,” she hummed. then she leaned toward you to whisper in your ear again, “you taste better than anything on this menu.”

your head quickly whipped to the side to give her a look, so quickly that naylssa and dijonai–who were sitting across from you–noticed. she barely had time to move her head, so your noses brushed when you did so. you glanced at the two teammates across the table who had returned their attention back to whoever was talking.

“yeah?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at her, almost in a challenging way, but she didn’t react. she had a big, goofy grin like she was proud of what she was doing and your reaction. if you weren’t in public, you probably would’ve grabbed her by the throat.

she nodded smugly, her fingers squeezing your thigh slightly. “would do anything to fuck you right now.”

“keep running your mouth,” you warned, not even whispering. if any of her teammates heard you, they chose to ignore it. you couldn’t blame them, you probably looked like you were fighting.

“what are you gonna do about it?” she asks boldly, her grin never faltering. “because that’s not the only thing i’m gonna do w’it."

you leaned toward her slowly, your expression unreadable. “wait until we get home,” you whispered, making sure your lips touched her ear as your words spilled out.

she shuddered at the contact and her grin faltered slightly at the words, making you smirk. you placed a hand high on her thigh, squeezing tightly for a moment, almost as another warning. she clenched her thighs at the feeling, just happy to be touched by you even if it wasn’t exactly where she wanted it.

she didn’t dare to run her mouth anymore after that, knowing that it could jeopardize her ability to finally receive the orgasm she had been denied of earlier. you were a little disappointed by her obedience, though. you almost wanted her to keep going, so you didn’t feel bad about your intention to only give her one, maybe two, orgasms tonight after spending hours teasing her. that was something paige wasn’t used to. you were more into overstimulating her than edging her, loving the way she would whine beneath you because it just felt so good.

when you finally walked in the door to your apartment, you slipped off your shoes and walked down the hall to your bedroom without a word. she was stunned, standing there watching you go as she shut the door. usually in moments like this, you wouldn’t waste any time slamming her against the wall or the door, or maybe even pushing her down on the couch or onto her knees on the floor. she swallowed thickly, but followed you back anyway.

paige stood in the doorway, nervously fidgeting with her fingers. you moved around the room for a few seconds, pretending to look for something–pretending you didn’t see her. you quickly grabbed a hair tie from the dresser and turned to face her. her eyes shifted down to your hands then back up to your face, shooting you a questioning, but knowing look. she knew why you wanted the hair tie, just not why you were grabbing it right now.

you smiled innocently as you walked over to her, slow and deliberate, and stood in front of her. she didn’t break her eye contact with you as you did so. you reached your hands up to gather her hair into a messy low bun, making sure that it didn’t look too crazy or have too many bumps. then, you smoothed your hands over her shoulders, then her chest down to her stomach, allowing your fingers to fumble with the buttons from the bottom up.

“you’ve been such a brat tonight,” you said casually, slipping her shirt off her frame. “i don’t know if you deserve me sitting on your face, baby.”

her eyes widened at your words, her hands coming up to grab your waist as yours slipped under her sports bra. “no, i do. please, i’ll be good. promise.”

you laughed gently at her words, using your thumbs to rub circles around her nipples. she whimpered at your touch, leaning forward to chase your lips in a kiss. which you allowed her to. she kissed you with intense, heated passion that you’re not sure you’ve ever felt from her before. it was something so desperate, telling you she was so ready to come, you’re not even sure you wanted to tease her anymore. she fisted your dress where her hands were settled, trying to pull you closer.

paige shouldn’t have expected you to let her. she knows better than that. you pulled away, well as much as you could with the way she was gripping your dress. her eyes didn’t leave your lips, though, her lips parted and breathing ragged as she waited for you to lean back in. you contemplated taking her bra off, but you decided to lower your hands to her pants instead–where there was a waistband to a pair of nike pros sticking out. you traced over the words with your pointer finger, making her sigh from her nose.

“this for me?” you asked, tilting your head. the answer, you knew, was a mix between yes and no. yes, because she knew how hot you thought it was when you could see the logo poking out of her sweatpants, cargos, shorts, whatever. no, because she was more comfortable with them no matter what.

“everything i do is for you,” she replied quickly and breathlessly, like she didn’t even think before saying it–like an automatic response.

“is that right?” you chuckled, feeling your heart melt a little bit.

to reward her for saying something so sweet, you grabbed her wrists to gently pry her hands off your dress, which she did immediately without much of a fight. you sunk to your knees slowly, keeping your eyes trained on hers. her pupils were blown with lust as she watched you, one of her hands rising to rest on the doorframe next to her. you used both of your hands to hook in the waistband of her nike pros to swiftly pull them and her pants down in one smooth motion, but left her underwear on. she carefully stepped out of her pants, mindlessly kicking them into the hallway behind her.

you leaned forward to place kisses along the waistband of her underwear, sucking a hickey into the skin above it. her hips snapped forward against their will, the sensitivity from her denied orgasm really showing itself. you smiled mischievously, moving down to mouth over her clit that pulsing with desire through the fabric.

“fuck,” she breathed at the feeling. her unoccupied hand moved to rest on the back of your head, subconsciously pushing you closer. you considered mentioning it, punishing her for pushing you, but you decided that wasn’t as fun. “please, make me come. please, i’ve been waiting all night.”

you laughed against her, sending a vibration throughout her entire body that had her moaning softly, but you didn’t answer. it was too early to spoil the surprise. you traced your fingers over her entrance, feeling the wet spot. you had expected her to be wet, but not that wet. you almost pulled away to ask about it but she beat you to it. it was like she could read your mind.

“so wet for you,” she whined, “you look so damn good tonight. i can’t help it, wanna give you head so fucking bad. want you to sit on my face until i can’t breathe.”

“aw, paige,” you cooed, like you were going to give her sweet words of praise, pushing her underwear to the side, “you’re such a slut, you know that? you probably would’ve gotten on your knees right there under the table if i asked.”

you didn’t give her time to reply before your mouth was on her. the gasp that left her lips when you licked a flat stripe from her soaked entrance to her clit was so violent, you were surprised she didn’t cough afterwards. her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling harder than she probably meant to, but you didn’t mind. you actually loved it when she was so lost in the moment that she didn’t realize she was borderline ripping your hair out.

when you licked through her folds and over clit slowly, her hips jolted forward and she continued to try to grind it out, but you knew it probably wasn’t on purpose. she was always so sensitive anyway, and the denial from earlier definitely made it worse.

you wrapped your lips around her clit and sucked gently, using your tongue to trace circles around the bud after at a faster pace. her stomach would not stop flexing, almost sending her hunching over above you, but you didn’t let up.

“shit. oh, fuck,” she moaned, her eyes pinching shut at the feeling. she pressed her hips forward, chasing the orgasm building in her stomach. “‘m gonna come already. feels too good”

even though you appreciated the warning, you already knew–not that it was hard to tell. she was making such pretty sounds, though, it took some mild internal convincing to pull yourself away this time.

“no, no!” she cried out, her hand trying to push your head back where she wanted it. “goddammit, please don’t stop.”

“come on, baby. you didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” you asked innocently. you flicked her clit playfully causing her to flinch and her body to twitch. she threw her head back in frustration, trying not to groan out loud because she knew it would only prolong the release she is desperately waiting for.

you quickly jumped to your feet, leaning forward to crash your lips together again. she kissed you back hard, pouring every bit of anger and frustration she was feeling into it so hopefully you would get the point and finally give her what she wanted. without looking, you used both hands to shove her underwear down a little bit, and she got the hint. she hastily removed them without disconnecting your lips, throwing them behind you onto the floor somewhere. you pulled away, grabbing her wrist to pull her into the room. then spun her around so you could place your hands flat on her chest and push her onto the bed.

she propped herself up on her elbows, expecting to watch you put your mouth on her again or maybe even sit on her face finally, but you didn’t. instead, you hastily pulled off your dress and underwear. you ran your palms up her thighs gently while leaning over her body, still standing next to the bed, trying to be soothing and comforting as you decided what you wanted to do next. you couldn’t decide if you wanted to use your mouth, your fingers, your thigh–god, the possibilities were endless for making her squirm beneath you.

then, an idea popped into your head.

“can i use the strap on you?” you asked.

her eyebrows rose in surprise at your words. it wasn’t that either of you hated it per se, but it was something that was only brought out for special occasions, you would say. and on those rare occasions, you were usually the one receiving. still, she nodded slowly.

she stared as you bent down next to the bed to pull it out of the bottom drawer of the nightstand and strap on the harness. her pussy aching and dripping with desire, and she had an overwhelming urge to touch herself to try to relieve it. she didn’t, though; she wasn’t feeling quite as bratty anymore now that she’s had two orgasms ripped away from her and would probably have a few more ripped away if she kept it up too.

without wasting any time teasing, you touched the silicone to her entrance, covering it with her slick as lube. she whimpered at the feeling, leaning forward to watch. you grabbed one of her legs behind her knee to bend it, giving you a better angle as you pushed the tip in ever so slightly. her face contorted at the sudden stretch, pussy clenching, and you made sure to keep your eyes trained on her face to gauge her expressions. you almost had the urge to tell her to look you in the eyes, but it was so fucking hot that she wanted to watch, honestly.

“you okay?” you asked gently, brushing your fingers over her stomach.

“mhm,” she hummed, biting her bottom lip.

you slowly rolled your hips to bottom out in one motion. one of her hands flew to press against your stomach, not expecting you to go so fast.

“you can take it,” you said, grabbing her wrist and lacing your fingers together. you pressed her hand above her head against the bed, making her lie all the way down. the arm that she was using to pop herself up was now moving so she could rest her hand on your hip lightly.

you rolled your hips again, pulling all the way out and slowly pushing back in. her eyes rolled to the back of her head at the feeling and a loud moan slipped from her lips before she could stop it. the sound made you smile, knowing that she was in pure bliss because of you. her mouth stayed parted, like she was making sounds, but nothing was coming out. your hips fell into a steady rhythm, not slow, but not fast either–just enough to let her feel all of it.

“fuck, paige,” you moaned. “you look so pretty like this. taking all of me like a good girl.”

her hips bucked slightly, a high-pitched moan ripping from her throat. you accidentally snapped your hips forward roughly from the sound, causing her to gasp, her free hand pressing against your stomach again. you released the grip your hand had on her leg, moving to use your thumb to circle her clit.

“oh my god,” she moaned, her hand that was resting on your hip flying to grip your bicep tightly. “shit, i’m–fuck.”

“i know,” you said softly, “tell me how good it feels.”

“i-i can’t–please, let me–” she interrupted herself with a moan, her pussy clenching tightly around the silicone to try to will her orgasm away that was quickly approaching. you pulled all the way out, watching the way she clenched around nothing as she cried out from frustration beneath you. “fuck! please, let me come. i’m begging for it, please. i want it so bad.”

“you asked for this, baby,” you chuckled. honestly, you did feel a little bad about it while watching her cry out, but not bad enough to stop.

“i’m sorry,” she said, looking up to meet your eyes through her lashes. “’m sorry. i’ll be so good for you. just–please, let me come.”

without warning, you slammed the silicone back into her. her legs clenched from the unexpected fullness, her hand that was intertwined with yours tightening with a death grip on your fingers, and her eyes pinched shut tightly as her head came forward.

“this is what you wanted, right?” you asked quietly, using the hand that was on her clit to grip her throat and push her head back against the bed.

her free hand loosened from your bicep to fall to your wrist, gripping it but not pulling it off. she would never admit it otherwise, but she loved it when you choked her like this. you didn’t do it very often, so she savored it when you did. despite your grip, she managed to nod at your words, not trusting herself to speak from how foggy her brain felt in pleasure.

you watched as tears slipped from her eyes when you sped up your thrusts, but she didn’t say anything. you weren’t even sure if she knew she was crying, either. her stomach and pussy clenched, and you almost had the urge to let her come because of her pure desperation. her orgasm was approaching much, much quicker than before, after the first three denied orgasms.

of course, you completely pulled out when her hips bucked up to chase her fourth. she cried out a choked sob, causing you to loosen the grip on her throat so she could breathe, and your other hand loosening on hers subconsciously. her hands flew to her face to cover it from her frustration as she sobbed.

“paige,” you said, gently caressing her sides with your hands. sure, you had made her cry during sex before, but never like this. “do you want to stop?”

“no,” she shook her head, voice muffled from her hands.

“are you sure?” you asked, not really convinced because of her crying.

“yes. please, keep going,” she said with an exasperated tone, “i want to come.”

nodding, not verbally replying, you took the harness off and haphazardly threw it to the side. you reached up to take her hands off her face, expecting her to fight you, but she didn’t. her face was streaked with tears, her mascara running down her cheeks. you leaned forward to place a soft kiss on her lips. then, you slotted your thigh between her legs, pressing her soaked, pulsing pussy against the muscle. without asking for permission, she started slowly grinding against it.

“you’re going to take what i give you,” you said against her mouth. she whimpered, already feeling herself wanting to unravel. “and you don’t get to come just because you want it.”

you moved your thigh away from her just slightly, making her grind against nothing but the air. she couldn’t even bring herself to say anything in complaint, just let out another violent sob at her fifth orgasm being taken away.

you leaned back so you were sitting on your heels, taking in the sight of her in front of you. she looked absolutely wrecked–cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, tear and mascara stains on her face, red marks where she was biting her bottom lip, god. you wondered how you had never thought of this before.

she reached forward to grab your hand and shove it where she wanted it, not even caring about the potential consequences. you didn’t touch her though, stiffening your arm before it could. “please, please, make me come. i’ve been so good at taking it all. i can’t take it anymore.”

you pretended to think about it for a moment, then knelt down between her legs. you almost considered being stubborn and not giving it to her, but at this point, she would probably come just from you touching her even slightly. she quite literally sobbed from relief while watching you do so, throwing her head back against the mattress. you let your breath fan over her for a second, and she clenched when she felt it.

when you finally flicked your tongue against her clit, her thighs clenched tightly around your head with an intense orgasm. she didn’t even make a sound as she gushed beneath you, her upper body hunching forward involuntarily. you continued to circle your tongue slowly against her clit though, working her through it. her hands clutched at the sheets until her knuckles turned white.

after about a minute when she started to come down, her entire body shaking, she realized you hadn’t stopped yet–but you didn’t intend to. her legs trembled around your head, stomach clenching and body jerking every few seconds as you continued to circle your tongue. her hands flew to your hair to scramble for purchase.

“wait, i’m–fuck, i can’t–” she said breathlessly with confusion dripping in her tone, tears slipping from her eyes again.

“isn’t this what you wanted?” you said against her, making sure she could feel the vibration. “you wanted to come, right? do it again.”

she blinked at you with her lips parted like her mind was blank, like her intense orgasm had wiped out any potential for a coherent thought. you increased the pace of your tongue, trying to work her back up to that edge for another one.

“i’m–goddamn, shit,” she babbled.

it didn’t take very long before she was coming again with a moan, grinding her hips against your face involuntarily. her back arched off the bed, eyes rolling into the back of her head at the feeling. you worked her through it for a few moments before pulling away from her, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

she was lying against the bed, her arms thrown lazily over her face, chest heaving like she had just run a marathon, legs shaking helplessly. you bent down to press a kiss against her stomach gently, which she didn’t react to, then laid down next to her.

“good?” you asked, throwing your arm over her stomach in a comforting manner.

she didn’t move her arms to answer. “yeah,” she breathed.

then, she spoke again. you don’t know why you weren’t expecting the words that came out of her mouth because it’s paige. she couldn’t do anything without returning the favor.

“are you going to sit on my face now?”

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #wcbb x reader #wlw smut #sub!paige bueckers

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littledes1re · 2 months ago

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How to disappear | Chapter: one

Summary: after the passing of your mom, you and your dads best friend get close. You find comfort in him and he does the same because he also once lost something. While a relationship between you two sounds wrong and taboo, your feelings grow stronger. But Joel is an old man, guilt and the fear of losing you too, overwhelms him. So he leaves you.

Warnings: Angst, grief, heartbreak, lots of emotions, (fluff as a flashback), joels alcohol problems, dad that doesn’t care for his daughter, age gap! (23 and 61), crying, kind of depression, smut (as a flashback)

A/N: Okey Okey, I may said next week but I was already done with it so finally it’s here. Some dbf and Oldman!joel angst hehehe. Ngl I kinda hurt myself with this one.

Dear joel,

i‘m still thinking about the first time you kissed me, gentle, careful, caring.

I wish you‘d see how much I love you, how much I love being in your presence, how much I love our midnight talks.

We are both broken, something connected us. You made it a reason to leave me, I made it a reason to call you my soulmate.

I feel heartbreak. I cry myself to sleep, tell me..is that better than us comforting each other and having fun?

I miss our conversations, I miss your smile and your ability to comfort me.

Dad is asking why you are distancing yourself.

I love you, always.

Winter felt like forever.

A never ending cycle of dark and cold days, where the world stays still when snow falls. Lingering loneliness creeping up, as you fall for the hopelessness of it all and allowed the weather to dictate your mood while in the back of your mind the soft touches and whispers swam around of someone you where aching to be revolved around with once again.

Joel Miller.

Your last conversation stuck in your mind like the withering words only an enemy can say to you. Repeating itself over and over till there is only a echo of two words. We can‘t.

But there was no flicker of rejection in his eyes as he touched you, no regret as he cuddled you after his release, no shimmer of a different personality you weren‘t aware of, you knew him long enough. At least you thought so.

The aching in your heart and tummy was one that didn‘t go away no matter how much time had passed. The sadness clinged on you, wrapping tightly around your ribs, making it hard to breathe. It was one that grew each day for the past season, now coming to the point that you feel yourself getting sick from it. Flashes of memories startle you while you want to go on with your day. The glimpse of his brown eyes, landing on your face, soft and gentle the way you always knew him. Faints laughs of you two whenever it’s quiet.

And somehow underneath all of this it remembered you of your mom. The day she passed, the darkness that fell on you, the ability to not think straight as your eyes were hurting from crying. The shock not letting up, moving like a ghost trough life, pretending to function. Time would heal, but it didn’t. Time just showed you how to carry the pain without showing it.

You wanted to be small again, cradled by your mother’s hands, soothed by her voice.

“It feels like time has stopped for you and the people around you don’t care. You somehow have to function, but the person was your sole reason to function.” His eyes were emotionless.

Joel stopped crying after five months. He became a vessel of a man who once showed his kindness through actions and words and now someone who shuts everyone off. Grief is not predictable. It changes, buries itself deep beneath the skin and eats you alive. Joel never asked for comfort. But he gave it to you. He thought he didn’t deserve warmth, he thought he didn’t want to feel joy. But he let you feel all of those things.

The rough patch of his beard tickled your skin as you laid on top of him, nuzzling your face into his neck. The tears were dry on your cheeks, your eyes swollen and red as a headache started to form. His big hands rubbing circles on your back, soothing you to sleep.

“She is watching over you.”

The line that was crossed was blurred. The day you caught feelings was unknown. You just knew that there had been this silent connection between you two right after he decided to knock on your door to check on you.

“How y’doing, kiddo?”

Maybe it was the fact that you didn’t except it from him. Maybe it was the fact that your dad was distant after your mom’s passing. Maybe it was the fact that both of you lost something.

A man you should suddenly avoid because of his alcohol problems; your dad’s sayings. After his daughter’s passing he developed an alcohol problem, something that was clear whenever he was in your house, his eyes hazy, movements too unsteady. Your heart ached for him, never understanding how people do that to themselves. But after your mom, you did. His actions spoke louder than his words. He still helped your father around the house, with his job, with other things. He was there ,only his emotions were completely submerged, a veil placed over them so no one could recognize his true feelings.

That night, changed it all. He calmed your nerves, gave you the comfort you’ve been aching for the past eight months, and after that he finally let you in his heart. Told you what he was feeling. Guilt, anxiety and anger. His lips were quivering, eyes dark and swollen. Jaw clenched, as if he was trying to bite back the sob clawing up his throat. His breath shaky.

“I should’ve been there.” The only thing that he would murmur and then silence. A rather comfortable and understanding one. You don’t say anything, you just watch. Seeing the same emotions going through him as the day you lost your mom. His eyes would finally lift, and they would shine but not with kindness but with anger and sorrow. You could see it.

“An-and I feel selfish. For now coming in here and telling you this while you also lost someone.”

“Hey, hey. No.” Your hand gently lands on his shoulder, slowly moving to his hair caressing through his curls, while looking at him. His eyes softened, suddenly filling full of worry, bottom lip pouting. Looking at you like a kicked puppy. You felt tears leaving your eyes, landing on your thighs, you wanted to hug him. You knew how he was feeling. You also wanted to give him comfort.

“Don’t even think like that. You’re not selfish for speaking it out. You’re human, joel.”

He tilts his head slightly, you doing the same. A flicker of something knowing passing through your gaze.

“And if you really think thats selfish, then i’m selfish too. For wanting to hear it. You should’t carry it alone.”

For the first time, joel let’s go of the breath he has been holding for a long time. It doesn’t fix anything— but in this quiet moment, something shifts.

A piece of his sorrow, no longer carried alone.

He came over more often. Opened your door, sneaked in your bed and cuddled you, whenever your father was at home, you went to his place. He didn’t care anyway. You two had small road trips, where he drove you to his favourite places, music in the background, your head out of the window, enjoying it. It felt safe, it felt right.

Every worry in your head disappearing when he put your head on his chest. Soft humming and fingertips caressing the skin. Your conversations were not only about loss. They were flowing easily, they were funny.

“This thing is gonna give me a heart attack one day, I swear.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, trying to find the right buttons to put it on silent.

“Ain’t working like that, wait—you have a nokia? Where the hell is your phone?” You asked widened eyes, after you snatched his supposed phone out of his hands.

He snatched it back, eyebrows furrowing.

“What about it? Tommy bought me one because they are easy to use.”

“No, no. S’nice.” You tried to suppress a giggle. And as you swallowed you looked around his house, he looked at you with a grumpy expression.

“What? I can’t keep up with your new generation shit.”

“Oh I bet, I bet. I just find it funny.” You finally giggled, laying back down on his couch, holding your tummy.

“Y’know what’s real funny? You don’t even know half of these movies that I showed you.”

You gasped, sitting up again. His face all smug, a smirk on his lips.

“What? They are cult classics c’mon now—“

“Yeah, for old people.” You rolled your eyes playfully, seeing his face all serious now.

Giggling, you stood up as he abruptly did so too, stretched out his arms to reach for you.

And you knew what that meant. You laughed just more, running around his coffee table and he followed you, trying to grab you. And suddenly he did, throwing you gently on the couch and began tickling you.

“J-joel” you couldn’t breathe from the laughter.

You thought your dad would comfort you and be there for you after what happened, you didn’t think it was going to be joel. But your dad locked himself up, ignoring his dad duties. Leaving you alone, not showing his emotions, not letting you show yours. His demeanour was cold, distant it felt like living with a stranger. You understood why. You understood that he also lost someone, but he never once asked how you are, never once opened the topic of Mom again. Deleted it from his life like it never existed. And while doing that he also deleted you slowly.

Your friends stopped texting, one didn’t know how to comfort you. The other one was acting like it wasn’t a big deal. So you also deleted that topic from them, from your father. Joel was the only one who heard you talking about your mom.

And then he left you. So now, you were completely alone.

But maybe you didn’t really love him. Maybe you just loved his comforting. Maybe you just needed someone and he was there. Would you love a man forty years older than you if your father acted like a father? The way he looked at you, worshipped you, made you feel good. Made you feel special. Took care of you. Something connected you two. Wasn’t those signs of love?

“Hurting?”

“No, think i’m good.” You whispered to him. The stretch was unusual, nothing that you haven’t had before but it felt different. It was with joel.

“S’good, real good.” He nodded his head to you. Under the covers, vulnerable, you two were naked. There were goosebumps all over your skin, and his too. Joel lets you adjust on his shaft, worried eyes scanning your face to see if you show any sign of discomfort.

The atmosphere in the room was calm, lights dimmed and if felt comfortable. The first time you really made out with him and laid your hands on his bulge he stopped you. “Wanna do it right.” He took his time, kissing every inch of your body, teasing you, loving on you. Calling you his pretty girl. Making your eyes almost tear up of how much love he was giving you.

He was extra careful as he started to thrust into you, little breaths leaving his mouth, your hands gripping his biceps. A little moan leaving your lips, feeling the pleasure in your belly slowly fill.

His gaze never left you, he noticed it all. The smile you give him, cheeks flushed, trying to breath right and suppress a loud moan. The way he handled you with gentle hands cupping your cheek, kissing your forehead.

“Joel—please.” A coo leaving his mouth, speeding his thrusts into you.

Joel would bite back a groan, his thrusts sometimes sloppy, sometimes losing the rhythm because it’s been so long. But you didn’t care. You loved feeling him all, you loved being with him.

And when he came his face would twist, you would gently touch his face. He would bury himself into you on last time and then hide into your neck, leaving wet kisses while catching his breath. While you didn’t come, you were still content and satisfied to have him on top of you. But of course he realised it and ate you out for one hour, taking his time, giving you the best orgasms of your life.

You never got an answer from the letter. You never got an answer on your countless texts and calls. He cut you out. And you were trying your best to be angry, you really were. But deep down, the sense of understanding was spreading. You knew how much trouble you two would be going through if your father or anyone in your family found out. Anyone in his family too.

The age gap would let everyone turn their heads in the streets.

Your friends, colleagues everyone would think he is a weirdo. That you are a weirdo.

But then you ask yourself why?

Why did he let you develop these feeling for him? Why did he give you a reason to think that he was in love with you? Why did he comfort you? why did he give you this feeling that everything is going to be fine? Why did he make you believe that there was a connection between you two?

A knock pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Can you help me set the table? Joel is also coming—oh and his girlfriend too, apparently.”

AAA this took so long, but i’m actually proud of this. Please if you see mistakes or want to give feedback, feel free to do so.

Thank you so so much for 900 followers, it’s truly unbelievable.🥹🥹

Chapter two!

My Masterlist!!!

Taglist:

@vickie5446 @a-goose-on-mars @thatgirlmendo @ihearttdilfs @pickyeater13 @sweetiegirl16 @keseqna @shivispunk @kyloispunk @meetmeatyourworst @joelmillerswife9 @iveseenstrangerthings50 @idrkman @vanishintoyoubby @dlwrish @cuntyhunty22 @glitterspark @tikikiki @millerdilfs @lovelystrawberrysblog @millersdoll @mani-pedro @simp4pedro @angelic1angel @hazzzy418 @valitagun @throttlepascal @speaktothehandpeasants @mystickittytaco @whatwouldsookiedo @sage-babydoll @umadirectioner @neobangverse @stvrl1ghtt123 @midnightmischief10 @ccmoonshine @dendulinka6

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #tlou #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel #dadsbestfriend!joel #dbf!joel miller #angst #hbo tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller series #joel miller fluff #tlou 2

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reidrum · 3 months ago

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i think he knows

A/N: more doctor!reader!!!!!!! can you tell i love them. if you have requests for them please send them my way thank you <3

summary: in which spencer and reader try to find time for each other to have their first date

cw: doctor!reader, fluff, spencer being a flirt, medical talk

wc: 2.5k

A month passes before Spencer gets to see you again. A long, long month.

He stayed in the hospital for observation for another two days after meeting you, which were entirely medically necessary but don’t ask Spencer how his chest pain stopped the moment he signed the discharge papers because they just couldn’t keep him any longer. He knows it’s illogical, and a bit immoral, to fake symptoms for his personal gain. But who could blame him, had they seen you?

You didn’t make it any easier on him either, the times you’d check on him you’d leave him red for hours. Morgan had gotten suspicious seeing him be surprisingly high in spirits for someone who just got shot. You’d even talked to the nurses to get him extra jello, a love language in its own.

But his daydream was soon shattered upon his discharge, where he couldn’t just lay in a hospital bed and wait for you to come to him. He was to be sent to exile (home) to finish out the rest of his sentence (recovery), while he so agonizingly waits for the next chance to see you again.

The first day back home was already enough to send him into house fever, and he couldn’t even freely pace off the nervous energy because of his leg. You had given him your number, which meant he had to text you. It was a lot of pressure. He knew his assignment and yet couldn’t figure out what the right thing to start off this conversation with you should be.

Should he be formal and hit you with a simple Hello. Or give a bit of a flirty edge and add a heart emoji—one that Penelope taught him how to do, thank you very much. No, he should probably introduce himself since you don’t have his number. So you don’t think a random freak is trying to message you.

He types out a message and sends it before he can second guess himself anymore.

Spencer: Hey there, this is Spencer. Room 207?

Spencer flips his phone face down so he doesn’t manically check the notifications for your reply. You’re busy, you could be in surgery or doing rounds, or sleeping on a break or—Ding!

Or typing out a reply to him, perhaps.

You: Hi Spencer ☺️ how are you feeling? Spencer: Better now, how are you? You: Better now ;)

Oh, you’re everything to him.

Spencer: Are you on a break or am I bothering you? You: Lying down in an on call room bed! I love when you bother me please don’t stop

He actually giggles aloud, thank god he lives alone.

Spencer: Good, because I was running out of medical emergencies to fake just to get to see you again. You: Gasp, faking? Sweet talking works well on me, don’t get me wrong, but I might have to report you to the medical board. Spencer: I’m not that kind of doctor so I don’t think they’ll care, plus I think once they see you were my doctor they’ll side with me. You: Flattery will get you everywhere Spencer Reid be careful. Spencer: I’m sure hoping it does.

It goes on like that for a few weeks, to Spencer’s delight. Back and forth texting, the blatant flirting on both ends and his poor but endearing attempts to match it. He wants to get to know every part of you, and thankfully you’re just as curious as he is, so every waking minute either of you aren’t working ends up being spent by talking with each other.

Not just the casual things like where you grew up or where you went to school. No, he’s learned what your go to coffee shop order is, what latent hobbies you have hidden under your belt, what your favorite movie is and the specific line that makes it your favorite.

He’s told you about his favorite Doctor Who episodes—which you made him promise to show you someday, showed you pictures of his mom and his godson, his go to Indian food order for the place down from the office.

While Spencer loves talking to you, it’s simply not enough. He has to see you soon or he might combust spontaneously. He might do that anyway but it’s much more noble to have a good and valid reason to perish in such a way, like being in your presence.

Spencer: Hey, can I ask you something? You: Uh oh, I don’t like the sound of that. Spencer: Nothing bad, pinky promise. You: Ugh, the most sacred of promises <3 Okay, let’s hear it. Spencer: Are you free this Friday? You: AH I thought you’d never ask!! I am so free this friday night doctor, setting out my best dress just for you ;) Spencer: I’m sure everything you wear is beautiful, but I’m looking forward to seeing you again :) I’ll pick you up at 7? You: I’ll be waiting <333

He asks you out officially on Monday, and he spends the rest of the week praying to whatever unsub or case gods that are out there watching to calm down this week so they don’t get whisked away on a case. Tuesday through Wednesday only consisted of paperwork, and it gives him hope he might actually make it to Friday and finally get to see you. Even Morgan and Emily’s teasing of his suddenly happy mood can’t bring him down.

Thursday night comes around and he’s about ready to jump for joy as he finishes packing up his things. JJ walks by and he’s about to say goodbye to her when she waves a manila folder in the air, “Sorry Spence, conference room in 5.”

He deflates. So close.

Spencer lets his satchel slide off his shoulder and reluctantly pulls his phone out to open his message thread with you.

Spencer: Hi, I’m really sorry to do this but we just got called on a case. Do you think we could reschedule dinner? You: Hi handsome, don’t worry I understand. The world needs you crime fighters :) I’m free next friday?

He tries to ignore the way his heart stutters reading ‘handsome’ and types.

Spencer: I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Next Friday sounds great. You: Be safe out there please Spencer: Always am. You: Need I remind you we met because you got shot on the job Spencer: That was one time, and I told the guy to shoot me. You: Yeah, that’s not making me feel better. Spencer: I’ll be safe, getting to see you next week will be my motivation to be extra careful. You: I’d hope you’re being careful regardless but whatever works for you, handsome <3 Spencer: Got a pretty girl waiting for me, I have to take extra precautions. You: Oooh that was good, you’re getting better at this Dr. Reid. Spencer: What can I say, you make it really easy. Spencer: Okay I have to go for the briefing, talk to you soon. You: Bye handsome 💞

The case comes and goes, an easy solve but it took a few more days than the team would like to admit for a case of this caliber. They return back only a week later and it’s another Thursday night where he’s hoping nothing steps in to prevent him from seeing you. He’s lucky in the sense that nothing is stepping in to prevent him from seeing you, FBI mandated break and all after a long case.

He’s not so lucky when you regretfully tell him you’re scheduled for surgery all day on Friday. You’re entirely too apologetic for his liking, for someone who flaked on you initially and had to alter your schedule to his. Especially for someone who, of all people, understands the busy lifestyles you both lead. He reassures you a thousand times over that it’s okay and that you can reschedule.

Spencer: Please stop apologizing, it’s okay I promise You: I just feel soooo bad. I was really looking forward to seeing you. Spencer: I know. But we’ll see each other soon. You: Promise? Spencer: Pinky. Did you eat anything? You: No I wasn’t hungry, too sad about not seeing your face. Spencer: A poor reason to starve yourself, I’m ordering food for you. Are you at the hospital? You: I’m at home but you don’t have to do that. Spencer: Okay but I want to, are you going to give me your address or will I have to find it myself? You: How are you going to do that? Spencer: I have my ways. You: It’s your tech analyst friend isn’t it Spencer: Maybe. You: So if I share your address it’s a HIPPA violation but when you do it no one bats an eye. Spencer: It’s for a worthy cause. Please let me do this. You: Fiiine. 1563 Rock Lakes blvd. What are you getting? Spencer: Thank you, honey. Pad thai with chicken satay. You: Ugh, you know me so well <3

To yours and Spencer’s dismay, this pattern continues on for another few weeks. Whenever your schedule finally clears, he gets dragged away on a case. When his schedule is clear you have back to back surgeries or consults. It’s like you just can’t get the timing right, no matter how hard you pine for each other.

The doubt travels and festers in both of your heads, the blatant evidence showing you that this may not work between you. Thing is, you both love your jobs too much to even try to accommodate the other. You’re both so busy you can’t even find time for one evening alone together.

Then George Foyet happened. The Haley Hotchner of it all, happened.

It hit the entire team hard, watching a colleague they viewed as family lose someone they loved so deeply and in such a torturous way. Spencer forced himself to take a step back and really evaluate what he was doing—was he willing to subject someone he cared about to the world he lives in? To the horrors they become exposed to? He still thinks about the heart attack he had when the Fisher King sent his mom a key after being in the same facility with her for some time. He’s not sure he can handle that kind of fear again.

Spencer knows he doesn’t have to do this, it’s so early in whatever this is between you both. You haven’t even had time to go on a date. Maybe your lives are just incompatible. Maybe he can save you before he ever even puts you in danger’s way—the ultimate act of valiant efforts in the form of preemptive measures.

What you don’t know can’t hurt you, literally.

Ding!

But then you go and do something like this, where he gets to flip his phone over and blush red in the face at your name on the notification. That he gets to open his messages and be met with the beautiful sight of your face, smiling in a picture you took just for him showing off the coffee you got on your break and reading the book he recommended to you a few weeks ago.

And he’s just not sure if he can imagine a world where he doesn’t meet you and immediately fall in love with you.

Another week, another attempt at finally being able to take you on a date. Except this time fate has stepped in on both ends and sent Spencer on another case and you scheduled for surgery. Lovely.

The case goes fine again, save for the unsub with an overt penchant for clipping FBI agents aiming their guns at him. Enough damage to send him to the ER needing stitches on his forehead and a concussion evaluation.

The doctor seeing him was a good doctor, but he wasn’t you. It was a man who, no offense to him and his medical training, definitely did not have hands as soft as yours stitching him up. He sighs out loud in the ER as he waits for a nurse to come by and discharge him. God, he wishes it was you.

“Seeing other doctors behind my back? I thought we had something special, Dr. Reid.”

He has half a mind to look up at the sky and mouth God?, as he feels his prayers have been answered in the most literal way.

“What are you doing here?” he asks incredulously, fully in disbelief at the sight of you in front of him.

You smile and step towards him, closing the curtain behind you, “I told you, I had surgery.”

“In Maryland?”

“In Maryland,” you nod, “They needed someone with my background to help out so I flew out.”

God, you’re so smart it physically hurts him how attractive it is.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t, I was looking at the patient log to see if they needed help in the ER when I saw an S. Reid age 27 in bed 4 and thought to myself ‘This couldn’t be a coincidence.’”

He chuckles softly, “Well, you found me.”

“That I did,” you lean in to inspect his cuts, “I thought I told you to be careful, handsome.”

The blood rushes to his face, “I know, maybe I just knew I’d get to see you this way.”

You gently readjust the butterfly bandage on his forehead, securing it more tightly. “You could have called me if you missed me, Spence.” you whisper.

“You were busy.”

“So were you.”

Spencer pauses, “Are you busy now?”

You step back and look at his face, his borderline puppy eyes doing the most to convince you to say yes when you were about to ask him the same thing in about another minute if he hadn’t.

You grin widely and check your watch, “I clock out in an hour. Wait for me?”

“Always.”

It makes all the missed connections and unaligned schedules entirely worth it when he gets to finally pick you up from your hotel room for your date turned into a weekend getaway. Spencer doesn’t even bat an eye when Morgan teases him about the mystery lady he’s staying back in Maryland for, or when Hotch gives him a multilayered nod of approval when he asks for a few personal days.

It’s entirely worth it and more when you and Spencer drive up to a lake house to spend the weekend together, and you joke about how your first date ended up being your first trip as a couple. Spencer doesn’t even stumble when you refer to yourselves as a couple, just tightening his arm around your shoulder and kissing the crook of your neck softly.

It’s the most worth it when, even after you said you were a couple, on the last night after staying up watching Doctor Who reruns post other activities, Spencer curls his arm around your body tugging you closer to his and whispers into your hair, “You will be my girlfriend, right?”

To which you simply beam up at him and whisper into his neck, “Of course, handsome.”

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jjkeverlast · 14 days ago

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hurts so good | jjk

✧ pairing best friend!jk x fem!reader

✧ rating explicit (18+)

✧ summary having jeongguk as a best friend had it's cons. for one he complains, a lot. surprisingly he shows up at your door at two in the morning to complain about something incredibly different.

✧ warnings & tags friends to lovers - hung!jk - light sub!jk - humor - oral (m. receiving) - unprotected sex (lol) - soft reassuring kind of sex :((( reader just wants to show guk that he can still fuck despite his big size :((((

✧ word count 4.3k

✧ author's note this fic is a re-upload! if you've seen it before, this is why:)

"Jeongguk? It’s two in the morning."

You’re shocked to see Jeongguk in nothing but a black sweats attire and a pissed off face.

"I need to vent." He reasons.

"At two in the fucking morning?"

Now you’re pissed. The sleepy eyes long forgotten and the eight hour of sleep you were looking forward to all day. You let out a huff, moving aside for Jeongguk to enter. He better have a good fucking reason for this shit, you internally think as he comfortably sits on your couch as if it’s his own home. Sure, he carries the best friend title but he really had a thing for being way too comfortable in that department. Which explains him snacking on your unfinished snacks after your movie night — yes, with yourself.

"Hey! Seriously?" You snatch the bag of chips, as his mouth is full paired with his doe eyes looking at you in shock.

"I was hungry!" It’s muffled, small crumbs of chips flying out of his mouth. Disgusting.

"Just tell me why you’re here so I can go to bed as quickly as possible." You settle the bag of chips beside you as you sit next to him on your living room couch. Jeongguk swallows the chips, his annoyed face returning quickly — as if he forgot why he was irritated in the first place.

"Okay, well, Victoria is out of the picture." Victoria as in the woman who’s been involved with Jeongguk the last month. They met through one of your friends and quickly they agreed to see each other. You’d heard zero complaints about their relationship, up until now.

"I’m sorry Guk. What happened?" Now he’s being really quiet, too quiet for your liking.

"Jeon Jeongguk." Your voice is stern and he knows he’s gonna have to speak up now or you’ll kick him out.

"You won’t believe me."

"Try me." His brows raise, noticing you’re quickly losing your patience with him.

"It was because of… of the sex."

Sex. A very broad subject in your opinion, having a million reasons why sex can be bad and shakingly good. So for Jeongguk to reason sex, your mind immediately thinks that it has something to do with the fact that Victoria didn’t finish while they fucked. Which could be true? You wouldn’t know. Yes, so Jeongguk and you were best friends and overshared a tad bit much at times, although sex? Sex was never really on the table of ‘subjects to talk about’.

"Fuck this is gonna sound so wrong." Jeongguk grunts, tilting his head back and your thoughts are left on the shelf for now.

"It can’t be that bad." Jeongguk makes a noise, stating he’s disagreeing with your comment. You roll your eyes at his childish act.

"Jeongguk, if it’s about you not making her finish I will kick you out."

You’re serious. If he came to your apartment to complain about not making someone cum at two in the morning, he’s gonna join the wolves and god knows whatever lurks in the streets at night.

"It was hurting her. Y/N, I fucking hurt her." You’re puzzled, trying to figure out how exactly Jeon Jeongguk could be hurting anyone.

"Wha–"

"With my fucking dick."

It’s silent. The air con noise grows louder in your apartment as you both stare at each other in fright.

Did he just say—

"Y-your dick?" You tilt your head, eyes wide open not having a chance at being closed. He’s nodding slowly and you wheeze — thinking this is some sick joke that he wanted to pull on you.

Classic Jeon Jeongguk.

"Y/N, I’m serious." Your laughter continues on, you almost tearing up as it becomes uncontrollable. As your mind slowly processes the awkward silence from Jeongguk's side, you quiet your laughter and listen to what he has to say.

"It’s because of my-my length."

"Length? As in you're big enough to reach her cervix?" You joke playfully, hitting him on the arm as you’d guessed he’d laugh at it but instead?

"Yeah."

You’re speechless.

Your laugh being completely swallowed, taken back by the agreement to your joke. Was he serious? He couldn’t possibly, then that would mean he probably has a big di–

"You don’t believe me."

You really don’t.

"It’s just hard to believe… that’s all." Jeongguk couldn’t possibly. It’s weird for you to even think about.

"How can I make you believe me? Cause I am seriously struggling with women and this isn’t helping." He gives you a stern look with a glimpse of urge for help. He’s desperate.

"Prove it to me." There’s no words to describe the expression that is currently resting on Jeongguk's face. A mix of every expression a person can carry.

“I’m not showing you my dick.” He gives you the obvious tone of ‘you can’t be serious right now’ and crosses his arms as you’re no help to his little situation.

“Then I’m not believing you.”

“Fine!”

“Fine.” You’re both staring into the black TV screen, arms crossed as the silence returns. It’s awkward for once. You were obviously joking about Jeongguk showing you his dick — not yourself wanting to see what’s behind his black sweats. As if the thought ever occurred to you of what it looks like…

Okay, so maybe you have. Once. It wasn’t your fault when Victoria had been drunkenly babbling over how big Jeongguk was. You didn’t think of it as much, seeing she was in a drunken state. But when Jeongguk admits it, you immediately try to shut down the idea that he might be telling the truth. You didn’t want to even begin to imagine how Jeongguk is in bed. Is he needy and whiny? Or controlling and grunting? No, seriously Y/N stop. You grunt in annoyance and that catches Jeongguk's attention, watching you bite your lip. He would never admit that you, leaning your head back, your lip tucked in between your teeth is hot. Like really fucking hot. No. You’re his best friend, for seven years to be exact. He can’t possibly find that hot.

Maybe it was because of the fact that he sought your help after Victoria threw a tantrum at him for having a big dick. It has never occurred him to be attracted to you, you had been friends for so long that sex or just anything regarding a sexual situation between you never crossed his mind. When he looks over once again, your eyes now closed, swallowing the silence that's filling the room between you as the tension grows. Maybe it’s only from Jeongguk's side, or maybe yours as well, although he can’t tell what you’re thinking.

"Let’s just forget this okay?" You finally speak, with a regretful tone which Jeongguk catches too quickly for his liking. He should’ve never found you hot for a split second. It’s wrong. So fucking wrong of him.

"Yeah, okay. I’ll leave." Jeongguk rubs his palms against his sweats, trying to calm himself from the ungodly thoughts of you crossing his mind slowly.

"Or–" You start off, catching his attention as he turns to meet your eyes, you look tired. "You could– you could stay.’’ He never expected for you to invite him to stay. Sleepovers between the two of you were never involved in your seven year long friendship. Jeongguk wanted to stay, and because you proposed made him hopeful. Hopeful in a sense that maybe, just maybe you’ve thought of it too.

"Sure, okay, I’ll stay." He’s hesitant. Are you both going to share a bed?

"You can just sleep on the couch. I’ll get you a duvet." You smile awkwardly, leaving the living room and entering your bedroom while Jeongguk feels incredibly stupid. Of course you don’t want him, you’ve never wanted him. He wants to slap his face for letting himself be attracted to you.

"Here." You’re already back, holding the duvet close to you, as you place it on the couch you wish him goodnight and return back to your room.

As your door closes, Jeongguk sighs loudly, falling back against the couch. He’s fucked. It’s fine, he just has to sleep his attraction towards you away. He discards his sweats attire, leaving him in his black Calvin Klein boxers, a personal favorite of his.

When he finally settles in, covered in your duvet, he catches the smell of you enveloping the fabric. It doesn't help his mind which already has you covering most of it. He tries to shake out of it, turning and at last closing his eyes.

After what feels like an hour of tossing and turning, Jeongguk comes to the conclusion that he can’t sleep. He wants you, more than he thought he would. He’ll probably hurt you, which is one of the few reasons holding him back from knocking on your door. Also the fact that you are very clear on the best friend scale.

There’s a lot of risks that would be taken if he stood up and walked towards you, admitting how much he wants you, how desperate he is to let you touch him. All thoughts vanish from him when he comes to conclusion that he’s saying fuck it. He’ll just leave if you don’t feel the same way and burrow himself deep in his bed and never leave until his attraction disappears completely.

He gets up, throwing the duvet off himself and being met with your white wooden door. His heartbeat is increasing as he urges himself to pull his arm up and form his hand to a knuckle to leave a knock.

As he’s about to knock, the door flies open and you’re standing in front of him, in nothing but a loose transparent white tee. Your nipples are on display for his eyes and he’s gulping over seeing more of you than he expected. Wait–why are you awake?

"Y/N?"

"I– I couldn’t sleep." You’re looking down, stealing a quick glance at his bulge which he notices. Do you, do you want him? God the buildup is absolutely killing him. But he tries to control himself, holding himself back from asking you if he can kiss you.

He clears his throat, "Why?" You were probably thirsty or maybe the thought of him being here caused you to sleep badly. He felt bad.

"I can’t stop thinking about it."

Your posture changes, a dominant demeanor overlapping itself on your shoulders. You’re stern, firm and just plainly honest. Could you be any hotter?

"Thinking about what?" You’re smiling, your gaze landing on his silver chain hanging around his neck. With a swift movement you’re hooking a finger around it and pulling him to your lips. Jeongguk freezes, his lips feeling warm as they’re covered by yours. He can’t process the fact that you’re kissing him. It feels so right, your chest pressed firmly against his, as he’s able to feel your hardened nipples through the fabric.

Before your fingers can grab onto his hair, he stops. "Are you sure?" You’ve crossed the friendship line, the kiss breaking the scale completely.

"Yes. Let me feel you Guk." Your pleading eyes, and the firm grip your finger has on his chain leaves him dizzy. He lets you, lets you take full control of him.

"Touch me." He catches your smile at his request before you pull him further in the bedroom and guide him to lay down. His heartbeat is going crazy fast, his mind barely being able to comprehend that you’re about to straddle his lap.

As you position yourself on top of him, a low grunt leaves his lips as the contact between your core and his visible bulge closes. He’s already so hard and you’ve barely touched him.

Your fingers grab his hair, tenderly running your fingers through the undercut. "I love your hair like this." You compliment as you go back to kiss him, missing the warmth of his mouth already.

Jeongguk is careful with you, wanting to touch you everywhere, run his hand down your spine and feel the warmth of your skin under his palm but he holds himself back. His mind is back to thinking of you hurting, and feeling hurt because of his length. This is a bad idea.

"Wait." He holds your shoulders, your hands laid flatly on his chest with a worried expression.

"What’s wrong?" You look like someone who’s scared you’ve gone too far and Jeongguk feels a tinge of guilt.

"I don’t want to hurt you." He whispers, being careful with his choice of words.

"What if I want it to hurt?" You trace your fingers on his chest, drawing them in small circles as his eyes move to your half hidden smirk.

"I–"

"Just, trust me." Your head falls down on his chest, leaving kisses on his chest and letting your tongue run freely on his exposed skin as he whimpers beneath you. Your tongue feels amazing on him and he gives in, letting you control the situation.

"Okay." Jeongguk softly says, your head moving lower towards his abdomen, peppering his skin with kisses and biting gently down to give him a small taste of what awaits him.

He can sense that you’re being patient, savoring up the moment of having him like this. His body is a canvas for you, to mark, bite and let your mouth run freely on. He wants you to take control, to show him how well you’ll be able to please him as he later on will give you his cock to fill you up.

"This– this feels really good." He mumbles, barely forming a full sentence, too captivated by the feeling of you above him.

You hum against his skin, seeming more than pleased in hearing his compliment regarding your mouth. You’ve moved longer down, your legs now settled between his as your breath lands hot on his clear hard on.

Jeongguk looks up to see you gawking at him and he grows embarrassed.

"Y/N, stop looking."

"Sorry, you just weren’t kidding." Somehow the answer resolves in you and Jeongguk laughing like idiots and him throwing a ‘I told you so’ into the middle of your shared laugh. The laughter soon dies down and the irresistible tension returns to the dark bedroom, the only light coming from the outside lights covering the streets. It’s the only light which helps the both of you in seeing a glimpse of one another.

"Can I?" You ask, holding one hand firmly on his hip as your thumb traces on the top of Jeongguk's Calvin Klein boxers. He gulps, nodding as he allows you to take things further.

You take your time in taking his boxers off, Jeongguk can’t help but have his hips shake – reasons being he’s nervous yet thrilled for this to happen. Having his cock on full display for your eyes is nerve wracking, he’d never see this day coming.

"Hey, I’ll be gentle." With that you use your thumb, smearing his leaking precum as he bucks his hips wanting more. Jeongguk is infatuated by your touch, becoming more needy for you.

"Fuck– your hand feels so soft." He throws in a compliment and surprisingly you go at a faster pace, a sudden moan escaping his lips. Fuck, how are you so good at this?

The sensational feeling from your hand has Jeongguk closing his eyes, also because he’s nervous to look at you while your hand is wrapped firmly around him. He’s too confused and captivated by you and the pleasure you’re giving him that he still really hasn’t processed what is happening right at this moment. It feels surreal.

Your thumb traces itself on his tip once again, Jeongguk running his hand through his hair as his breathing speeds up, a familiar feeling of release washing over him.

Fuck, you haven’t even touched him for long and he’s already thinking of coming.

You, his best friend since he had his awful hair fazes that just never really complimented his features. His best friend since high school, as you both lamely made fun of the PDA couples, who never knew what the word ‘privacy’ meant.

He’s too deep in thought, until you suddenly stop.

Jeongguk hesitantly opens his eyes, using his elbows for support as he now looks at you.

"Can I taste you?"

Jeongguk almost chokes at your question. His already fucked out state isn’t even hesitant. Fuck he’d love your lips wrapped around him. Your lips look even softer than your hand. The outline of your lips visible for his eyes as the moonlight discreetly shines over them.

God, you make him so weak.

Truth be told, Jeongguk doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever been this willing, this open to just anything.

But if it includes you? He’s all for it.

"Y-yeah."

Fuck, he just stuttered.

You probably think he’s being hesitant and–

You gently lick his tip, swirling it around to allow the taste of him to linger itself in your mouth, your hand starts to move again and Jeongguk's mouth falls apart, his eyes watching you.

If only you could see how pretty you were as you open wider, inviting more of him. Your mouth feels so warm, so welcoming. He wonders if it’s possible to get addicted to a certain body part, because he’ll for sure mention your mouth if asked.

"God, your mouth." He wants to caress your cheeks softly, as his thumb can feel how well he’s filling your mouth up. Maybe it’s too much… too sentimental. Seeing you’re literally stuffing your face with his cock, your hand stroking what you aren’t able to take.

Although, he forms a sort of courage and asks you gently, "Can I touch you?" You let go of his cock with a pop, brows furrowed as if you’re uncertain of where exactly he wants to touch you.

"Please?"

"Okay." Jeongguk leans closer to you, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb grazes the top of it. You lean in his touch before you go back down, taking him in your mouth once again. He won’t survive this. No. He won’t survive you.

He’s almost about to break when his palm feels the bump caused by his cock in your mouth as you bop your head faster, all while Jeongguk whines freely — not knowing he’s making you extremely wet by moaning so carelessly.

It’s not until you use your hand, focusing solely on sucking his tip that he’s almost about to finish. You retrieve before he’s able to, a string of saliva connecting you to his tip as you smile so innocently. Yeah, he’s definitely not surviving you.

“What are you doing to me?” It isn’t a question, rather a statement towards everything he feels for you in this instant moment.

You guide yourself back up, lips molding against his. He can taste himself on your tongue and it drives him crazy. He’s almost willing himself to take control — he’s never done or wanted that before, but there’s just something about you which drives him in a completely different direction.

Should he touch you? Touch you in ways he’s always found appealing but never for him? He’s willing, for you he is. Slowly but surely, he tenderly peppers your neck with kisses, slipping his tongue to run along. He’s startled when you moan so effortlessly. He wants to hear more of you and those heavenly sounds you’re so willing to offer him.

You begin to move, grinding your clothed core over his bare cock and a rush is sent through him. It’s almost as if he’s gotten you needy now, so needy you couldn’t contain yourself from grinding on top of him — still fully clothed. It feels new, although Jeongguk loves it, cause fuck he can feel how wet you are. Did you get this wet by only touching him?

"You’re already so wet." A grunt leaves his lips when you only hum in response, continuing your grinding, almost as if you’re losing yourself completely at the touch of him.

"Fuck, fill me up. I can’t wait anymore." You push him down, hurrying yourself to take your shirt off. Since when did you go from being patient to impatient so fast? He can’t help but feel extremely proud of himself, patting himself mentally on the back.

But then he’s in tact of what’s happening, you’re about to sit yourself down on his cock and he’s afraid — even though you made it clear you want it to hurt — he just… cares too much about you and the thought of you being in pain because of him doesn’t sit well with him.

"Hey, are you sure? I really don’t want to hurt you." You’re just about to position yourself, freezing in your movement. You’ve probably caught on how afraid he is.

"Guk, I want this. It’s okay." You peck his lips softly, his hold on you loosening to inform you that he trusts you.

His tip is barely inside of you and a whimper lets itself out of him. Scratch that about your mouth being his favorite body part of yours, your pussy definitely steps on the podium for number one.

You continue, Jeongguk catching the sight of his cock disappearing within you and his breathing starts to quicken. He probably won’t last long, not when you wrap yourself so nicely around him the further you go down.

"Shit—" You let out, fully sunk down on him. There’s a tinge of discomfort covering your face but Jeongguk forces himself not to worry, you want this, you want him. It’s soon replaced by a smile, as you start bucking your hips, letting yourself settle on him.

He really takes the time to notice how beautiful your breasts are, looking so delicate. God, he wants to touch them, touch every inch of you.

He’s reminding himself of the sounds you let out as he placed his lips on your neck, would you react the same way if he latched his lips on your exposed breasts as well? There’s really only one way to find out. Yet he wants to be good for you, letting you use him to make yourself finish.

You surprise him once again, guiding his hands towards your breasts — as if you knew he was having a tantrum with himself over if he should touch them or not — he was right, they’re incredibly soft. Your nipples perked and good enough to suck but then again, he holds himself back.

"You feel so good." Your words are mostly slurred, too focused on the pleasure — your eyes closed as you run your fingers through Jeongguk's hair — his hair that you like.

He makes you feel good, you keep reminding him when you mutter it once more as your hips buck at a faster pace. Shit, you really know how to ride him well.

It’s as if something clicks for Jeongguk when you go down to bite his earlobe followed by an angelic whimper. He loses all control of himself. "Fuck–" He’s taking control, flipping you around so you’re beneath him, hair sprawled on your pillow and eyes about to pop out of their socket.

"What are you–" Jeongguk latches his mouth on your hardened nipples, nibbling his tongue softly on them and it was so worth it. They feel so soft against his tongue. Although not as soft as your pussy wrapping itself perfectly around him.

Jeongguk feels dizzy, drowning in the feeling of how he’s swallowed by your warmth. Fuck he’d keep himself buried in you forever if he could.

He starts thrusting, profanities break out from you when the pace quickens. He’s reckless at this point, showing you how much you affect him.

As the time passes, skin grows hotter, small beads of sweat covering Jeongguk's forehead. You’re both close. He can sense it as you convulse around him which almost leaves him breathless.

"Fuck— it hurts, it hurts so good." With that your body loses its composure beneath him as you come undone.

It’s something about you making him good about himself, not only him as a person but him in whole. You’ve always been so accepting of whatever bullshit he’s brought upon you. He feels safe around you, your arms wrapped around his form as you run your fingers through his hair. You feel like home. You are his home.

With a low muttered fuck, Jeongguk feels his cock twitch as his hips stutter for one last thrust, filling you up with everything he has.

His hair covers most of his sight, both of you panting in sync as you try to calm yourselves. When his cock begins to soften, he takes it as a sign to let himself plop down next to you.

"I’ve– I’ve never…" Jeongguk doesn’t know where to begin. He can’t recognize the person he was right before.

"Taken control?" You steal his unspoken words and he turns to see you smiling softly. The moonlight has turned to a chrome yellow, indicating that a sunrise was indeed nearing. Your features have become more prominent for Jeongguk's eyes and your beauty captivates him by an invisible hook.

"Yeah, taken control."

"You should do it more often." It’s an encouragement and it seems to work because the idea of being in control doesn’t faze Jeongguk. He loved it.

It’s been around an hour after Jeongguk surprisingly fucked you. You’re both situated in your kitchen. The sunrise covering most of the apartment with it’s golden rays that strike inside the windows from the living room.

"What are you thinking?" Jeongguk caught onto your frown, indicating you’re thinking about something.

"I’m thinking that… I liked this, what just happened, I really liked it. It felt–"

"Right?" He answers for you and you nod.

"I don't want this to be the last time."

"It won’t be." Carefully, Jeongguk cups your face, his nose brushing against yours. He really wants to kiss you again.

"Kiss me." You seem impatient, and Jeongguk gladly does as you request.

Maybe, maybe this was always supposed to happen between you.

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