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bunji-enthusiast · 12 days ago

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𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 (𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥?)

Sypnosis [You go out to scavenge for food, basically.]

Characters [Poppy, Doey The Doughman.]

Note || it be rough down in Playtime Co fr, also the potential for the fluff is unmatched. Like, trying to vy for some light and hope, despite the horrors that await us at every turn in the factory. Raghh— also I’m posting another one after this, I wrote both of this and the other in tandem.

The factory was a maze of forgotten memories and rusted machinery, its shadows deeper and darker than most could ever imagine. Yet, amidst all the chaos, there was still a flicker of hope for survival. You were tough, yes—no stranger to hard labor and hardship—but survival in the backrooms of Playtime Co. required something more. Food, for one.

The small toys in the safe haven, especially Doey, needed sustenance, and even though they were small, they weren't any less deserving of food than you. Poppy, Kissy, and the others—tough as the journey was, you couldn’t ignore their needs. It was your responsibility.

But before you could set out, you found yourself in the worn, cold hall of the safe haven, where Poppy sat with a gentle but questioning look. Her eyes, despite their haunting bloodshot hue, carried something soft, something almost maternal. Her porcelain face, cracked as it was, held the same delicate, thoughtful expression you had come to expect.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Poppy spoke, her voice light and almost melodic. It had a faint echo, as if the walls themselves remembered her long-forgotten commercial days. “You’re going out to scavenge, aren’t you?”

You nodded, giving her a small grin. “I’ll bring back something for you too, Poppy. Don’t worry.”

Poppy’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of concern passing over her features. “You should be careful out there, you know. The factory's a dangerous place. Even for someone like you.”

“I’m tougher than I look, Poppy,” you reassured her, though there was a hint of apprehension in your voice. No matter how tough you were, the factory still held secrets, and not all of them were willing to let you go free.

Poppy looked down, her fingers twisting the ribbons in her red hair as if caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice had lost some of its previous cheerfulness, replaced by something deeper, something weary. “You have to understand… It’s not just food that’s at stake, you know.”

Your brow furrowed, confused at first. “What do you mean? The food—”

“I’m talking about the Prototype,” she said quietly, almost as if the mere mention of it weighed heavily on her. “If you go out there, be careful. He’s always watching, even when you don’t see him. The food… it’s just the beginning. Things could get much worse, much faster. You’re already in too deep, aren’t you?”

Her words gave you pause. Despite the factory's twisted games and horrors, the Prototype loomed over everything, a constant shadow.

“I know,” you sighed, “but we’re not getting out of here without doing something. The others—Doey, Kissy, and even you—need to be taken care of. And if that means I have to risk it, then so be it. I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?”

Poppy smiled faintly, her porcelain lips curling ever so slightly. “You’ve survived, yes. But maybe… maybe you don’t have to do it alone. I know I can’t leave, not with everything that’s happened. But we can’t let him win. We can’t let him keep us here.”

You gave her a reassuring nod, feeling the weight of the factory’s twisted past pressing down on you both. “I won’t let him win, Poppy. I’ll be back. Promise.”

She stood up slowly, her delicate porcelain limbs moving with an elegance that belied the danger lurking just outside the safe haven. “Be careful. And if you can find anything more than food… anything that could help us escape, don’t hesitate to bring it back. We all deserve that much.”

As you turned to leave, Poppy’s soft voice called out to you one last time. “Don’t get lost, okay? The factory is full of distractions, and not all of them are friendly.”

You smiled at her words, a small flicker of warmth in your chest. “I’ll be fine. Just stay safe, alright?”

With that, you stepped into the darkened halls, your mind focused on the task ahead. The air was thick with the scent of rust and decay, but your resolve was firm. You had a job to do. Not just for yourself, but for those who had no way of scavenging for themselves. And you couldn’t let them down. Not after everything that had happened.

The factory's mechanical heart seemed to pulse around you, but you kept moving forward, determined to find something—anything—that would give you all a chance at survival.

The factory was a place of eerie silence now, broken only by the occasional echo of footsteps. It had once been a bustling factory, filled with the sounds of laughter and the buzz of mechanical parts working in harmony. Now, it was a place of fear, of shadows lurking in every corner, and of memories that clung to the walls like ghosts. As a former employee, you had seen things here that no one should have ever witnessed. Yet, amidst the horror, there were still those who needed you. The small toys that had found sanctuary in this forsaken place — Doey, Poppy, Kissy, and others — were relying on you.

Food. The thought lingered in your mind like a simple but necessary task, a reminder of how even in a world so broken, survival still required basic needs. You had made your way through the depths of the factory once before, and though the dangers were still there, they didn’t faze you the way they used to. You were tough, resilient — your body honed for the challenges this factory threw at you. But even you couldn’t fight the gnawing emptiness in your stomach. And it wasn’t just for you. Doey, the ever-caring doughman, had proven himself to be a true companion. And Poppy... Poppy had become something more than just another toy. She had become someone you could rely on. Kissy, too, though she was quieter, always watching from the shadows, had her own way of offering help.

You knew where to go. The factory had its secrets — areas tucked away behind locked doors, hidden alleys between forgotten rooms where remnants of old supplies might still be found. The storage areas and old kitchens, once a part of the bustling workforce's meals, were now just echoes of the past. But perhaps, with a little luck, you could scavenge something to bring back. It was risky. The factory had changed since the disaster. The toys that once greeted customers with joy and laughter had become twisted, warped by the Prototype's influence. Yet, there were still pockets of safety — places where the light still flickered faintly.

You moved quickly, but cautiously, your eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The factory’s labyrinthine corridors seemed to stretch forever, each turn filled with uncertainty. You had a destination in mind, but that didn't make the journey any less perilous. The faint sound of machinery echoed from far off, and the distant scraping of claws against metal made your pulse race for a moment. But you pushed forward. There was no turning back now.

As you reached the old kitchen, memories of its former use haunted you. It had been a place of warmth once, where the workers would gather, a place of respite. Now, the shelves were bare, save for the scattered remnants of broken toys and discarded wrappers. A few boxes remained — their labels faded and worn, but their contents still promising. You pried open a few, finding only scraps of half-eaten meals and stale bread. Not much, but it would have to do.

You moved through the dark corridors, the boxes tucked under your arm, and it wasn’t long before you spotted a small, familiar figure in the distance. Doey. His doughy body shuffled forward with surprising agility, a small bundle of food in his hands.

"I thought I might find you here," he said, his voice soft but warm. "Food’s scarce, but we’ve got a few things hidden away. Thought you might need some."

"Anything helps," you replied, grateful. "What about the others? Poppy? Kissy?"

Doey smiled, his form stretching slightly as he thought. "Kissy's still laying low. She’s... been through a lot. And Poppy’s keeping an eye on things, making sure the others are safe. But they're hungry. We all are."

You handed Doey a few of the boxes you had scavenged. "We’ll make do," you said, though the truth was, the food would hardly be enough to sustain the group for long. But it was better than nothing.

“Poppy will be thrilled,” Doey continued, his voice quieter now. “We’ve all been struggling to get by, and every little bit helps. You know, it’s funny… in a place like this, food doesn’t just fill your stomach. It reminds us of a simpler time, a time when we didn’t have to worry about every little thing, when we were just toys living for fun and play.”

You nodded, understanding the gravity behind his words. While Doey often kept things light, he had his moments of deep thought, moments when the weight of what had happened here truly sank in. He didn’t often talk about the past, but you knew from what little he'd shared that he was one of the few who still remembered the humanity behind the toys—the lives they once lived. That empathy he showed for the other toys, even those whose humanity had long been erased by the Prototype’s cruel machinations, was something you admired about him.

“I know Poppy wants to put an end to all of this," Doey continued, his voice soft but serious now, the usual joviality replaced by a more reflective tone. "But I think... I think there's something worth saving here. Even after everything that's happened, these toys—like us—are still capable of so much more than what the factory intended. I believe that. Even if some others can’t see it.”

The words struck you in a way you didn’t expect. You had always known that Doey, despite his playful exterior, had a more complex side—a side that had always tried to balance the need for action with the need for understanding. While Poppy, the other leader of the Safe Haven, was adamant about destroying the factory and moving on, Doey had a different perspective. He wanted to understand, to find a way to preserve what remained of the toys' essence, to protect them.

"You really think there's a chance?" you asked, genuinely curious.

Doey nodded, though his expression remained neutral. "I do. Not all of us are beyond saving. We just need the right push. Poppy may want to destroy everything, but… I can’t just give up on them. I can’t give up on us."

There was a certain sadness behind his words, a sadness that only surfaced when Doey was truly vulnerable, when the weight of responsibility took a hold of him. But it was that very vulnerability that made him such a powerful leader—because it made him relatable. He understood loss, struggle, and hope, and he knew that sometimes, saving someone wasn’t about destroying everything around them. It was about offering them a chance at redemption, even in the most hopeless of circumstances.

"You know, Doey," you said, your voice steady, "You're not alone in this. Poppy and the others may not always see eye to eye with you, but… I think you’re right. We can’t just abandon the idea that there’s good left in these toys."

His smile returned, albeit more subdued this time. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."

Just then, you both heard the distant sound of footsteps echoing through the factory—another sign that the factory wasn’t as empty as it seemed. You both turned your heads, ready for whatever came next. But for now, in this brief, quiet moment between you and Doey, there was a sense of peace—a fleeting sense of hope amidst the ruins.

"Come on," Doey said, his playful tone back. "Let’s get this food back to the Safe Haven before anyone else starts getting ideas. They won’t be disappointed."

The two of you walked back toward the Safe Haven, the only place where any semblance of safety remained in this factory of horrors. As you passed through the corridors, the shadows seemed to shift. The factory had a way of making you feel watched, as if every creaking floorboard or distant thud was a reminder that the nightmare was never truly gone. You quickened your pace, eager to return to the others.

When you reached the Safe Haven, the sight of the familiar, fortified walls provided some comfort. Inside, the toys were scattered in various corners, huddled in their own small groups. The warmth of their presence was palpable, even if they were all, in their own way, broken by what they had endured. Doey moved to the corner, setting down the food he had gathered, and you followed, your eyes searching for Poppy.

She was standing near something—you couldn’t make out what, her porcelain face calm but her eyes searching the dark expanse beyond. As you approached, she turned to you, her usual cheer absent but replaced by something more serious.

"Did you find anything?" she asked, her voice soft yet filled with hope.

"Not much," you replied, holding up the food you had gathered. "But it's enough for now."

Poppy nodded, her lips curling into a small, appreciative smile. "We’ll make it work. We always do."

It was a rare moment of peace, fleeting though it was. You had been through so much together — the horrors of the factory, the twisted games and monstrous toys that had haunted your every step. But here, in this small corner of the factory, you had found something like family. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had.

And as you sat down with the others, sharing what little food there was, you couldn’t help but feel that, for all the darkness, there was still something worth fighting for.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #x reader #poppy poppy playtime #poppy playtime poppy #doey the doughman #poppy playtime doey #doey x reader #doey ppt #ppt 4 #poppy playtime 4 #poppy playtime chapter 4

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hier--soir · 2 years ago

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fake it

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: does joel know you well enough to know when you're faking it? warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] smut, smut, smut, it's pretty much entirely smut, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, faked orgasm, panty sniffing, cunnilingus. word count: 5.7k masterlist a/n: i've had this idea worming around in my head for days and i just had to get it out so heRE WE GO

“We’ll stop here for the night.”

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of Joel’s voice, and the truck rolled to a stop as he parked it in the middle of a field, directly on the edge of a thick forest. The three of you had been on the road for hours since leaving Bill and Frank’s place, and you’d drifted in and out of a fitful sleep for the past few hours, painfully aware that it was your turn to take first watch once you stopped somewhere for the night.

“Fucking finally,” Ellie grumbled from the backseat, and Joel shot her an annoyed glance through the rear-view mirror.

It was already dark outside, and you shone a torch ahead into the inky black mass as the three of you spread your sleeping bags out on the ground. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, adrenaline spiking in the darkness. You’d always been afraid of it; the dark, and what lurked within it. And being in the middle of a field, late at night, unable to make a fire, was surely one of the worst case scenarios you could think of.

“You guys sure we’re safe out here?” Ellie asked warily. You noticed her eyes staring out across the forest, trying to spot anything through the thick mass of tall trees.

When Joel didn’t answer her immediately, his own eyes drifting outward to gaze into the darkness, your stomach dropped. After a second of too much silence you discreetly elbowed him in the side. His head snapped around to look at you, frowning as he rested a hand on his rib.

“We’re fine,” you assured Ellie quickly, raising your eyebrows at Joel, as if to say, right?

“Yeah,” he said, eyes sliding from you to her. “No one’s gonna find us out here. You should get some sleep, we’re movin’ early in the morning.”

She nodded, still looking somewhat unconvinced, before slipping into her sleeping bag and rolling over so that her back was to the pair of you. You stared at your partner for a moment, chest aching with anxiety, hating the way his tone of voice hadn’t calmed your nerves.

Too anxious to sit down and rest for a moment, you shouldered a hunting rifle instead, positioning yourself close to the truck, where you could see both of them clearly. Every few minutes you rotated your body, watching the trees from every angle, making sure you would notice if there was even the slightest sound or movement. You hands grew clammy where they held the gun, and you had to readjust your grip on it every once in a while.

“What’re you doin’?” Joel’s voice drifted over to you after a little while. You turned, huffing out a laugh when you saw him lazing on his sleeping bag, sipping from his flask of whiskey.

“What am I doing?” you chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“Getting’ drunk on the job,” he smirked, tipping his head back as he drank. You swallowed thickly, smile fading as you stared at his long, thick neck, and the way it was exposed when he tilted his chin up. It had been weeks since the two of you had done anything more than kiss, too preoccupied with Ellie, and getting to Wyoming.

It was as if Joel could sense where your thoughts had travelled, because his expression darkened, eyes squinting greedily at you from across the open space.

“Why don’t you come over here, darlin’,” he said, resting a hand on his thigh.

“Joel,” you warned quietly, but he just patted his thigh in encouragement, taking a long sip from his flask.

“Just c’mere.”

You spared a glance around you, will power hanging by a thread, but ultimately shook your head, refusing. Joel let out a huff and stood up. He moved slowly, eyes never straying from your face as he stalked towards you, like a predator hunting his prey. And you watched him, tongue darting out to wet your lips as he came to rest beside you, leaning against the truck. Doing your best not to look at him, you tightened your grip on the gun and allowed yourself to lean back against the vehicle as well.

Joel held out the flask to you. “What’s got you so worked up, sugar?”

Casting an irritated glance in his direction, you snatched the flask from his hand and took a long swig, welcoming the stinging distraction as the liquid burnt down your throat.

“You know I hate the dark,” is all you said.

He hummed from low in his throat, nodding once. He stretched out a hand and snagged one of your belt loops with his finger, tugging you quickly into his side. You stumbled into his chest with a sharp gasp of surprise.

“It’s not so bad,” his deep voice drawled, plush lips grazing your ear. You shivered, tucking the flask away before placing a hand on his chest, your fingertips digging into the soft muscle there. “Nothin’ scary about it.”

Joel let his nose trace along the shell of your ear, and then across your cheek, and then his fingers were gripping your chin, turning your face to his..

His lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss, sucking and biting, lathing his tongue along your bottom lip until you welcomed him into your mouth with a pitiful sigh. His tongue pressed against yours, stroking slowly, coaxing your jaw open. You were vaguely aware of his other hand gripping the zip on your jacket and tugging it down. Heat flared in your abdomen, and you gripped the collar of his jacket, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and pulling back, enjoying the way he groaned as you stretched it out before releasing it with a wet pop.

You watched, glossy-eyed and already a little dazed, as Joel pried the gun out of your hands. He placed it gently onto the bed of the truck. His hand traced over your stomach, fisting the material intermittently, and then he was gripping your hips, spinning you so your chest was to the car, and he was pressed firmly against your back.

“Joel,” you muttered nervously, but he ignored you, sponging kisses behind your ear, suckling on the sensitive spot where your neck met your jaw. You could feel him, hot and hard against the curve of your ass. One of his hands drifted along the softness of your lower stomach, toying with the hemline of your shirt, and a stuttered gasp escaped your lips.

Sharp teeth grazed your neck, nipping at the skin and then he was lapping over it with his tongue, soothing the piercing ache he’d caused. You sighed at the feeling, rutting backward against him. You allowed your eyes to drift shut. And then they slammed back open again, as you realised neither of you would be keeping watch if you shut them. Joel’s face was hidden against your neck, there was no way he would see if anyone snuck up on the camp. Your heart thundered in your chest at the thought, and you kept your eyes open from then on.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he whispered against your skin, voice rough and wanton with need. “I’ve been missin’ you.”

“What abou-“

“She’s asleep,” he reassured, grip on your waist tightening. You could feel the way he was straining against his jeans, cock desperate and begging to be touched, as if he’d been thinking about this moment for hours, days, weeks. The ache between your thighs grew painful, and you rubbed against him harder.

“We have to be quiet,” you murmured quickly.

His only response was the distinct sound of his belt clinking, and then a shuffling noise as he dragged his pants low enough to free himself from the tight confines of his underwear. Not wasting a second, he gripped the waistband of your jeans and tugged them down as well, only satisfied when they rested around your knees, giving him full access to you.

One of his fingers glided messily between your folds and he sighed into your ear, marvelling at how wet you were for him already.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Wish I could put my mouth on you right now. Know you’d taste so good for me, baby, always do.”

You groaned. A soft, pathetic sound.

“It’s been so long,” he groused, and you murmured your agreement. It felt like you were suspended in the air, anticipation holding you firmly in its grasp as you waited for him to do something, anything. “Can’t stand it; s’all I could think about today.”

He tapped the rough pad of a finger against your clit and your entire body flinched forward against the car. As if he could sense the way your knees were buckling, his free arm wrapped around you, holding you up. You murmured his name desperately, hips pushing down against his hand.

“Should I fuck you with my fingers first?” he asked quietly, middle finger circling your entrance. “Or should I let my cock stretch you out?”

When you didn’t answer, mind too fuzzy to string a sentence together, he said, “Hmm?”

“Please,” you keened roughly, turning to glance at him over your shoulder. “Just want you, need you inside me.”

You saw the way the muscle in his jaw worked, lips pursed together as tension rolled through his shoulders. And then his cock was gliding through your folds, smearing your slick over his length, before the blunt tip of him nestled at your entrance. A harsh shout left your lips as he pushed himself, bottoming out in one thrust. Instantly, one of his hands slapped over your mouth, fingertips pressing into your cheek. Your eyes widened, darting around the clearing that surrounded you both on all angles.

“This ain’t gonna work if you do that,” Joel said gruffly, adjusting his hips so he pulled out halfway, before pressing himself back into you. The burn was delicious, and you fluttered around him, gripping him tightly after so much time missing him inside you. A garbled version of your name escaped him, and you whimpered in response, bucking your hips backwards, silently begging him to continue.

He set a gruelling pace, pressing into you relentlessly. One hand covered your mouth while the other gripped the front of your shirt tightly, holding your body still as he fucked into you. When your body jolted against the car from a particularly rough thrust, he muttered a gruff apology into your ear, but didn’t let up. Back arching, you contracted around him, revelling in the sound of the muted groans being let out against the back of your neck.

You bit down into his palm, a muffled cry escaping you. The thought of Ellie waking up and discovering the pair of you flitted through your mind and you cringed. But it disappeared from your mind just as quickly, Joel’s movements driving it away.

The air filled with sounds of heavy breaths and an odd squelching sound, as your slick squeezed around his cock and dripped out of you. Low curses spilled into the atmosphere, and Joel was saying something, speaking to you, but you couldn’t hear him over the roar of blood in your ears. Everything was heightening. The muscles in your abdomen tightened and twitched with every movement of him inside you, and your hips strained backwards, meeting him thrust for thrust. It was all so fast, so desperate, and your body was begging for release after being left untouched for weeks.

But right as you felt yourself reach a precipice, as Joel pushed himself to hit the deepest part of you, everything was ruined.

Because a violent image ripped through your mind of someone storming into the camp in that moment and dragging Ellie out of her sleeping bag. Of someone pointing a gun at you and Joel, while you were defenceless. The darkness of the night seemed to crush in around you, reminding you of its presence and suffocating you. Anybody, or anything, could be out there right now, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike.

Goosebumps rose across your skin. You gasped at the thought, icy dread spiralling through your veins, your orgasm drawing further and further from reach. Except Joel took your gasp as a good sign, and groaned in response, hand dropping your stomach to toy with your clit as his thrusts grew jerkier. You jerked against him, mewling into his hand. It felt good. It felt so fucking good, and yet you couldn’t focus, too distracted to lure back the orgasm that had been dancing in the edges of your periphery.

Your head was a violent jumble of pleasure and panic. A devastated moan tumbled from your lips, mouth hanging open as the head of Joel’s cock angled against your g-spot.

“There?” he asked breathlessly, and you nodded, reaching to grip the back of his neck. He moved faster, pushing and pulling and hitting that spot over and over. And you could feel the coil inside of you burn again, liquid heat spreading through your limbs as your body tried to reach that high again, but it just wasn’t fast enough. The car was cold against the front of your body, and your brain was on such high alert, that you knew you wouldn’t be able to get there.

“Come with me,” Joel encouraged gruffly, fingertips holding your jaw in a bruising grip. “Come on now, let me have it.”

He was so close. You could feel it in the way his rapid heartbeat crashed against your back; in the ragged breaths that were exhaled across your neck. His hips were stuttering against you, thighs tense. And you wanted him to feel good. Wanted him to let go after so long – god, he deserved it. So you did something you’d never done with Joel before.

You faked it.

Your chin tilted upward to the sky, and you let deep, elongated breaths rattle through your chest, singing his name into the palm of his hand. Joel made a deep guttural sound. His fingers rubbed messy circles against your clit, and you bucked against him, heart thrashing in your chest. He said you’resotight, and you said I’m comingohgodJoelohfuck, and through it all, you could feel it growing inside of you. Your lungs burned inside your chest. He was stretching you so perfectly, so deliciously, and you let out a genuine moan at the feeling of his rough thrusts. You could feel him in the bones of your skull, in the tips of your toes, and in every inch of your body in between, and yet you needed more.

Joel trembled, his entire body shaking against yours. You felt his cock jump inside you in quick, jerky movements and clenched around him, and then he exhaled a deep groan, and went still.

After a few moments, he pulled out, and you gasped at the cold sensation. Rapid breaths left his mouth, he peppered soft kisses down the side of your neck, removing his hand from your face only to wrap both arms around your torso and hold you against him. Your core ached, clenching around nothing as his spend seeped out of you, spilling onto your inner thighs.

Turning in his arms, you offered him a dazed look. Your body was hot, coiled like a string pulled taught, waiting to snap. He kissed you, with less rush this time, and you returned it lazily, reaching down to tug your pants up over your hips again. Your tried not to cringe as your underwear pressed against you. You were uncomfortably wet, and the cold material stuck to your tacky skin. Joel did the same.

Pulling back from the kiss, you rubbed the side of your jaw, flexing your mouth open in an attempt to soothe the ache that had settled there. Joel watched you all the while. His dark eyes flickered over your face, trying to see you through the darkness.

“You good?” he asked quietly, at the same time as you heard a twig snap somewhere in the trees, off to your left. Your head snapped to the side, eyes glaring out through the thick inky black, ears straining. “Baby?”

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “Thought I heard something.”

Strong fingers gripped your chin, turning you to face him once more. A frown had settled across his face, eyebrows drawn tight across his forehead. His lips were a thin line, and his chest still shook as he regulated his breathing, but you could see it there; the understanding. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as nervousness zipped through your body. He knew. There was no way, you told yourself. No way he could have known. And yet the longer you stared at each other, the deeper his frown got.

Wordlessly, his hand dropped between your bodies, and he pressed his palm against your mound through your pants. A soft sound of surprise escaped your mouth as his fingers curled against you, pressing against where your clit ached. You whimpered softly, numb fingers gripping his hand and holding it against you. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and you stilled, hand going lax on top of his.

“Fuck,” Joel said gruffly. “Fuck.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to deny it, to tell him it was fine, to say anything, but a rustling sound caught both of your attention. It was coming from the same spot as before, only this time it seemed louder, more pronounced. Your breathing paused.

“Get in the truck,” he said.

“Joel,” you tried, panic laced through your voice.

“Get in the truck now,” he said, grabbing the hunting rifle from the truck bed. “I’ll get the kid.”

Blood rushed in your ears as you walked swiftly to the passenger side of the truck, swinging yourself up into the seat and shutting the door behind you as softly as possible. Anxious goosebumps rippled across your skin as you stared out the window into the darkness, trying to catch a glimpse of Ellie or Joel. Minutes passed, and then the doors opened, and Ellie slumped inside, rubbing sleep out of her eyes, as Joel slammed into the driver’s seat, starting the car and tearing out of the field.

“Did you see anything?” Ellie asked from the backseat.

“No,” he said, not looking at either of you.

“Then why are w-“

“Go back to sleep,” Joel ordered her firmly, and you cringed at his tone, turning in your chair to offer her a sympathetic smile. She didn’t return it, laying down across the backseats and turning her back on the pair of you.

The car was entirely silent as Joel drove the three of you back onto a road, and continued heading towards Kansas City. And as much as your body yearned for sleep, you found yourself wide awake, eyes focused out the windscreen, watching the tarnished landscape pass you by, exposed up by the car’s headlights.

After an hour of driving, Joel finally spoke.

“Ellie?” he said, tone even.

No response came from the back seat. You watched him out of the corner of your eye. He repeated her name.

Satisfied when there was no response, he spared a glance in your direction, before turning back to look at the road.

As if against your own will, you whispered his name quietly, pleadingly.

“Don’t,” he practically growled.

“I’m s-“

“You thought I wouldn’t know?” his lip curled upward, a grimace painting his face. “Think that I don’t know you well enough to know when you’re faking it?”

Your entire body stilled. Heat prickled across your skin, and you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that Ellie was truly asleep in the backseat. Your hands were clammy, and you wiped them fruitlessly against the material of your jeans, unsure of what to say. He waited for you to speak, and when you didn’t, a loose sigh rattled from his chest.

“You do this thing,” he said quietly. “When you come.”

“What?”

“This huge smile,” he frowned. “Like you can’t help yourself. Like it felt so good, that you can’t control your face, and you smile so big I can see every one of the fuckin’ teeth in your skull.”

“Joel—"

“Every time,” he interrupted firmly.

“I-“

“And I didn’t realise,” he whispered harshly. “How much I look for it – that I wait for it, I god damn expect it.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured feebly, heat flashing through you. You gazed at the side of his tense face, stomach twisting at his words. You’d never known you did that. Never known he would notice if one day you didn’t.

“You’re sorry?” Joel scoffed. His hands gripped the wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. “You should be angry.”

You watched him with bated breath.

“First time I touched you in weeks, and I didn’t even make sure…,” he trailed off, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip. “Like you’re some fuckin’ toy.”

“It was good, Joel,” you spoke in a hushed tone, glancing over your shoulder at Ellie’s back. “I swear, I was just distracted, and it was dark, an-“

“It’s not good with me,” he said curtly, and you stopped, wetting your lips anxiously.

Before you could say anything else, a soft murmuring came from the backseat, as Ellie started to wake up once more. You cringed, straightening in your seat and returning your gaze to the road ahead.

“This isn’t over,” Joel said, voice rough. And when he turned his head to look at you, just for a second, you nodded in acknowledgement. A dark glint of determination shone in his eyes, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

A long, tense day passed by before Joel could get you alone again. You felt the frustration rolling off of him in waves. Those dark eyes watched you, uncaring of whether you noticed or not, his hands twitching towards you whenever you were close, aching to touch you, to repent. Without a chance to shower, you spent the entire day with a sticky reminder of the night before. You were uncomfortably wet, your own slick mixed with Joel’s come making a mess of your underwear, streaking down your thighs inside your trousers.

It was late afternoon by the time he spotted a house in the distance, and when he pulled up outside of it, he ordered you and Ellie to stay in the car while he checked it out.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” she said from the backseat, as soon as Joel was out of earshot.

“Me too, kid,” you muttered, eyes on the front door until he reappeared, giving the all clear for you both to get out of the truck and go inside.

“There’s a few rooms,” he told you as you looked around the house, eyes drifting over the dusty furniture, bookshelves, dining table. “Two down here, one upstairs.”

“Shotgun upstairs,” Ellie said quickly, heading towards the staircase at the end of the hall.

“Are you hungry?” Joel called out to her back.

Ellie paused at the bottom of the stairs and gave him a look that said what do we even have to eat? But all she said was that she was gonna crash, and grumbled something about him never letting her get any sleep as she marched up the creaking steps.

“I think I’m gonna get some sleep as well,” you yawned, stretching your arm out against your chest. Joel’s eyes flashed to yours, and he huffed quietly.

“Is that right?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. You faltered, pulse quickening at the insinuation laced in his words.

“I—”

“First door on the right,” he motioned his head towards the hallway, and you followed him wordlessly towards the room.

It was small, cosy. Late afternoon light gleamed in through a north facing window, and the sun’s rays shone across a double bed in the middle of the room, and a bare side table. Silently, Joel stripped the sheets off the bed, leaving them in a pile on the floor before unzipping his sleeping bag and draping it across the mattress.

“You tired?”

You watched his hands as they spread the sleep bag out, flattening out any lumps in it. Thick, long fingers pressed against the material, and heat spread through your lower stomach.

“Yes,” you said honestly, and he nodded, tilting his head to look at you. You unzipped your jeans and discarded them on the floor before crawling onto the bed.

“How tired?” Joel queried, kicking his shoes off and joining you on the mattress. He rested back on his heels, hands splaying across your kneecaps as he gazed down at you.

You mmm’d from the back of your throat, wetting your lower lip. “Not too tired.”

The muscle in his jaw jumped as his eyes drifting across your body, down your bare thighs, to rest on the dark spot on the front of your panties. His fingers traced down your thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, until he gripped the hem of your underwear.

He pulled them down your legs, tantalisingly slow, and you watched with wide eyes as he lifted the ruined material up to his face. Maintaining eye contact, he held them over his mouth and nose, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look away as he inhaled deeply. Heat soared across your cheeks, and you would have been ashamed, if it weren’t for the way you could see him beginning to bulge against the zipper of his jeans, hot and hard for you.

“I want you,” you whispered brokenly. Joel dropped your underwear onto the bed beside your body.

“I know,” he gritted his teeth, sliding his palms down your inner thighs and prying them apart so he could settle in between them.

One hand raised to cup your face and you smiled, nuzzling your cheek into his palm. His thumb grazed your bottom lip in a silent request, and you parted them for him instantly, welcoming the digit into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it, wetting it, and watched intensely as he lowered his hand down your body, and pressed the finger between your folds.

“Christ,” he cursed, mouth falling ajar as he felt you. “You been like this all day?”

“Yes, yes,” you whimpered.

“Then I’m a fuckin’ monster,” he chuckled mirthlessly, staring between your legs with hooded eyes. “Left my best girl all worked up. God, darlin’, look at you; dripping wet for me, desperate for something to come on.”

“Please,” you exhaled sharply. “I need you, want your cock inside me so bad.”

He tutted quietly, shaking his head a little. “You think I deserve it?” his eyes flashed to yours, mouth downturned. “Think I deserve to be inside this pretty pussy, when I’ve been so mean to it?”

Your thighs tensed painfully as his finger started rubbing lightly against your bundle of nerves.

“Because I don’t,” he said ruefully. “Think I need to make it up to you first, what do you think, baby?”

“Okay,” you exhaled.

“And we aren’t finished unless you come,” he said darkly. “Do you understand?”

Your lips felt numb, tongue heavy in your mouth as you stared up at him through hooded eyes. Joel glared down at you, nostrils flared. “Say you understand.”

“I understand,” you finally mewled in frustration, twitching into the mattress as his thumb swiped over your pulsing clit. “F-fuck, Joel, please.”

His finger dragged between the swollen lips of your pussy, spreading you open so he could see your glistening core. He swore under his breath, the tip of his thumb gliding over your entrance where he could see remnants of his seed still easing out of you. His knees thudded against the old mattress as he dragged himself down the bed, and then his mouth was on you.

“Ohhh,” an exaggerated moan left your mouth, leaving your lips parted in an O shape as your head dropped back into the pillow. His tongue flattened to lick a stripe up your core, all the way from your entrance to above your clit and you shuddered into his mouth, crying out at the contact. His hands gripped your thighs and dragged them over his shoulders, pushing his face deeper into you.

Joel’s nose dragged across your clit as his tongue circled your entrance, and slurping noises filled the air as he cleaned the remnants of himself from your hole. You gasped, fire racing through your veins at the idea of him drinking down his own come, and your hips bucked off the bed. The tips of his fingers dug into your thighs in a silent warning to stay still. You clawed your nails into his scalp, raking through his messy hair, doing your best not to absolutely writhe against his face.

He groaned against you, pulling back momentarily to smirk up at you, your slick shining on his lips and beard. It was shameful, the way the noises he made went to your head. The deep, growling moans, the way his hums vibrated against you. You absorbed them and filed them away into your memory, somewhere only for you to ever see. Your hips framed his face, thighs bracketed over his shoulders as he gripped them, no doubt leaving bruises where his fingertips dug into your flesh.

Joel worked painstakingly slowly at first. His hot, long tongue glided along the entirety of you, and then he dipped it inside your weeping hole. Your eyes rolled back as he pumped his hot muscle in and out of you, until you were begging him to just please fuck me Joel please I’m sorry, but then he just sped up, moving upward to flick the tip of his tongue across your clit. You gasped, back arching off the bed as he swiped back and forth sharply, his lips suctioning around it as he abused your swollen clit.

And then one of his hands disappeared, and he eased a long, thick finger inside of you. He stroked along your walls, hooking his finger against your g-spot as you cried out his name, clenching around the digit. Encouraged by the response, he swiftly pushed a second finger inside, scissoring them and stretching you out as he sponged messy kisses against your clit.

Your mind was a blur. “Shit, Joel.”

Every single nerve, every point of feeling in your entire body, was directed to the apex of your thighs, and you trembled with the intensity of it. Every kiss, every lick, every suck was a reverent apology, a vow to never let it happen again. Joel was on his knees at the altar of his god, begging for forgiveness, and you were more than happy to grant it.

It felt like your chest was being ripped open as heavy breaths worked their way out of your burning lungs, heavy panting mixing in the air with the sounds of his tongue gliding through your wetness. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and you moaned roughly as he let his teeth skate ever so slightly over your clit.

His fingers pumped inside you, curling against the roof of your channel in a continuous motion as his tongue rolled against your nerves. It sent a familiar fire spreading through your abdomen, warming your entire chest, until you were gasping for air, jaw aching as it hung open, in awe of every point of contact he had with your body.

You clenched painfully tight, pussy squeezing around his fingers as his tongue swiped back and forth across your clit. Joel hummed in encouragement, mouth buzzing against you in a way that sent you careening towards the edge even faster. It seemed like every muscle in your body was tightening. Arms tensed awkwardly, one hand buried in his hair, the other twisted in the sheets beside you. Thighs pressed against the side of his head, stomach burning as he built you up and up and up and—

“Oh, oh my—fucking god,” you sobbed as your orgasm hit, and Joel braced you against the bed, working you through it. Pleasure rushed through you like an avalanche. Stars burst behind your eyelids, and you let go of everything that had ever existed in your world except for Joel. You lost yourself in him; in the glide of his tongue against your core, in the way your fingers twisted in his hair, in the rough scrape of his beard against your inner thighs. He was everywhere, everything.

In time, you were vaguely aware of him pulling back, of only the drag of his fingers inside you remaining, and you knew he must have been watching you, raking in the sight of you so exposed.

“There you go,” you could hear him saying, somewhere past the ringing in your ears. “Give it t’me. That’s it, look so pretty like this, all fucked out just for me.”

And when he dragged his fingers out of you, it was only to make room for his head to drop down once more to suck and lick at where your orgasm dripped out of you, moaning as he went, desperate not to miss a single drop.

Finally, after the final waves of your climax had settled, and your limbs dropped heavily against the bed, he kissed his way up your body, wet mouth leaving a shimmering trail along your skin until he reached your face and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He pulled back after a moment, and you breathed deeply, lost in the way the sunlight danced across the back of your eyelids. You weren’t aware of the corners of your mouth tilting upward, of your lips peeling back to reveal your teeth as you grinned brazenly, cool relief coursing through you.

“Look at that,” Joel’s voice brought you back down to earth, and you blinked heavily, trying to focus your bleary eyes on his face. His hair was messy, a dark rough halo around his head as the sunlight shone around him. One side of his mouth was pointed upward, a small smirk decorating his features. “There’s that smile.”

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #my writing #fake it

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darklordofthesimp · 13 days ago

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Anything IX

The 9th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: I'm back for good this time cos I bailed out of my trash job of 6 years hello mferssss

Warning: Graphic Language, Graphic description of violence

You’d been thinking about your past more often than usual, especially on the nights that you lay staring at your ceiling. Saint told you that it was a sign that you’d begun to move on. The villain that had consumed your thoughts was now a tentative ally and you’d been left with history seeping through the cracks.

You were almost grateful.

Almost.��

You thought about your career before the incident, about the missions that went impossibly wrong. Death, grief, sorrow, hatred, and guilt, they weren’t things that you experienced alone. Shared pain eased the blow- you weren’t the only one suffering and, in a way, that provided comfort.

However, the mission that truly plagued you was a mission so highly classified that there were only four people who still knew of it. There were only four people who survived it.

“You and me, Birdy.

We’re dead.”

You sat up in your bed, mind kicking into overdrive. The dim light on your wrist indicated that it was well past midnight but your blood was electrified.

You’d been so preoccupied with what had happened to you that you’d stopped thinking about what you’d done. Why had someone tried to kill you, you had to have done something. You had to have known something.

“We’re dead.”

You pulled your duvet from your body, the cool air washing against your skin to make it prickle. Winter was, by far, the worst month to live on base. The heating units in your block were terrible and outdated with the empty promise of upgrades. You slid into your slippers and ventured into the hallway, palms rubbing up and down the length of your arms.

Your feet were on auto-pilot as they led you to the door of the last person you’d expect to seek out. There was no light seeping out from beneath cracks and you couldn’t hear a sound from inside. He might not have even been home, it was a Saturday night after all- no one was in. Not even Simon, and that was saying something.

You shifted your weight on your heels, wincing when the floorboard creaked under the pressure. It couldn’t hurt to knock. Or it could, you supposed. You had no idea why you were here, knocking on his door at 2am in the morning was unhinged behaviour.

You took a step back from the door, another creak betraying your position. This was a dumb idea. You could talk to him in the morning like a normal, functioning human being would.

The door swung open suddenly, forcing your heart into your throat.

König’s hulking silhouette filled the frame, shadowed and imposing. He barely fit through the door as he stepped into the corridor, the dim warmth of the ceiling fixtures washing over his figure.

You quickly realised that he’d been asleep as you took in his visage. Sleep tousled hair, a vulnerable gaze, König stood before you shirtless in long tracksuit pants. You forced your eyes to remain fixed to his face as he looked you up and down.

“Birdy?” He rasped, scrubbing his face lazily with one hand, the other resting on his hip. “Why are you lurking at my door?”

Indignant heat crawled from your neck and into your cheeks. “I wasn’t lurking, I was about to knock.”

König narrowed his eyes, silently telling you that he knew you were lying. You changed the topic, crossing your arms defensively.

“I just wanted to talk about something, I didn’t realise how late it was.” You cast a glance down the hall where you’d come from. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, we can talk in the morning.”

As you turned to leave, hot with embarrassment, König sighed.

“Birdy.” He called.

You peeked at him tentatively from over your shoulder.

The man opened his door and gestured inside. Your breath hitched in your throat, the room behind him was dark. That jade gaze watched you tiredly but with intent. He wasn’t going anywhere with you, this time you would have to come to him.

“Are you sure?” You asked quietly.

You received a nod in reply.

With a sharp breath and squared shoulders, you wandered cautiously into the lion’s den. Your bare skin brushed against his waist as you passed him, sending a thrill down the length of your spine.

A floor lamp turned on behind you, flooding the room in a warm, sensual glow. You barely heard the door click shut, you were too busy taking in the room before you. It was nothing like you’d been expecting, furnished and decorated with a surprising attention to detail.

The room smelt lightly fragrant, as though incense was lit frequently enough to linger. You caught sight of candles on the desk to your left, ‘cedar wood and myrrh’. That would do it.

The corner of your lip quirked upward at his library/gaming corner. A dark wood shelving unit housed a plethora of his books and a gaming console, then a flat screen mounted in the centre. Bean bags were neatly organised atop a dark rug, you figured they would be more comfortable for him than an inevitably too small couch.

A game was still playing on the screen, the character standing inactive in their own world.

“Were you playing?” You turned to look at König, who seemed very suddenly uncomfortable.

“No,” he cleared his throat and cast his gaze to the floor. “No, I fell asleep while playing.”

Your eyes were drawn to the bed last.

“That’s a big bed.” You don’t know why you said it.

“I’m a big guy.” Was the reply.

The bed was tall, something you would have to climb onto if it were your own. There was a large, dark wooden headboard pressed against the back wall, framing the bed like it was the main feature of the room. Dark silk pillows adorned the matching silk bed sheets, and you could only imagine how comfortable they would be on your skin.

You turned to face König who had put a shirt on somewhere amidst your gawking at his home.

“I didn’t think your room would be so…” You trailed off, gesturing at the space around you.

“Delicate?” He offered, self deprecation ringing through his tone.

“Nice,” you finished. “I was going to say nice.”

A small smile finally graced his lips, the first one you’d seen all night. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have thought he sounded self-conscious about the space he’d designed.

“I spend a lot of time here,” he shrugged as he offered you a beanbag. “I wanted it to be… nice.”

You took a seat, sighing as the tension in your body dissipated instantly. König stretched those long legs out as he got comfortable atop his own bag across from you.

“Why don’t you get out more, there’s plenty to do around here,” you mused.

König chuckled darkly, “people don’t like me very much around here, Birdy.”

The mood dampened at that, the energy in the room shifting. His green gaze had lost the softness that you’d almost grown accustomed to, becoming guarded instead. You wish you’d just held your tongue.

“What did you want to talk about?” König asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

You swallowed thickly, bracing yourself for another shift of his attitude- this time to anger. You weren’t afraid of his frustration, not anymore. God knows that you’d seen enough of it directed at you to know that you were physically safe. Despite that knowledge you still hated seeing it with every fiber of your being.

“I want to tell you about a mission I did a while back,” you said shakily. “Then I want you to help me figure out whether it might be connected to everything that’s… happened.”

König’s eyes narrowed, darting to the door and back. He stood to his feet quickly and you flinched as he brushed past you. You turned to look over your shoulder at him, surely he wasn’t walking out of his own room.

“I thought we agreed to drop it,” he growled beneath his breath and you weren’t sure whether he was talking to himself or you. He was rummaging through his desk irritatedly, muttering as he worked. “Of course you didn’t drop it. Why would you? Let’s all die together!”

Soft music began to play and you raised your eyebrows as he placed a speaker against the door.

“What, are you setting the mood?” You snarked, settling back into your bag as he returned to his. He shot you a withering glare.

“It’s so that no one hears us as you, once again, try to get us killed by talking about this on base.” He hissed, propping himself up.

You rolled your eyes at him but you knew he was right. It would be more suspicious if the both of you had gone on an excursion into town together, you’d have all eyes on you. There weren’t many places for you to approach him about information but it seems all the places you have were wrong.

“Tell me about the mission,” he sighed though his nose. The frown lines on his forehead softening as you nodded.

“This mission was, and is, highly classified. You cannot tell a soul about this.” You warned, watching him earnestly. It was König’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Yes, I will try my hardest to not tell all of my best friends in the 141.”

You shot him a withering glare.

“Fine,” he groaned. “Obviously I will not tell anybody, Birdy.”

You nodded, satisfied with his response, before launching into the details of the mission.

“Alpha 1-1 to Bravo 1, SITREP, over.”

“Bravo 1 in position, green status, over.”

“Bravo 1, maintain position. Payload incoming. Alpha 1-1 out.

You drew a deep breath, taking in the view a final time beyond the scope of your rifle. You’d perched up on the high ground, neatly hidden between wiry bushes and dirt mounds. The U.S forward operating base, its entrance, and the arterial road in, were all at your mercy.

Your mission was to provide cover for a high value payload and offer additional defense to the U.S FOB while it received. For a black bag operation it was deceptively simple. Then again, you had no idea what the payload was. You’d been told that the objective was to protect a Shadow Company squad while they “delivered the milk.”

You weren’t important enough to be privy to more than that.

A dust trail in the distance indicated the payload’s approach and you set to work. Thermal imaging provided you a clear picture of the incoming convoy as it cleared the crest. To your alarm there were only three vehicles before you, for such precious cargo you thought that there’d be a larger security detail.

There was a civilian blocking the route ahead of them that you’d raised concern about prior. U.S soldiers had been dispatched from the base to remove him but were thus far unsuccessful. Your stomach tightened as the convoy slowed to a halt 350 yards from your position.

As one of the Shadow members dismounted their vehicle you couldn’t shake your rising paranoia. You felt the hairs on your arms raise and your skin prickle- a sniper’s sixth sense. You turned your sights to the crest the convoy had appeared from.

There was something very, very wrong.

You watched the crest carefully, praying that you were paranoid.

But, you never were.

“Sierra 1, contact rear, near ambush!”

No sooner than the callout had left your lips, the incoming vehicles opened fire.

Chaos erupted the way it usually did in war. The screams, the callouts falling on deaf ears, the gunfire- it all blurred, really. The only thing you could truly hear was your own breath. Every inhale was steady and your heart followed in suit, a steadfast sniper was the most accurate.

And there was a reason that you were the best.

One by one they fell. Amidst the cloud of moon dust and the flurried movements you could see everything, and everyone, as clear as day. The floor was littered with bodies, men from both sides ironically meeting the same end.

A blinding flash forced your eyes shut as your scope lit up. The explosion rocked the earth beneath your stomach and you knew then that the fight was lost. An RPG blast had ended it all in an instant, obliterating the men you were protecting. Limbs, shrapnel, and wreckage were all that remained of Shadow Squad.

Your teeth were clenched tight enough to cramp your jaw. You couldn’t get a shot with the enemy operators hidden behind the cargo.

“Bravo 1, don’t let them take that fucking payload!”

Shepherd's voice was desperate, a growing hysteria that you’d never heard from him before.

“I don’t have a shot,” you ground out through your teeth.

Between Graves and Shepherd barking half-baked orders down the line, there was little coherency.

The mission objective was a monumental failure and an unjustifiable amount of lives had been lost that day, along with the payload. There was only one survivor of the ground assault, a blessing in itself. Dipaolo had been knocked unconscious in his vehicle after the RPG explosion and assumed dead by the enemy.

You had tried to talk to Dipaolo briefly while waiting for your transport home. He’d been mumbling to himself dazedly in the back corner of the medical room for hours when you approached him.

“Dipaolo?...” You trailed off. The man had lost his entire squad in one hit, he’d woken up to their blood on his face and their limbs scattered across the dirt. No amount of experience can give you the right words to say to a man like that.

His hazel gaze met yours, distant and tired.

“What have we done?” He whispered.

Your tongue dried in your mouth and you could only stare at him in response. You’d failed is what you’d done. You’d failed this man and his men and you couldn’t protect them.

“We’re so fucked,” he shook his head. “We are so fucked.”

“What-” you’d barely choked out the word before he grabbed your wrist roughly. You yelped as Dipaolo pulled you in close, the smell of sweat and blood on his skin. He reeked of death.

“Do you know what we’ve fucking done, Birdy?” The Shadow hissed through gritted teeth as you tugged uselessly against his grip. “Do you know what we just fucking gave them?”

“Let go,” you rasped. Panic began to rise in your chest when his gaze turned hysterical.

The door behind you flung open but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the man before you. His grip tightened as he flicked his sights to the medics entering the room.

“Do you know what we’ve done, Birdy? Do you know what we gave them?” His words blurred together desperately. “We’re fucked! You hear me?”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Relief flooded your chest as the returning medic inserted himself between you and the crumbling soldier. “Let’s just back up for a second.”

You ripped your arm from his grip and immediately turned to leave, your skin burning where you’d been detained. You tried to tune out Dipaolo's screams as you left the room but this wasn’t a battlefield and you had no rifle- you heard it all.

“We are dead!” The Shadow’s voice broke from behind you. “You and me, Birdy, we’re dead!”

König’s face was stony as he leaned back into his seat.

The silence following your story was heavy and your mouth was dry. You couldn’t remember the last time that you’d spoken so much in one sitting.

“Birdy,” König mused, “when was that mission?”

“A while back, a few months I’d say,” it was a rough estimate. “I’d have to check my dates.”

König shook his head, green eyes flashing with alarm. “How long did it happen before our… incident?”

You blinked slowly, taking in a deep breath. Your heart dropped to your stomach and it was as though König knew what you were going to say before you said it.

“It was the last mission I had…” you trailed off shakily. You felt like you were going to vomit.

König’s eyes hardened as he voiced the realization that you had both come to.

“It was the last mission you did before I was sent to kill you, Birdy.”

#konig x reader #könig cod #könig x reader #könig call of duty #König #konig modern warfare #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig cod #modern warfare 2 #mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty #anything verse #anything cod

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soulofapatrick · 1 year ago

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Protect You - Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Summary: You come into work injured and Hotch accidentally outs your relationship

Words: 1.8K

Warnings: None really

Notes: I honestly don't know where this one came from but enjoy hehe

Y/N’s POV

As I step into the familiar confines of the BAU bullpen, a sigh of relief escapes my lips upon noticing it’s only Spencer present as the others always arrive later. Hotch and Rossi must be holed up in their offices, shielding them from witnessing the bruised left side of my face and the split lip that I’m trying to conceal with my hair, keeping my head down. I would try make-up but they’re profilers, we’re profilers, there’s no point hiding any of it as they’ll work it out.

Every moment reminds me of the ache throbbing on my face, a constant reminder of the altercation that occurred early this morning. I try to mask the discomfort with a tight-lipped smile, but I know Spencer sees through it the moment his gaze flickers up from the file he’s absorbed in. His eyes widen in concern, and he’s on his feet so fast his chair clatters to the ground, abandoning his document to rush to my side.

I appreciate his silent understanding, his quick grasp of the situation without needing an explanation. It's moments like these that remind me why the BAU feels like family.

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice is gentle, his concern palpable as he takes in my appearance, eyes flickering over the bruises, assessing whether I need medical or not, “What happened to you?”

I offer a weak shrug, sliding onto my desk so Spencer can slide into my chair like we usually sit, waiting for Emily, JJ and Morgan to arrive, “Oh just a little accident.” I murmur, trying to downplay the severity of it, though the pain pulses with each word. Spencer raises his eyebrows, scoffing lightly, drawing a heavy sigh from me, I relent, knowing I can’t actually keep it from my best friend, “Jessica might have found me in Hotch’s bed this morning after he left to be here early,” I pause, letting that sink in first, the fact I was in our boss’ bed, “She… well, she punched me and I just left her… she’s still grieving and it’s been just over a year now…”

Spencer's hand finds mine, a silent gesture of solidarity amidst the chaos. And in that moment, I'm grateful for his unwavering support, his quiet strength anchoring me to reality when everything feels like it's spiralling out of control, “Are you going to tell Hotch?”

Before I can respond, the authoritative timbre of Hotch’s voice cuts through the air, drawing my gaze towards his office. Instinctively, I turn my head away, a futile attempt to shield him from the truth of what his ex-sister-in-law had down to me. But it’s too late. The damage is already written across my bruised face, a stark reminder of the violence that had erupted in the early hours of the morning.

Hotch strides into the bullpen, his gaze sweeping over the room before settling on me, his expression a mixture of concern and confusion. "Tell me what?" His voice is clipped, demanding answers that I'm not ready to give. Spencer gets up from my chair and moves over to where the coffee station is, staying within hearing distance but giving us enough privacy.

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of Hotch's gaze bearing down on me like a heavy burden. "It's nothing, Hotch," I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper as I keep my head bowed, unwilling to meet his gaze. But I can sense his skepticism, his unwavering determination to uncover the truth lurking beneath my hesitant words.

Before I can protest further, Hotch grips my chin with a gentle finger and thumb, forcing me to raise my face and meet his gaze. The shock that flashes across his features sends a shiver down my spine, his expression morphing from concern to horror, then to simmering anger barely contained beneath the surface.

His voice is low, a dangerous undercurrent lacing his words as he practically growls, “Who did this to you?”

I try to shake my head free from his grip but he won’t let me, cognac eyes full of anger as he searches my face. Every part of my wants to submit to him but I can’t ruin the last bit of Haley he has left by telling him and he finally sighs. He takes a risk and presses his forehead to mine, eyes closing and taking a deep breath before he’s letting me go and taking a step back just as the bullpen doors open. With one final lingering look he turns to the others and tells them to meet him in the meeting room in ten.

As Spencer intercepts Hotch on his way back to his office, a sense of foreboding settles over the bullpen, amplifying the tension already thick in the air. I watch, heart sinking, as Spencer murmurs something to Hotch, the words lost in the charged atmosphere. Hotch's head snaps up, his entire demeanour shifting in an instant. Even from behind, I can sense the fury radiating off him, a palpable force that sends a shiver down my spine. Whatever Spencer said has stirred a tempest within Hotch, one that threatens to consume everything in its path.

Before I can comprehend the gravity of the situation, Derek's voice breaks through the tense silence, his concern evident in the way he addresses me. "Oh shittt, what happened to you, baby girl?" he asks, his usually jovial tone replaced by genuine worry.

Spencer slumps back into my chair, his expression somber as Derek rounds the desk to his, drawing Emily and JJ's attention in the process. In moments like these, the boundaries between colleagues blur, replaced by the unspoken bonds of friendship and camaraderie that define us as a team. They crowd around me, their questions a chorus of concern as they inspect the bruises marring my skin. Despite their genuine care, I can feel the weight of their stares, the unspoken questions lingering in the air like a heavy fog.

Just as I'm about to ask them to drop it, a voice cuts through the chaos, echoing from Hotch's office with a force that silences the entire bullpen. "HOW DARE YOU LAY A HAND ON HER?!" Hotch's voice booms, despite his door and blinds being shut, reverberating off the walls with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt.

A stunned silence settles over the bullpen, the air thick with tension as Hotch's voice echoes through the confines of his office, despite the closed door and drawn blinds. His words hang in the air like a heavy pall, commanding attention and demanding justice. The sudden yelling draws Rossi out of his office, his expression a mix of concern and confusion as he surveys the scene unfolding before him. It's rare to witness Hotch lose his composure, and even rarer to hear him raise his voice with such raw intensity.

But, as the seconds tick by, the tension in the air becomes almost palpable, a tangible force that hangs heavy around us. We exchange uncertain glances, the weight of Hotch's anger casting a shadow over the once tranquil atmosphere of the bullpen. And then, just as quickly as it began, Hotch's voice rises again, the sound muffled by the closed door of his office. Despite the distance, his words carry with them a sense of finality, a declaration of his unwavering resolve, “I CAN DATE WHO I WANT, YOU DON’T GET TO DICTATE IF Y/N IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.”

As Hotch's voice reverberates through the closed door of his office, his words cut through the heavy silence like a knife. The weight of his declaration hangs heavy in the air, leaving us all stunned into silence.

Derek's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his mouth slightly agape as he processes the implications of Hotch's words. Emily's eyes widen, a mixture of shock and admiration reflecting in her gaze as she exchanges a quick glance with JJ. Spencer, ever the observer, remains stoic, his expression unreadable as he absorbs the gravity of Hotch's statement.

The realisation settles over us like a heavy blanket, each of us grappling with the implications of Hotch's unwavering resolve. In that moment, it's clear that he's not just defending my honour; he's asserting his autonomy, refusing to be swayed by the opinions or judgments of others. And as the echoes of his words fade into the background, we're left in a stunned silence, the weight of the moment pressing down upon us like a tangible force. For a brief moment, the chaos of the world outside fades away, replaced by the quiet intensity of the bullpen.

But our reverie is short-lived as Hotch reemerges from his office, his face flushed with anger and frustration. His gaze sweeps over us, a silent command to gather ourselves and move forward. Without a word, he gestures towards the conference room, his authoritative presence brooking no argument.

As the rest of the team practically rushes towards the conference room, driven by the urgency of the moment, I find myself lingering behind. The weight of everything that has transpired settles heavily upon my shoulders, anchoring me to the spot as I struggle to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling within me. I remain perched on the edge of my desk, head bowed, my hands suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. The sound of familiar footsteps draws nearer, the rhythmic cadence echoing through the empty space of the bullpen. And then, like a beacon in the darkness, Hotch's shiny smart shoes appear in my line of sight, his presence casting a warm glow against the backdrop of uncertainty.

He says my name softly, a gentle reminder that I'm not alone in this moment of vulnerability. I lift my gaze to meet his, finding solace in the depths of his unwavering gaze. There's a tenderness in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the tumultuous journey we've embarked upon together.

In that moment, he looks at me like I've hung the stars, like I'm a goddess deserving of reverence and adoration. It's a gaze that speaks volumes, a silent confession of the depth of his feelings. And then, with a gentle touch, his hand reaches out to cup my unbruised cheek, his touch a balm against the ache of the morning's events. In the stillness of the bullpen, he draws me into a soft kiss, a silent promise of solidarity and unwavering support. In that fleeting moment, time stands still, the chaos of the world fading away as we find solace in each other's embrace. And as we pull away, the weight of the world feels a little lighter, buoyed by the strength of the bond that binds us together.

With a silent understanding, we rise from the tumult of the morning, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead. And as we make our way towards the conference room, hand in hand, I know that no matter what the future holds, we'll face it together, united by the unbreakable ties of love and loyalty.

Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@guacam011y @rosaliedepp @kajjaka

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oneforthemunny · 7 months ago

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autumn changes |mafia!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you and eddie take bea to the farmer's market to pick out a pumpkin.

still on my fall shit lol. feeling hormonal and longing for a child, so a domestic soft dad!mafia!eddie x mom!reader fic was in order bc i said so lol. very fluffy and sweet.

“What about the big white ones?” You pointed across the aisle, stepping towards the wooden crate filled with ‘Cinderella Pumpkins’ as the chalk sign read.

“Oh, look at these Bea, you know what they call these?” You cooed at the little toddler, bouncing her lightly on your hip, her cheek pressed to your shoulder, knuckling her eyes sleepily. The three year old was still a little grumpy about being woken up from her car ride nap.

“Baby,” Eddie hissed, closing in on you, eyes scanning the crowds. “Stay close to me, alright?”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re right here, Eddie.” Your tone clipped, shoulders tight with irritation. You knew his protectiveness came from a place of love, pure adoration and devotion for you and Bea both. Still, it was irritating.

Eddie’s narrowed gaze pierced through you, even behind his darkened sunglasses. A tattooed hand sliding over your waist, squeezing your hip lightly in warning, the same way he used to when you two had first started dating. It sent a chilling thrill of excitement to your core, glancing over your shoulder at him with a small grin.

“Look, Bumble Bee, these are called Cinderella Pumpkins.” Your voice lifted in a soft coo that had Eddie’s chest tightening with affection.

“Princess?” Bea’s eyes lit up, perking up from her sullen state at the mention of one of her beloved Disney Princesses. Though she was favoring Jasmine these days, she was still a fan of any of them.

“Mhm,” You hummed, holding her close to your chest. “What do you think, should we get those?”

“Yes,” Bea wiggled, trying to push out of your arms, ready to get down and run around. “Get-Get the big one, Mommy.” She pointed a finger over towards the rather large white pumpkin on the ground.

“The big one?” You gasped lightly, bouncing her on your hip so she shook with laughter, giggles trilling out in a soft screech.

“You gotta ask Daddy if we can get the big one.” You muttered lightly, turning towards Eddie. “He’s the one who’s gotta carry it.”

Eddie’s lips curled in a half smile, your cheek pressed to Bea’s, face to face; the two of you looked so alike. He always told you that. You’d roll your eyes, scoff and insist she was his twin, but he saw more of you in her every day.

“Can we get the big one, Daddy?” Bea reached for Eddie, practically launching herself in his arms. “Please? I asked really, really nicely.” She curled into him, cheek pressed to his shoulder, looking up at him with big brown eyes rounded so sweetly- a look she definitely got from you.

“You did ask nicely, thank you.” Eddie hummed, running a hand over her messy hair, tangled from the wind. “What do you think, sweetheart? Do you want one or two for the porch?” He looked at you, already reaching for his wallet in the back of his jeans.

“Probably two. I can put them on either side of the door.” Eddie passed you his wallet, keeping a careful eye on you as you walked to the front to pay. He scanned the crowds again, letting Bea babble away to him about the different things she saw, humming in response lightly as he watched. Eddie knew Gareth was lurking around somewhere, no doubt scanning the crowds just as he was.

“Hey, Ed,” You called, breaking him from his trance. “She said they have wheelbarrows you can borrow to load them to the car if you want.”

“Oh,” Bea squealed, turning towards Eddie so quickly she almost hit him in the face. “Can I ride in the wheelbarrow?”

“Ride in the wheelbarrow?” You parroted with a grin. “Why do you wanna ride in that, hm? Are you a pumpkin now?”

“Nooo,” Bea giggled, leaning back to look at you. “I just wanna ride in it.”

You eyed her playfully. “Hm, maybe if you ask nicely.”

“Please?” Bea added quickly, already squirming to get out of Eddie’s arms, sending his heart lurching with panic.

You didn’t seem bothered, pulling the wheelbarrow off the ground, maneuvering it towards the pumpkins. “Fine, but let me load these in first, ok?”

“Let me get them.” Eddie clicked, reaching a hand out to stop you before you could wrangle the obnoxiously large pumpkin up. “I got it, baby. You hold her.” He passed Bea to you, bending down to lift the pumpkin, hoping his rings didn’t stab it like last time.

“Are you going to help me decorate when we get home?” You cooed to Bea, swaying her lightly like you did when she was a newborn. You knew she was too old, all the parenting books told you that, but it was a habit- one that soothed the both of you.

“Yes,” Bea grinned, curling in closer to you. “I’ll help you, Mama. We can put the bats up.”

Eddie’s heart burst with warm joy at her soft sing-songy voice. For all his hesitation and terror about having a baby, he never knew he could love something so much. From the moment she was born, all seven pounds of screaming baby, he’d been so overwhelmed with a feeling of adoration he couldn’t begin to explain. Everyday it seemed to grow, for the both of you- his girls.

Bea settled on top of the pumpkins, gripping the sides as Eddie pushed slowly over the graveled parking lot, her tiny giggles and squeals of laughter leaving you both beaming with pride.

“Mama,” Bea turned, leaving both you and Eddie cringing in fear, for a moment, scared she would fall. “Can we make the pun’kins into carriages like on the real Cinderella?”

“Sure, baby. I think we can craft that.” You smiled, speed stepping to stand beside her, a hand on her back to steady her.

“We can put bats on them too so-so it’s scary.” Bea giggled. “Right? Because Halloweens ‘sposed to be scary, right, Daddy?” She turned to look at Eddie over her shoulder.

“That’s right.” Eddie grinned, making his way towards the sleek black car in the parking lot- bigger than the luxury sports cars he had in the past. Safer now and bigger for a baby, his baby.

You lifted Bea out of the wheelbarrow, carrying her around towards the backseat to buckle her into place, while Eddie loaded the pumpkins in. The car ride back was much louder than the one there, Bea babbling on and on to you and Eddie about Halloween, her costume, the decorations, what candy Grandpa Wayne would have this year.

Eddie held your hand in between the console, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he allowed himself to relax just for a moment. He let himself feel at peace, safe in the serenity of the car with his family.

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mssalo · 5 months ago

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safety - Part: IV

Summary: After years of isolation, Joel Miller's life revolves around control and keeping danger at bay, his past as a soldier leaving him constantly on edge. But when a sweet, soft-spoken young woman starts working at the supply store, her innocence stirs something inside him. Despite his efforts to remain detached, Joel becomes obsessed with keeping her safe from the dangers he’s certain are lurking everywhere.

As his protective instincts morph into darker desires, the lines between safeguarding her and possessing her begin to blur.

Warnings will vary by chapter depending on the content.

Warnings: Dark!Joel, 18+ MDNI, Joel has major Trauma/PTSD, Mentions of war and combat-related trauma, Emotional manipulation, Power dynamics, Noncon/dubcon elements, Unstable mental state, Reader feeling conflicted, Explicit sexual content, graphic descriptions of sex, oral (both giving and receiving), rough sex, praise kink, breeding kink, unprotected sex, Dom/sub dynamics, Joel’s possessiveness, Breeding kink, refusal to pull out, Overstimulation. Joel shall get therapy soon.

11k, Smut.

Enjoy!

Part I Part II Part III Part V

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

Joel’s truck rumbled to a stop in front of his house, the engine cutting out abruptly. His grip on the steering wheel remained tight, knuckles white with tension.

His eyes scanned the perimeter, darting from the treeline to the empty yard, searching for any sign of danger.

They were still out there.

They had to be. He’d seen them—felt them lurking, waiting.

“They’re here for you,” he muttered under his breath, his voice shaky.

His mind raced, replaying every shadow, every phantom figure he’d seen darting between the trees back at camp. The thought made his chest tighten, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He couldn’t let them take you.

Not now. Not ever.

“Joel,” your soft voice broke through the fog, but it didn’t ground him like it normally would.

He turned to you, eyes wide and wild, still scanning the darkness around them. He was sure they were close.

Too close.

“We need to get inside,” he rasped, gripping your arm a little too tightly. “They’re still out there.”

Without waiting for your reply, he stepped out of the truck and moved to your side, yanking the door open and pulling you out with a desperate grip.

His hand never left your arm as he ushered you up the steps and into the house, his eyes still flicking over his shoulder, double-checking that you're aren't being followed.

Once inside, he slammed the door shut and bolted it, his chest heaving as he stood there, back pressed against the door like it was the only thing holding him upright.

“Joel…” you began, your voice gentle, as if speaking too loudly might set him off. “There’s no one out there.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes still wide and searching, scanning the dark corners of the room, still expecting the worst.

His breath came out in heavy, uneven bursts, his body still coiled tight with fear.

“I’m okay,” you said again, this time placing your hand gently on his chest, trying to pull him back to you.

“You saved me, Joel. You got me out. I’m safe now.”

But he couldn’t hear you. His mind was still trapped in the nightmare, the vivid images of shadows lurking, of something coming for you.

It was like he was back in the thick of it—in the chaos, where he couldn’t control anything.

“They’ll come back,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. “They always come back.”

You shook your head, moving closer to him, your hand still pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath.

“No one’s coming for me, Joel. It’s just us. We’re safe now.”

He turned to you, finally meeting your eyes, but his face was still tight with panic. “You don’t know that,” he said, his voice cracking. “You don’t understand… what’s out there.”

His grip on your arm tightened again, his fear morphing into something darker, something possessive.

He pulled you closer, his hand slipping to the small of your back, holding you against him as if the proximity alone could keep you safe.

“I’m not letting them take you,” he muttered, his breath hot against your ear.

Your heart ached at the desperation in his voice, at the raw terror he was fighting to keep at bay. He wasn’t just afraid for you—he was afraid of failing you, of losing you to something he couldn’t stop.

His trauma had wrapped itself around him, choking him, blinding him to the fact that you were alone. That there was no danger but the one inside his mind.

“I’m okay,” you repeated softly, your arms slowly wrapping around him in return. “You did it, Joel. You saved me. We’re safe.”

He was trembling now, his body pressed against yours in a way that felt more desperate than protective. He buried his face in your neck, his breath ragged, like he was trying to hold back a flood of emotion.

He tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer, as if he needed to feel every inch of your body against his to believe that you were still there, that you were real. “I wasn’t fast enough… last time.”

You stroked the back of his neck gently, your own heart pounding, trying to steady him, to bring him back to you. “You were fast enough this time. You got me out. You saved me.”

Joel’s breathing was uneven as he held you close, his face buried against the crook of your neck.

The scent of you—soft and sweet—seeped into his senses, grounding him in a way that nothing else had in years.

His chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, but the panic slowly started to ebb, replaced by something darker, something far more possessive. He inhaled deeply, letting your scent fill his lungs, chasing away the chaos in his mind.

You murmured softly, your voice a gentle lull in the storm. “You got me out. You saved me.”

Your words washed over him like a balm, but they weren’t enough. Not this time. He needed more than words. He needed to feel you—to hold onto something real, something tangible that would keep him from slipping back into the dark.

His lips brushed against your neck, a desperate, aching need driving him. "I need to feel something real."

You stiffened slightly in his arms, your breath catching as his mouth moved along your skin, soft at first but growing more insistent. Your heart pounded, torn between fear and something you couldn't quite place.

His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips continued to travel down your neck, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest.

He pressed harder, kissing your neck with a hunger that bordered on desperation. His teeth grazed your skin, and a shiver ran through you, a strange mix of fear and guilt knotting in your stomach.

"Joel…" you whispered, your voice trembling. You weren’t sure what to say, weren’t sure how to stop him without setting him off again.

But he didn’t stop.

His hands roamed over your back, gripping you tighter, as if he was terrified you would slip away.

"I need this," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I need you."

Your pulse quickened, the tension between you thick and suffocating.

You should pull away, you knew that.

Something about this didn’t feel right. But you didn’t move. You stayed there, your breath shaky as his lips continued to trace over your neck, his hands pressing you closer still.

You felt bad for wanting to pull away. He was hurting, and you could feel it in the way he clung to you. He needed something from you—something real to hold onto. But the weight of his desire was overwhelming, pressing down on you, making your heart race with something that wasn’t entirely fear… but wasn’t entirely comfort, either.

“Joel, I—” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but he silenced you with a soft growl, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Don't," he murmured, his voice dark, heavy with emotion. "Don't say anything. Just… let me feel you."

His breath was hot against your skin, and you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted, a shiver running down your spine. Part of you was scared—scared of how far this might go, scared of how much control he was losing. But part of you felt something else.

Something that made you stay rooted to the spot, letting him take what he needed, even though you weren’t sure you should.

And Joel… Joel wasn’t letting go. He needed you more than ever now, and that desperate, consuming need was spiraling out of control.

A shiver ran through you, and you couldn’t help the way your body tensed under his hold. You had liked him before—all those glances, those quiet moments between you in the store. But this?

This was different. This wasn’t the Joel you’d seen before. He was someone else now, lost in whatever darkness had taken over.

"Joel," you whispered, trying to ground him, trying to bring him back. "… I’m okay."

But as the words left your mouth, you knew he wasn’t fully hearing you. Maybe this was what he needed to calm down, to feel like he was back in control.

Joel held you tight, his mind a tangled mess of emotions. You were speaking softly, trying to soothe him, telling him that you were okay, that he’d saved you. But the words barely made it through the fog in his head. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had failed you—that somehow, the danger wasn’t over yet.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered against your skin, his voice raw and broken. “You don’t understand how close I came to losing you. How close they were.”

You were the only thing that kept the demons at bay, and he needed you to stay. Needed you to hold onto him, to tell him he wasn’t losing his grip.

“Joel,” you whispered again, your voice trembling. “I’m okay. You don’t have to—”

But his grip only tightened, his breath coming out in heavy, ragged bursts. “Just let me touch you,” he growled, his voice thick with desire.

He wasn’t going to stop.

And maybe… maybe you didn’t want him to.

His hands roamed your back, sliding up under your shirt, his touch possessive, desperate. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, his breath hot and uneven as he pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

“You’re mine to protect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Mine to keep safe.”

Your mind raced, torn between the fear of his intensity and the way your body responded to his touch.

You knew he wasn’t himself, that the trauma was pulling him under, but the heat of his body, the roughness of his hands, made it hard to think.

“I couldn’t save them,” he whispered, his voice cracking as his hands roamed over your body. “But I’ll save you. I swear it.”

He needed this—needed you—like you were the only thing tethering him to reality.

His grip was firm, almost desperate, as though he was afraid that if he let you go, you would vanish into the dark corners of his mind, swallowed by the dangers he imagined lurking just out of sight.

Then you tilted your chin up, your lips brushing lightly against his, and that soft contact undid him.

The second he kissed you, he felt the world steady beneath his feet. Your lips were soft, pliant, and the warmth of your mouth was a balm to the cold storm that raged inside him.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring everything into the kiss—the fear, the hunger, the overwhelming need to protect you, to claim you, to keep you close. His hands slid up, cradling your face gently as though you might slip away if he didn’t hold you just right.

The softness of your skin under his fingertips made him feel more human, more in control. His thumb brushed over the curve of your jaw, savoring how delicate you felt against his roughness.

You tasted like something familiar, something he didn’t realize he’d craved until now, and each press of your lips seemed to bring him closer to you, tethering him to something real, something that wasn’t his own spiraling thoughts.

He kissed you again, deeper, more insistent, needing to feel your softness against him, needing to lose himself in the comfort you provided. His mind raced, caught between the desire to protect and the hunger to possess, but as your lips moved with his, it all blurred together.

Protect. Keep. Claim. It didn’t matter.

You were soft, pliant, and here. You were real. And that, more than anything, made him feel like he could breathe again.

His breath grew ragged as his hands continued their journey over your body, each soft curve beneath his palms pulling him deeper into his need for you. You were everything he craved.

His lips pressed harder against yours, his mind clouded by the hunger building inside him.

He groaned softly as your body shifted against him, your hips brushing his, and he felt his cock throb, hard and insistent, pressed against you. The sensation sent a rush of heat through him, overwhelming the last of his restraint.

His grip on you tightened slightly, pulling you even closer as though he couldn’t bear the thought of any distance between you.

His hand slipped to the small of your back, pressing you against his hard cock growing between you.

His hands trembled slightly as he began to undo the buttons of your shirt, his breath uneven as his lips hovered close to yours. Joel’s fingers were rough against the soft fabric, but every movement was slow, deliberate.

Each button he undid revealed more of your skin, more of the warmth that anchored him. His hands moved to your shoulders, slipping the fabric of your shirt down your arms, exposing more of you to him.

His eyes darkened with hunger, but also with a fear that hadn’t quite faded.

“I need to see you,” he murmured, his voice thick, hoarse.

His lips found your collarbone, kissing the bare skin as his hands moved to the waistband of your jeans.

You exhaled softly, your hand moving to his chest as if to steady him, trying to reach him through the haze of his obsession.

His fingers fumbled with the button of your jeans, his need overwhelming his coordination, but you didn’t stop him.

He couldn’t stop himself.

His cock throbbed as he worked the fabric down your hips, revealing more of your softness, more of the body he needed to feel, to protect, to claim.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice almost a growl as he pulled you closer, pressing your bare skin against him.

Joel’s lips found yours again, demanding, needy, while his hands roamed your body. His desire remained, cock throbbing with each touch, a reminder of how much he needed you—how much he needed to make sure you were his.

As Joel stepped back just enough to take you in, his breath caught in his throat.

You stood before him in nothing but your underwear, and it was like you’d stepped out of one of his dreams, a vision so perfect it almost didn’t seem real.

Your body—every curve, every soft line—drew his eyes with an almost painful intensity. Your breasts, full and round, strained against the lace of your bra, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring, his mouth dry at the sight.

The way your waist dipped beneath the fabric only accentuated the fullness of your hips, your ass curved and firm, begging to be touched. You were the embodiment of everything he’d ever desired, every fantasy he’d ever had, standing there, soft and vulnerable, but so utterly tempting it made his chest tighten with need.

You were both angelic and sensual, an impossible combination of sweet and sinful. Everything about you pulled at him—your softness, your curves, the way you seemed to fit so perfectly against him.

And as he looked at you, standing there in your delicate underwear, all he could think was how much he wanted you, needed you.

His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out any remaining slivers of rational thought. You were right there—so soft, so perfect, standing before him like you were made just for him.

And for the first time in so long, he felt the rush of control, the heady sense of finally being able to hold something real, something that wouldn’t slip away or explode in chaos like everything else in his life.

In the war, everything had been chaos, spiraling out of control no matter how much he fought it.

The blood, the noise, the way every second could change in an instant.But this moment, with you in front of him, was something he could hold onto, something he could control.

Without a word, his hands moved to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Your soft gasp against his neck sent a shockwave through his body as he held you up, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist.

The feel of you, warm and pliant against him, made the tension in his chest ease just enough to remind him how much he craved this—how much he needed this.

With you in his arms, he carried you toward the bedroom, his steps steady but filled with urgency.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, your soft breaths hot against his ear, and every sound you made, every movement, only drove him closer to the edge.

The door to the bedroom came too slowly, his body buzzing with a need so intense he could barely think.

No one else. No chaos, no uncertainty—just you.

With a gentle but insistent movement, he laid you down on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours.

You looked up at him, soft and breathless, and he felt the rush of power, of control, surge through him. Joel’s breath caught as he hovered over you, his hands roaming your body with reverence, as if he couldn’t believe you were really there beneath him, all softness and warmth.

He kissed your shoulder first, slow and deliberate, letting his lips linger on your skin before trailing down to the curve of your collarbone. The taste of you, the way your body reacted to each kiss, was intoxicating.

“So damn pretty,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. His breath was hot against your skin, and you felt every word like a promise.

He pressed his lips to your neck, feeling your pulse quicken beneath his mouth, the heat rising between you. “You have no idea, do you? What you do to me…”

He kissed you again, lower this time, letting his mouth explore the hollow of your throat, his hands tracing the curves of your hips. You let out a soft gasp, your fingers clutching the sheets as you arched slightly under his touch.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he murmured, his voice a little more hoarse. “I wanna hear you. Let me hear every damn sound you make.”

Your reaction only made him crave more, made him want to pull you further into this, to hear every gasp, every moan.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his lips trailing lower, skimming the swell of your breasts, his hands sliding up your sides, feeling every inch of you. “Every part of you, just… perfect.”

You blushed deeply, the color rising in your cheeks, and Joel felt his chest tighten at the sight. That blush—it reminded him of the first time he saw you, when you’d looked at him with those big eyes, your cheeks flushing the same way. You’d been nervous then, shy and unsure. But now? Now, you were his, and that blush only made him want you more.

He loved how the pink in your cheeks spread down your neck, how you couldn’t hide your reactions from him. You turned your head slightly, trying to hide the embarrassment that came with his compliments, but he wasn’t having it.

“Don’t hide from me,” he growled softly, his fingers tipping your chin back toward him, forcing you to look at him. “I wanna see every damn reaction.”

He kissed your lips gently, then moved back to your skin, his breath heavy as he pressed his mouth to your throat. “So beautiful. You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this. To have you. All of you.”

His mouth continued its slow exploration, pressing kisses to your hips, your thighs, every part of you that he could reach. Your body responded to every touch, every kiss, your breath coming quicker, your fingers tightening in the sheets as you bit your lip.

“I can feel how much you want this,” he whispered, his voice dark and full of intent. “Don’t hold back. I want it all, I need it all.”

You let out a soft whimper, your eyes fluttering closed, and he couldn’t help but grin at your reaction.

“That’s it, baby… let go. Let me take care of you.”

His hand slid back up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin, that familiar blush that he loved so much.

Your breath hitched as Joel’s lips continued their slow journey down your body, each kiss more deliberate than the last. Your mind was spinning, and you knew you had to say something, even though your body responded instinctively to every touch, every kiss.

“Joel… maybe we should stop,” you murmured, your voice soft and uncertain, though your hands stayed tangled in his hair.

You bit your lip, trying to find the words as his kisses trailed lower, along your stomach, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’ve just… you’ve been stuck in an episode.”

Joel paused for a moment, his lips resting against your skin just above the waistband of your panties. His hands gripped your thighs gently, but firmly, holding you in place. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, dark with desire, and the way he looked at you sent a wave of heat rushing through you.

“I ain’t stuck,” he said softly, his voice husky and full of need. “This ain’t an episode. I know exactly what I’m doin’.”

His lips pressed another kiss, lower now, right at the edge of your underwear, his fingers tracing the fabric, teasing you. “And I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout this for too long to stop now.”

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as your hips instinctively shifted toward him, despite the doubt swirling in your mind. “Joel…”

But he was already moving, his lips brushing softly over your clothed pussy, the sensation both maddening and electrifying.

“I can see how much you want this too,” he murmured, his voice low and raspy as he pressed another kiss. “Don’t try to hide it.”

His breath was hot against you, and you could feel the gentle pressure as he kissed you through the thin fabric of your panties, a slow, deliberate motion that made you gasp.

“Shhh,” he soothed, his voice a low, possessive rumble as he pressed his mouth to you again, lingering a little longer this time. “You don’t need to say anything. Just let me make you feel good.”

“I need this… I need you.” His tongue flicked out, barely a hint, tracing the edge of you through the lace, sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made you arch slightly.

You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, your hands tightening in the sheets now as you tried to fight the pull of his touch. “That’s it, let me hear you.”

“Joel… maybe—” you started again, but your words trailed off as he kissed you again, more firmly this time, his tongue pressing slowly against the damp fabric, teasing you, tasting you.

His grip on your thighs tightened, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he whispered against you, his voice dark with need. “Not when you taste this good. Not when I’ve been waitin’ this long.”

His tongue dragged over you again, slow and purposeful, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he tasted you.

“Been wantin’ this for so long… you have no idea.”

Every kiss, every lick made you forget the hesitation, made you want more. The way his mouth moved against you, the way he talked, his words low and rough with hunger, made your mind clouded with need.

“You’re all I need,” he murmured, pressing another kiss, his tongue flicking out again as he licked you through the panties, savoring the taste of you. “Let me take care of you. Just you and me, baby.”

Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as Joel continued his slow, deliberate attention on your body. Every kiss, every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure rolling through you, making you tremble beneath his touch.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moans that kept slipping out, but the way he worked his mouth against your panties, teasing you relentlessly, made it impossible to stay quiet.

“Joel…” you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in the sheets, your body arching toward him as if you couldn’t stop yourself. “Oh god…”

Your hips bucked slightly as he applied more pressure, his mouth hot and persistent, licking you slowly through the lace, savoring every reaction you gave him.

The fabric was soaked now, your body betraying your desire, and you whimpered, the sound low and breathy, unable to stop the way you responded to him.

Then, suddenly, Joel pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering right over your heat.

For a moment, you thought he was going to stop, your body left aching for more, but instead, you felt him press his face against you, inhaling deeply, groaning as he took in your scent.

The sound he made was primal, raw, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck,” he growled against you, his voice thick with need and satisfaction. “Just like I remember.”

Your mind was still clouded by the intense pleasure, your breath coming in short bursts when his words broke through.

You blinked, trying to focus through the haze, and managed a weak, breathless, “Huh?”

Joel’s lips curled into a dark grin as he glanced up at you, his eyes filled with hunger and intent.

You opened your mouth to say something, but all that came out was a soft moan as he pressed his face into you again, groaning against you as if he couldn’t get enough.

Your body responded instinctively, your legs trembling, your hips pushing up toward him as your mind spun with a mix of pleasure and confusion.

“Joel…” you whimpered again, your voice barely a whisper, your body betraying you as it gave in completely to the sensations he was pulling from you.

Joel’s fingers moved with a slow, deliberate pace as he hooked them into the sides of your panties, his eyes never leaving your face.

Your breath caught, your body trembling beneath him, anticipation and uncertainty warring in your gaze.

But you didn’t stop him. You couldn’t.

Joel's breath grew heavier as his fingers slowly slid beneath the waistband of your panties, his touch deliberate, savoring every moment. You couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips as he tugged them down, his eyes dark and hungry as he peeled the fabric away from your skin, inch by inch.

His lips followed the motion, kissing your thighs as he uncovered you, groaning deep in his throat when the lace finally slipped past your knees.

He paused for a moment, taking you in, his eyes raking over you - seeing you for the first time.

His breath was shaky, his fingers gripping your thighs tightly, holding you open for him. A deep, guttural sound escaped him, full of desire and need.

"Goddamn," he growled, his voice thick with hunger. "Look at you. So fuckin' beautiful. So perfect."

His eyes were glued to you, dark and primal, like he couldn’t get enough.

He leaned down, his breath warm against you as he inhaled deeply, groaning with satisfaction, the sound vibrating through his chest.

“Fuckin’ heaven,” he muttered, the sound low and filled with filthy need. “You’re mine now, and I’m never lettin’ go.”

Then he dove in, his mouth pressing firmly against you, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that made you gasp out loud, your hips bucking toward him instinctively.

He groaned against you, the sound muffled by the way his tongue worked, feasting on you like a man starved, like he’d been waiting for this moment forever.

He didn’t hold back, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face deeper, his tongue circling and tasting you with relentless hunger.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned between breaths, his voice vibrating through your core. “Been waitin’ for this, darlin’, waitin’ to taste every inch of you.”

Your moans filled the room as his tongue worked you over, his lips sucking and licking with desperate need. You couldn’t hold back anymore, your hands gripping his hair as you arched against him, lost in the sensation of his mouth on you.

He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, devouring you with an intensity that made your toes curl, every filthy word he muttered against you sending you spiraling higher.

"You're mine," he rasped, his voice barely audible between licks, but the possessive tone was clear. "Only mine."

“Please…,” you whimpered, barely able to form the words between your gasps, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

Joel’s hunger for you only seemed to grow the longer he tasted you, his need for you overwhelming any shred of restraint he had left.

Joel growled low in his throat as he pulled back for a moment, his breath ragged. He took a long look at you, lips glistening with your wetness, his eyes filled with a raw hunger that bordered on madness.

He couldn’t tear himself away from the sight of you, couldn’t stop himself from wanting more. You were too perfect, too soft, too sweet for him to ever get enough.

“Goddamn,” he murmured, his drawl thicker now, rough with need. His fingers slid between your soft pussy lips, spreading you open even wider. “Look at this pretty pussy… so fuckin’ perfect. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

“So pretty, darlin’. Tastes so fuckin’ sweet.”

He lowered his head again, his mouth hovering just above you before he flicked his tongue out, tasting you slowly.

His groan was deep, guttural, vibrating through you as he buried his face between your legs once more.

“You taste so damn good,” he muttered between licks, his breath hot against your slick skin. “Sweetest thing I ever had.”

His lips found your clit, and he teased it with his tongue, swirling slow and deliberate, savoring your reactions. Then, without warning, he gently bit down, just enough to make you jolt.

You gasped loudly, your back arching, but the sharp sensation sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you, mixing with the heat already burning between your legs.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t ya?” he growled, his voice rougher now, his breath heavy as he pulled your hips closer, holding you tightly against his mouth. “This pussy is mine… ain’t nobody ever gonna have you like this. I’ll make sure of it.”

He groaned again, licking you harder now, his tongue working over you with a maddening precision.

Every taste of you drove him wilder, his obsession growing as he lost himself completely in you. He licked you slowly, almost reverently, savoring every second before spitting on you again, watching it glisten on your wet folds.

“So wet, so ready. This pussy’s made for me. Tastes so good, darlin’, I can’t fuckin’ stop.” He leaned in again, his tongue dragging over you in long, slow strokes before diving deeper, licking you with a desperate hunger.

His mouth was relentless, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as he feasted on you like a man starved. Joel groaned against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body, and your moans filled the room as you writhed beneath him.

“You taste like heaven,” he muttered between kisses, dripping with lust. He flicked his tongue over your clit again, biting it gently, making you gasp and tremble under his touch. “Ain’t never tasted anything this good.”

His eyes were dark, fixed on the place where his mouth had been, like he couldn’t get enough. He spread your legs wider, admiring you, completely obsessed with every inch of your body laid out before him.

“Look at this pretty cunt,” he growled, his voice thick with that southern twang, filled with raw desire. “Goddamn, darlin’, you’re perfect down here. Prettiest little pussy I ever laid eyes on.”

He spat on your clit with a roughness that made you gasp, the slick wetness mixing with what was already there. His fingers followed, spreading the spit over your folds, rubbing it with slow, deliberate strokes.

Every movement was slow and teasing, designed to drive you insane, and he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his fingers sliding over you, feeling how wet you were. “This pretty little clit, all swollen for me… You like it when I bite it, don’t ya? When I suck on this sweet clit?”

He groaned, the sound vibrating against you as his lips found your clit again.

This time, he sucked on it hard, his teeth grazing it just enough to send jolts of pleasure and pain through you. “Mm, yeah,” he grunted against you, his voice rough with lust. “This cunt tastes so goddamn good, baby“

He flicked his tongue over your clit, then bit down gently, sending another wave of pleasure coursing through you.

Your hips bucked up toward his mouth, your body responding to the way his tongue moved against you with relentless precision.

“That’s right, baby,” he drawled, his accent dripping through every word. “Let me taste all of ya. I wanna hear those pretty little moans while I eat this sweet cunt.”

He spat on you again, his hand rubbing it into your folds, his fingers working you while his mouth stayed focused on your clit.

He licked you from the bottom up, then focused on your clit again, sucking it hard, biting just enough to make you moan louder, your body trembling under his touch.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, his breath hot against you as he looked up briefly, his eyes glazed with hunger. “Ain’t nothin’ in this world better than this pretty cunt.”

“Joel,” you whimpered, your voice shaking. “I’m close… I’m so close.”

At your words, he growled against you, the vibrations sending a new wave of pleasure through you. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his lips wet and glistening as he flashed you a wicked grin.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasped, “Cum on my tongue, baby. I wanna taste all of it.”

Without hesitation, he latched onto your clit, sucking hard, his mouth working with a brutal rhythm.

His tongue flicked over your sensitive flesh again and again, while his nose pressed against you, creating a delicious pressure that had your body trembling beneath him.

He could feel you tensing, your thighs shaking as your moans grew louder, more desperate.

“Come on, baby,” he growled, his voice muffled as he sucked harder, his lips locked around your clit. “Give it to me. Let me taste you.”

You cried out, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

Your entire body shuddered, your hips grinding against his mouth as the wave of your orgasm crashed over you.

Joel didn’t let up for a second—his mouth stayed on you, sucking and licking, his tongue flicking over your clit even as you writhed beneath him.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groaned against you, his voice dark and raw with hunger. “That’s it, darlin’. Cum for me. Goddamn, you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cum.”

He kept going, his mouth relentless as he devoured you, sucking every last bit of your release, not giving you a moment to catch your breath.

His tongue was rough, greedy, lapping up everything you gave him. His fingers gripped your thighs tighter, pulling you closer to his mouth as if he couldn’t get enough.

“Gonna eat this pussy all night,” he muttered, his voice low and possessive, his mouth still working your overstimulated clit. “Ain’t no one else gets to taste you like this. Just me.”

Your legs trembled violently as another wave of pleasure surged through you, and your moans turned into soft, breathless whimpers.

But Joel didn’t stop. He was lost in you, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, the way you tasted, the way you shook and gasped beneath his touch.

He licked you again, slow and deliberate this time, savoring you as he pressed his face even deeper between your legs, his nose rubbing your sensitive clit with every movement.

“Can’t get enough of this pretty little cunt,” he murmured against you, his voice filled with a dark, possessive hunger. “You taste like heaven, baby. Ain’t never lettin’ you go.”

Your body trembled beneath him, the overstimulation becoming too much, every nerve ending in your body still buzzing from the intensity of your orgasm.

You gasped, your fingers clutching at his hair, trying to pull him away as his mouth continued its relentless assault on your sensitive flesh.

“Joel, please,” you whimpered, your voice breathless and shaky. “I can’t… it’s too much.”

But he didn’t stop. His lips pressed against you again, his tongue still moving, though slower now, savoring every inch of you.

He growled softly, his hands tightening around your hips as if he couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go, his grip possessive and firm.

“You’re safe,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and filled with an intense need. “I’ll keep you safe… forever.”

His words came out in a low rasp, his lips brushing against your overstimulated clit as he spoke. It wasn’t just about pleasure for him anymore—it was about control, about grounding himself in the only thing that made sense to him now.

You were his safety, the only thing that kept the chaos in his mind at bay.

Your body flinched at the continued stimulation, but there was something in his voice, in the way he spoke to you, that made you pause. And despite the intensity, despite how overwhelmed you felt, you softened, your fingers sliding from his hair to cup his face gently.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but soft, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you looked down at him. “I’m safe. You’ve got me, Joel.”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark but filled with something deeper—something vulnerable. His grip on you loosened just a little, and he leaned up, pressing his forehead to your thigh as he let out a shaky breath.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ll never let anything happen to you. I can’t… not after everything.”

You nodded, your body still sensitive, still trembling beneath him, but you understood. You knew what he was fighting, what he was trying to hold onto.

Your hands slid through his hair, soothing him, and for a moment, the intensity between you softened into something more gentle, something more real.

“I know,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible. “I’m yours, Joel. You’re keeping me safe.”

And with that, the tension in his body seemed to ease, just a little, as he pressed one last kiss to your thigh before pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

He let his hands move to the clasp of your bra, fingers fumbling just a little as he unhooked it, and with slow, deliberate care, he slid the straps down your shoulders. His eyes were dark, full of hunger again, as the fabric finally slipped away, revealing you fully to him.

“Gotta have every inch of you,” he rasped, his voice heavy with desire. “You’re too fuckin’ perfect, darlin’.”

His words slurring with the weight of his obsession as he dropped the bra to the floor.

Joel’s gaze locked onto your breasts, and a deep, guttural groan escaped him, his hands moving immediately to cup them, his rough, calloused fingers brushing over your soft skin like he was savoring every inch.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice low and dripping with lust. “Look at these…”

His grip tightened slightly, his hands kneading your flesh as if testing the weight, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, already hard from his touch. His gaze darkened as he stared, completely mesmerized by the sight of you.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled, dipping his head down, lips brushing softly at first over your skin, kissing the tops of your breasts. He lingered there, his breath warm, and just when you thought he might hold back, he latched onto you, mouth hot and eager, sucking hard, his tongue swirling over your sensitive nipple.

Your back arched involuntarily, pushing your chest toward him, a gasp slipping from your lips. The way his mouth worked on you, the wet, sucking sound mixed with his groans, sent a rush of heat through you.

His other hand moved to squeeze your other breast, fingers teasing and pinching at your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“You like that, don’t ya?” Joel growled, his voice rough and gravelly against your skin. He sucked noisily on your breast, pulling more moans from you as his teeth grazed your nipple. “These perfect fuckin’ tits… they’re mine. All mine.”

His mouth moved from one nipple to the other, just as eager, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your flushed skin. He sucked hard, tugging gently with his teeth before biting down enough to send a sharp, pleasurable pain radiating through you. Your body jerked beneath him, but the way his lips wrapped around you, the way he sucked and licked—made it impossible to want him to stop.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his words slurring slightly, his voice drunk with lust. “You taste so fuckin’ good. So soft… everything about you.”

His mouth didn’t leave your skin, trailing lower with a messy trail of kisses, but he stayed focused on your breasts, alternating between the two like he couldn’t get enough.

“You’re all I need,” he whispered between kisses, his voice almost desperate now. “After everything… all that shit. I just need you. Nothing else.”

Your moans grew louder, your body trembling under his relentless attention. Every flick of his tongue, every bite of his teeth sent your mind spinning, your skin burning with the intensity of his need.

Joel’s breath hitched, the sound rough and needy as his hands roamed over your body, almost frantic now as if he couldn’t touch enough of you at once. His fingers trailed down, brushing over the curve of your hips, gripping tightly.

“I’m going to explode,” he growled, his voice strained with raw desire. “Can’t wait any longer. I need you now.”

His hands were rough, urgent, as they skimmed down your sides, over your hips, feeling every curve of your body. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t slow down, and it was driving him mad.

“Pull down my pants,” he ordered, his voice a low rasp, thick with need. His eyes burned into yours, the intensity of his stare sending shivers down your spine. “Do it, baby. Now.”

Your hands shook as you reached for his waistband, fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans, but you could feel the heat radiating from him, his breath heavy as he waited, every second sending his body into a deeper need.

You slid his jeans down slowly, the anticipation thick between you. As his boxers followed, his cock sprang free—hard, throbbing, already dripping with precum, the tip flushed and leaking. It was thick, veins running along its length, the sheer size of him making your breath catch.

Joel stood above you, completely exposed, his chest heaving, his cock twitching with the intensity of his need.

“You’re gonna thank me,” he said, his voice dark, his eyes glinting with a predatory hunger. “Thankful I saved you. Now show me.”

He took your hand, guiding it to his throbbing cock, his fingers curling around yours, urging you to touch him. As your hand wrapped around him, his breath hitched, his hips jerking slightly at the contact. The heat of him was overwhelming, his skin smooth but pulsing beneath your grip.

“Give it a kiss, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Show me how thankful you are. I saved you, didn’t I? You owe me that.”

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking up to meet his, but the hunger in his gaze—his need—was too strong to resist. Slowly, you leaned forward, your lips brushing against the swollen tip of his cock. The taste of precum lingered on your tongue as a soft groan escaped Joel’s throat, his hand tangling in your hair, guiding you closer.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, his voice gravelly, dripping with lust. “That’s a good girl. Kiss it, baby. Show me how fuckin’ grateful you are.”

Your lips pressed soft kisses against him, working slowly along his length, and every touch made him groan deeper, his hips twitching as he craved more. The sight of you, your lips on him, drove him wild.

Joel’s grip tightened in your hair, pulling you closer, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with raw hunger as he gazed down at you.

“You’re thankful, aren’t you?” he rasped, his words rough and possessive. “I saved you… now make me feel it.”

Without hesitation, you let your tongue flick out, tracing the length of him, savoring the way his body reacted to every stroke, every touch. Joel’s head tipped back, his jaw clenched as a guttural groan escaped him.

“Fuck, yeah… that’s it,” he growled, his voice thick with pleasure. “Just like that, baby. Take your time.”

You worked him slowly, your tongue swirling over his length, feeling the heat of him pulsing beneath you. His body tensed, his grip in your hair tightening as he guided you, each movement pulling another growl from his chest.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice a low rumble. “You know how to take care of me, don’t ya?”

His hips shifted, pushing slightly toward you as your mouth worked over him, your tongue teasing the underside of his cock, sending jolts of pleasure through him. The roughness of his words, the filthy way he talked, only made you want to take him deeper, to make him come undone.

“Fuck,” Joel groaned, his voice rough with need. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this… makin’ me lose my goddamn mind.”

Your lips moved lower, teasing his balls with soft kisses, and the second your tongue flicked over them, Joel’s body tensed, his breath catching in his throat.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the reaction immediate, his body trembling. “Goddamn, darlin’…”

You worked slowly, your tongue exploring, teasing him with soft, wet licks, savoring the way his cock twitched above you, the precum leaking steadily now. The sight of him—hard, throbbing, desperate—only fueled your desire to take him further.

Your mouth moved over his balls, sucking them gently, your tongue swirling around them, coating them with warm, slick spit. Joel could barely contain himself, his hips jerking slightly, his cock pulsing.

“you’re so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, his voice strained, thick with lust. “Look at you, takin’ care of me like this…”

The wet sounds of your mouth sent shivers down his spine as you sucked harder, teasing him with your tongue.

“You’re gonna make me lose it,” Joel groaned, his breath ragged, his hand threading through your hair again. “So fuckin’ perfect…”

As you moved your mouth back up to his cock, trailing kisses along the length of him, he nearly lost it. His cock throbbed harder now, aching for more. You took the tip into your mouth, sucking softly, your lips stretching around him as you slowly took him deeper.

“Fuck, yes,” Joel growled, his hips jerking involuntarily. “Just like that… fuckin’ perfect.”

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand tightening in your hair as he guided you, his body trembling with need.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “Takin’ me so perfectly… fuck, you feel so good.”

Every stroke of your mouth, every flick of your tongue over him, sent his body spiraling, the pleasure building inside him, ready to explode.

“God, you’re gonna make me lose it,” he groaned, his voice almost desperate now. “Fuck… you’re so good, baby.”

Just before he could come, he pulled you off him, his chest heaving, his body trembling with the intensity of his need.

Joel’s hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he guided you back onto the bed. His eyes were dark with hunger, and the second your body hit the mattress, his lips crashed onto yours. The kiss was desperate, teeth grazing against your lips, his breath heavy with need.

He hovered above you, his body tense, every movement deliberate, as if he was grounding himself in the feel of you. His lips broke from yours to trail down your jaw, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses as he whispered against your skin.

“You’re safe… You’re here… You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice thick with raw emotion, laced with an edge of desperation. “I’ve got you, baby. Not letting go.”

His body pressed into yours, his hard cock sliding between your slick folds, the heat of him teasing you with every slow rock of his hips. He groaned, deep and guttural, as he felt your wetness coat him, the sensation driving him to the edge.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your neck, his hips moving deliberately as he teased you, his length sliding against you, the head of his cock brushing your entrance but never fully entering.

His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him as his hips rocked slowly, teasing both of you.

“I need you… I need to fuckin’ feel you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with the strain of holding back. “You’re everything, baby. All I’ve got.”

He pressed the swollen head of his cock against your entrance, inching forward, the slow stretch making you both gasp. He pushed inside you, inch by inch, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep control, his body trembling with the effort.

“Goddamn,” he groaned, his breath ragged as he filled you completely. “You’re mine, darlin’. All mine.”

Joel’s breath came out in heavy, uneven gasps as he moved over you, each slow thrust deliberate, his hips rocking into you with a controlled intensity. His eyes locked onto yours, watching your every reaction, your soft moans and gasps only fueling the fire inside him.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he growled, his voice low, barely able to hold himself together. His hands slid up your sides, fingers grazing over your breasts, which bounced with every thrust. “So perfect… no one else gets this. No one but me.”

Your body responded to him instinctively, arching into him, matching his rhythm as the heat between you grew. His lips trailed down your neck, tasting your skin, sucking gently before biting down, just hard enough to make you gasp.

His hips began to pick up the pace, each thrust more forceful than the last, pushing deeper inside you. His eyes never left your body, watching the way your breasts bounced with every movement, the way your back arched, the way your fingers clutched at the sheets.

"Fuck," he growled, his voice deep, primal. "Look at you… takin’ me so good. This pussy was made for me."

His hands cupped your breasts, squeezing them roughly as he drove into you harder, his fingers teasing your nipples, rolling them between his fingers as he groaned with pleasure.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he muttered, his voice slurred with lust, his breath hot against your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

His movements became more urgent, more desperate, each thrust harder than the last. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet, filthy sounds of your bodies colliding only driving him wilder.

His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you against him with every thrust, burying himself deeper inside you.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he rasped, his breath coming out in ragged bursts. “This cunt… it’s mine. All mine.”

Your moans grew louder, each sound spilling from your lips driving him closer to the edge. His hips slammed into yours with brutal intensity, the force of his movements making your body tremble beneath him.

“You like that, don’t ya?” he growled, his voice rough, the filthy words dripping from his lips as he pounded into you. “You like when I fuck you like this… When I own every inch of you.”

His hands slid up your thighs, gripping them tightly as he spread your legs wider, giving him deeper access as he thrust harder, faster. His body was slick with sweat, his muscles straining as he gave you everything he had.

“Take it,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust, his eyes dark as he watched you. “Take every fuckin’ inch.”

Your body arched off the bed, your nails digging into his back as the pressure built inside you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. Joel’s eyes never left yours, watching you come apart beneath him, his movements relentless as he drove you higher and higher.

“Fuck, you look so good,” he groaned, his voice barely audible between breaths. “Look at you, takin’ me so well. This fuckin’ body was made for me.”

His control was slipping, his thrusts becoming erratic, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. He could feel you tightening around him, your body shaking as you approached the edge, and it only pushed him harder, faster.

“You’re gonna cum for me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a mix of filthy promises and raw need. “I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

With a final, deep thrust, you shattered around him, a loud cry ripping from your throat as your orgasm tore through you. Your entire body trembled, your legs shaking as you came hard, clenching around him.

“Fuck, yes,” he growled, his voice raw and desperate. “I’m gonna cum… inside you.”

Your breath hitched, and through the haze of pleasure, you gasped out, “No… not inside, Joel.”

But his grip on your hips tightened, his pace only increasing as he leaned down, his mouth brushing your ear. His breath was ragged, filled with need, and his voice darkened with that raw, possessive tone that always drove you wild.

“Oh, I’m gonna fill you up,” he growled, his words thick with lust. “Gonna shoot it deep inside, baby. Feel it? Gonna pump you full of me.”

Your protest was swallowed by the intensity of his thrusts, his body moving with a relentless, animalistic rhythm as he chased his release. Every movement was deliberate, driven by the need to claim you fully, to push you past the edge where you had no control left.

“You’re mine,” he whispered harshly, his grip bruising as his hips slammed into yours with brutal force. “This pussy is mine to fill. I’ll fuckin’ shoot every drop deep inside and watch it drip out of you.”

The heat between you both was unbearable, and his cock throbbed inside you, your body wrapped around him perfectly. His breath came out in ragged bursts as he buried himself deep, holding you tight, no intention of pulling out.

His voice lowered, dark and dirty. “You’ll feel me leaking out of you for hours, baby… that’s what I do. I fuckin’ claim you from the inside out.”

And with a guttural groan, Joel lost control, his hips slamming into you one last time as he came hard, spilling into you with a force that left him trembling. His body shuddered against yours, the heat of his release filling you as his cock pulsed, shooting wave after wave of hot cum deep inside.

“Fuck, yeah,” he growled, grinding his hips against yours, making sure you felt every last drop. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect for me. I fill you up, make sure you feel me long after we’re done.”

He collapsed onto you, his breath still ragged, his body trembling as the last waves of pleasure washed over him. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, holding you tight like he was never going to let you go.

“Every bit of you,” he murmured into your skin, his voice softer now, but still heavy with satisfaction. “You take all of me.”

· · ───

He didn't speak right away, but he slipped out of bed, disappearing briefly before returning with a warm towel. His movements were careful, almost methodical, as he gently cleaned you, parting your legs with slow, tender strokes.

You watched him, your heart heavy with the way he moved, so soft and deliberate, so different from the intense, possessive man from earlier. The shift unsettled you, though there was something undeniably intimate about the way he took care of you now, as if he was clinging to this moment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, breaking the silence, his voice low and vulnerable, a sharp contrast to the growls and raw need he’d shown earlier.

He kissed your leg gently before setting the towel aside, pulling the covers up over both of you. "You okay?" His voice wavered, like he was afraid of your answer.

You nodded, but the weight of everything lingered between you. You like him, but the intensity of his need for you, the way he held onto control so fiercely, left you with a knot in your chest. The silence stretched on, and you knew you had to say it.

"I'm okay," you whispered, your voice soft, hesitant. But then the truth spilled out, delicate but firm. "But I… I'll need the morning-after pill. Tomorrow."

The air in the room shifted instantly. Joel froze, his hand still resting lightly on your hip, but his grip loosened. His eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something unspoken passing through them—disappointment, maybe even hurt.

His chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, and though he nodded, the gesture felt slow, almost reluctant. "Yeah… whatever you need," he said quietly, his voice rougher now, carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before. “I’ll take care of it.”

He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your heart twisted. You could see it—the subtle shift in him, the way he was trying so hard to keep it together, to be the one who could protect you from everything. But his need for control, for certainty, left him lost.

“I’ll get you some water,” he muttered, almost distracted, as if he needed something to do. He slipped out of bed again, the sound of his footsteps faint as he moved to the kitchen. You could hear the quiet clinking of glass, the faucet running, but all you could think about was the tension in his voice.

When he returned, he handed you the water, waiting for you to take a sip before placing it on the nightstand. His hand rested on your back, rubbing slow circles, but there was something off in the way he touched you—his need to care for you had become almost frantic, as if he was trying to prove something, trying to fix something he couldn’t control.

"Do you need anything else?" His voice was soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for another request, something else he could take care of. “More water? Food? Whatever you need, I’ll get it.”

You shook your head gently, but guilt gnawed at you. You hadn’t meant to unsettle him, hadn’t wanted him to feel like he wasn’t enough. You could see it in his eyes—the storm of emotions he was barely holding back, his desperate need to be there for you in every way.

“I’m good, Joel,” you whispered, offering him a small smile, but the weight of it all hung between you, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Joel’s eyes flickered, his jaw tightening as he swallowed hard, struggling to keep it together. His hand lingered on your hip, his breath uneven. "I just want you safe. I’ll make sure you have what you need."

The look in his eyes tugged at something deep inside you—a mix of guilt and tenderness. You hadn’t meant to make him feel like this, hadn’t wanted to push him further into the spiral you could see in his eyes.

You reached for him, your fingers brushing his cheek gently, and before he could say anything, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His breath hitched, his body stiff for a moment, but the tension in his shoulders began to ease under your touch.

“Come here,” you whispered softly against his lips, your hand sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. “Lay down with me.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if he didn’t know what to say. But then, with a quiet sigh, he slipped back into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as though he was afraid you might slip away.

His embrace was warm, comforting, but you could feel the vulnerability in the way he held you—the desperate need to protect you, to be everything for you, even when he was still fighting his own battles.

You kissed him again, softer this time, your lips lingering as you whispered, "I'm right here."

His breath came out in a shaky exhale, his arms tightening around you, holding you close as though it was the only way to ground himself. “I’ll always keep you safe,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with emotion. “I promise.”

And though you knew there were things you couldn’t fix for him, though you couldn’t be the solution to all his pain, you let him hold you in that moment, let him believe that he could keep the chaos at bay.

Tomorrow, you’d have to face the hard conversations, the reality of what he needed. But tonight, you could be his anchor.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

whew....

Another chapter will come, comment if u want me to remind you!! (also just really love comments, they make me so motivated)

xoxo

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

Text

That Unwanted Animal [COD Fantasy AU] CursedKnight!Ghost x fem!Reader

Ghost was cursed ever since his king helped him get back to life from his grave. A stench of death, strong and inescapable, renders him unable to find a woman who will be willing to bed him. What will happen when he finally finds a perfect mate? CW and Tags: Dub-con, power imbalance, Medieval Fantasy AU, knight!Ghost, servant!Reader, sex work, brothels, dub-con kissing and touching, obsessive Ghost, dark Ghost, basically Ghost finds a girl and forces her to be his, Ghost is a half-dead resurrected knight, soft reader, submissive Reader.

AO3 Word Count: 2209

“I won’t go to him, he smells!”

“Drop the act, princess, not even half of our guests reek of anything more than their drinks and foul meat.”

“You know how he smells, Katherine. You know what he is.” “What he is, is a client. Rich one. Do you wish to moan under the belly of another failing merchant? Or a peasant’s dick is more to your liking?” “I bring this place more than half of its earnings! I won’t bed a man who has barely got out of his grave and should be put back!” Ghost sighs, his head pressed against the wooden wall. For a brothel, this place has remarkably thin walls. For a brothel, girls out here have remarkably potent noses – and acquired tastes for anything that doesn’t taste like a man who was brought back to life with dead souls still clinging onto every inch of his very being.

For a man of his regals – the blessed knight, the cursed knight, the kiss-your-enemies-goodnight, the spill-your-blood-he might, he has a particular choice in the brothel he tried to entertain himself with. Not like any willing woman would bed him without a sum of gold enough to feed a family for months – and not like he stood low enough to force himself on poor servants of his castle, bringing his dignity and family name down with each handmaiden he tried to grope while on meeting with the king.

“Do you think he is really dead?” “Dead man wouldn’t need a cunt to drown himself in. He had to have something working.” “Maybe he likes to watch? Or to hurt.” “Maybe, we can’t afford to turn him down, princess. Drop your act before he is willing to burn us down for refusing him.” “Well, I heard he went through every brothel in town. Not a single soul bedded him!” “I heard he doesn’t even like girls. Has his royal knight by his side all day.” “He came alone.” “He will be coming alone for the rest of his life with a smell like this!” “Dark magic. King should have known to not trust the Empire and their lurkings.” “Having a blessed knight is good, no? We’re not at war.” “Cursed knight is good in your army, not your bed. But if you are so willing…”

He hears women – from the madam of this fine place, a woman of fine manners, exquisite figure, and the way of looking at him that almost convinces that she doesn’t want to press her fingers against her nose, blocking the smell of death that follows him ever since he became…that. He hears girls of not-so-fine manners, with fine bodies and perfect pretty faces, gentle hands that don’t know about the trials of war. He remembers the way they looked at him – the way they always looked at him.

Scary, horrendous, dangerous. A skull mask and dark tendrils of smoke follow his body, the Grim Reaper himself embedded in his dark armor. No matter how many perfumes he uses, no matter how many washes per day he forces himself onto, nothing can hide the stench of death. He thought he’d be fine with it as long as his battle brothers were with him – as long as he was with them.

Then he got lonely.

Finding a lay in the brothel would be a scandal for a man of his status – but Simon Riley is no man. Not anymore, at least.

“I bet he wears a mask because he is hideous.” “Maybe he is just wounded?” “What kind of wound would make him hide his face while not being hideous?” “Maybe, he just doesn’t want to show his face here.” “No use. By the dawn, all women in the capital will know about great lord Riley, refuced at every brothel.” “What if he kills us?” “What if he burns us?” “What if he…” “Let the servant bring him tea. Make her useful.” Before he could react – as if eavesdropping on a bunch of whores was something of a pleasant chore he was dealing with – a door to his room had opened. Girl, in much simpler clothes than the ones that courtesans were wearing. With a tea tray in her shaky hands, grabbing the poor thing like there was no tomorrow. Huh. Perhaps, with a mug like his as her client, there is no tomorrow for a poor girl.

Ghost sits on the bed, large, muscular legs spread, his dick swaying with attention the longer he is looking at your face. He can’t be picky, not in his state as a not-dead not-man, but he has to admit that you’re pretty. Without all the mannerisms of a prostitute, you look like a poor deer stuck in the predator’s den. Your hands are shaking – but he looks at your face, having no shame in drinking up your expression like a vampire – and he didn’t once saw you wince at the smell. Hm. Must be potent tea you’re serving.

— I didn’t ask for the tea.

Rude, as always – he didn’t come here to be ridiculed by poor attempts at pleasing him without a girl under him, getting her pretty legs open for his cock. He didn’t intend to come here and listen to all of the workers laughing at him like he was a monster – yet, he can’t leave now, his wounded ego grows into something ugly.

— Most of our clients prefer to drink this before the…act. It makes them more potent, as they say.

His cock didn’t have any warm body to dump his semen in years. He doesn’t need tea to make him hard – he sees the glimpse of your skin under those simple robes of yours, and he can already feel it stir, standing up for attention.

— You don’t sound too certain. Your client must not drink it then.

— I…I am not a prostitute, sir. Merely a servant.

He knows already – your makeup is too plain, your manners are off, your clothes are simple grey wool with not a dash of color. If you were his – as a prostitute, a wife, a lover – he would bring you something much brighter and skimpier. You’d look good in silks, he thinks.

Not like you’d allow him to bring you home – not willingly, at least.

— So I figured, love. You’re pretty enough to be one, that’s clear.

“You’re pretty enough to be a prostitute” is a compliment that only sounds good in the head of a man who hasn’t talked sweetly to a woman in ages. His whole life, perhaps, exchanging the embrace of a lady with tight hugs of the war.

— You’re flattering me, sir.

— Bloody hell, woman. Not a flattery if that’s the truth.

— If you say so.

You shift under his gaze like a rabbit in front of an apex predator. Ghost doesn’t want to force any woman to sleep with him – but he looks at the sway of your chest, at the softness of your hips, at the way you tug and scratch on the rough fabric of your skirt as you’re too nervous to look at him…

He must contain himself.

— Why you work as a servant?

— I…tried to be a prostitute, sir. Most clients here don’t like it when you’re not…

He slowly rocks his body closer to you, his head almost laying on your shoulder. He saw the way you looked at him as he leaned to you – you’re surprised, scared, but not disgusted. your nose didn’t twitch a single time, and he is sure that no tea would ever make you this blind to the stench of death lingering on your shoulder now.

There must be something wrong with you – and he wants to save you like a rare treasure because of it.

— Most clients here don’t like what, luv?

— I…have damage, sir.

So he figured. Just didn’t exactly know what you have.

— What is it?

— A…after a bad cold, my sense of smell…never returned. Not for the last three years.

— You don’t smell anythin’? Must be bloody hard.

— It is. But…I manage. As much as I can.

He slowly drapes his hand over your shoulder – you wince at the touch. He thinks of the madam of your fine establishment. The woman didn’t seem the type to beat her girls, but you had such a shy, scared expression as he started to touch you, he can’t wait to burn this fucking place to the ground. Maybe spare a few of your friends if you’d ask him nicely. You won’t be working here again, ever – that much he can be sure of.

— Doin’ a good job, love.

— I hope so, sir.

He drags his hand on your face, squeezing the soft skin of your cheek. You’re adorable – servants shouldn’t be so pretty, it makes him feel bad, it makes him sinful. He should try to hit on the girls who actually work here – not the poor soul that as sent here to bring him here, as a little lam sacrificed to a vicious god.

— You don’t smell me, then?

— I don’t smell anything, my lord.

He chuckles, but your pained expression only makes him chuckle more. Poor thing, living in a place like this without a sense of smell – he can’t believe how you could survive without the smell of heavy incense and creams that all of the whores were using. He loves it when a pretty girl is making herself even prettier – makeup, all of those little elixirs they are putting on their faces, the flowery smells that make his rotting existence a bit easier. It never worked on him, on his disintegrating skin and stench that followed him everywhere – but then it dawned on him.

You have such an adorable, shy smile and a small posture, playing with the edges of your clothes like a girl who is extremely embarrassed to be in a room with a man of his position. But women aren’t shy in his presence, not anymore – they are disgusted, horrified, they want to put their noses into little candy boxes and smell roses just to get rid of the smell.

But you, adorable creature, aren’t disgusted. Hell, how he missed a pretty girl being so shy around him.

Ghost kisses you before he can think of anything else. Before he could give you space to escape, to come to your senses and understand what kind of man he is. Broken, wounded, pushed to the cage, and locked with a key dangling from the side – god knows, Simon Riley isn’t a good man, never tried to be. Devil knows, he will drag you to the grave with him.

Your lips are soft, untouched, you smell of cleaning supplies and sweet tea. Your hair smells like roses and dust, your hands are covered in little scabs – probably from the days spent cleaning and doing the hard work. He will make sure you will never have to work again, not with your hands, at least – he will kiss your callouses and nourish the skin into something delicate, fragile, to the smell of home he lost long ago.

Your mouth tastes like heaven, and Ghost isn’t a man who deserves to push this angel further, isn’t a man who deserves to have a pretty girl moaning under him. He makes you cry, he terrifies you, he kisses you relentlessly and can feel the way your skin burns, tears streaming down your face. If he was a better man, he would oblige to your hands, pushing him away, your mouth is trying to cry for help.

Simon Riley isn’t a good man, and he pushes you on your back, firms hands on your back, on your hips, touching, groping, feeling the skin of a somewhat willing woman. You’re scared, but you should know the kind of job girls here are doing – he didn’t pay all of this money for charity projects, after all. As much as he would pay even more gold just to take you away, to push your legs apart in a scenery much nicer than a room in a brothel. You deserve a real bed, a nice dress that he can rip away from you,

All you get is his hands on your body, ripping your simple skirt apart because he can’t wait to get to the soft skin underneath. He looks at you, precious girl, as adorable as you are, and can’t resist kissing you, stealing breath from your skin. When he finally hears you moan, when his hand goes to grab the softness between your legs – moist, prepared, smelling of roses and arousal, of all things sweet and sinful – all of his sense of self-control shatters.

He will take you on the floor of this room – over and over, claim you as his little maiden, his favorite girl, until he is sure his cursed, rotten seed has filled you to the brim. He will take you away, bringing as much money to your madam as he can manage, buying you all for himself – taking you as his prized possession for the new castle he was ordered to as a lord knight.

Ghost will make you his, hells and heaven be damned.

You cry, but he knows you’ll come around. And he can be very, very patient.

#cod #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #ghost x reader #yandere ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost #dark ghost #dark cod #fantasy #yandere male #male yandere

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reiding-writing · 4 months ago

Text

ECHOES OF SILENCE — SPENCER REID!

digging too deep into something you’re not directly involved in can have consequences.

s1!spencer x fem!reader | mystery | 3.3k | event masterlist.

| part one. | part two. | part three. |

main masterlist.

a/n — part two babyyyy, with a few cameos for my babes, iykyk

You sit in the back of the lecture hall, but you’ve stopped listening.

The words from the professor dissolve into the noise of your own thoughts, thoughts that loop in a quiet, panicked hum.

It’s been weeks since you first brought up your theory—missing college girls, all within a radius too tight to be coincidence—and still, no one’s taken you seriously. A joke, they said. A distraction from exams, group projects, and campus parties.

The friends who once nodded when you talked now roll their eyes, turning their backs on you with easy laughter when you bring it up. Even your roommate, who had seemed concerned at first, has started to shut the door a little too firmly when you try to explain the latest detail you’ve uncovered.

Outside, the October air bites, but you hardly notice. You move through campus like a ghost, just as unnoticed as the girls who disappeared.

There's something wrong here, you can feel it—but nobody else seems to care. The administration deflected your concerns with vague reassurances about “young adults finding their own path.” The words were polished, as if they’d been spoken a hundred times before.

When you left their office, you couldn’t help but wonder if they had a protocol for when girls like that vanished.

You’re walking back to your dorm when your phone buzzes, Spencer��s voice echoing through the receiver. The relief is immediate; at least he believes you. You answer, and his voice, calm but strained, fills the silence.

“I’ve been looking into the disappearances,” he says without preamble. “It’s not just your local colleges.”

Your pulse quickens. You stop mid-step, scanning the quad as if something will jump out at you. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve connected similar cases in colleges further out in the city. Girls, vanishing from Maryland, Strayer—there’s a pattern. The BAU is looking at it now.”

You knew it. That cold knot in your stomach tightens further as he continues.

“We’re talking about a coordinated effort. Someone, or a group, is targeting them. It’s not random.”

The world feels sharper, the shadows darker, like something is lurking just out of sight. “Why hasn’t anyone said anything?”

Spencer sighs. “It’s under the radar. They know how to blend in, make it look like the girls left voluntarily, but the timeline doesn’t fit. Whoever this is, they’re careful. But they’re getting bolder. You were right to be worried.”

You swallow hard, but your throat is dry. This was more than you’d imagined. “So, what do we do?”

His voice lowers. “You need to be careful. We’re dealing with something bigger than just local authorities. The BAU is moving, but these people are professionals. If they know someone’s onto them…”

You don’t need him to finish the sentence. It hangs in the air between you, as heavy as the threat itself. You look around again, this time truly seeing the faces of the students passing by. Any one of them could be next. Or maybe it’s already too late for some.

—

The scent of stale coffee fills the local police department’s waiting area, mixing with the sharp tang of disinfectant. You sit across from Spencer, flipping through a stack of missing person reports he’s been able to pull.

The faces of the girls stare back at you from the pages—smiling in yearbook photos, carefree and young. It’s hard to reconcile the images with their fates, with the cold emptiness that follows their names and the faint, scribbled notes: last seen at a party, disappeared after a study group, no signs of forced entry.

You’re glad that Spencer agreed to let you in on the official investigation, unsure you’d be able to go about your daily life with that malingering thought in the back of your mind that any one of the girls you see on a day-to-day basis could be the next addition to your notebook, another number in the case. A statistic.

Spencer sets another file on the table between you, his brow furrowed in concentration. “We’ve got a disturbing amount of overlap here. Same age range, similar social circles. Most of them were last seen at crowded events.”

You nod, skimming through the details. You knew this was bad, but seeing it all laid out like this, in official reports, makes it more real. “They’re being targeted at parties,” you mutter, piecing it together aloud. “Whoever’s doing this knows exactly how to disappear them without raising any alarms.”

Just then, Detective Walker strides in. You recognise her as the officer you’d spoken to a few weeks ago when you first voiced your concerns. She was dismissive then, barely giving you five minutes before handing you off to a clerk. Now, her expression is more serious, though a hint of skepticism still lingers in her sharp eyes.

“So, you’re telling me these disappearances aren’t just coincidence?” Walker asks, dropping into the chair opposite you. She flips open one of the files but doesn’t really look at it. “I don’t know, kids come and go all the time. Some of them just don’t want to be found.”

Spencer, ever patient, sits up straight. “We’ve been tracking similar cases across multiple colleges across D.C. These girls didn’t just decide to leave. There are too many similarities. Someone is orchestrating this.”

Walker glances at you, then at Spencer. The silence stretches long enough for you to feel the doubt creeping in, but finally, she leans back, rubbing his jaw. “Alright. I’ll bite. Let’s say this is more than it looks. What exactly are we dealing with here?”

A flicker of relief passes between you and Spencer. Walker isn’t fully convinced yet, but at least she’s listening.

Over the next few days, you sit in on interviews with the families of the missing girls, listening as they recount the last time they saw their daughters.

Most of the stories are eerily similar: the girls were seen heading to a party or a study group, sometimes in crowded dorms, other times at social hangouts, but never alone.

No one ever saw them leave. No one noticed them slip away. One moment they were there, and the next, gone, like a shadow in the middle of a crowded room.

You start to notice something else too—the faint look of frustration in the families’ eyes. A few mothers mutter how the police didn’t take their worries seriously at first, how they’d been told their daughters were probably off with friends or boyfriends, that they’d come back eventually. But they never did.

And you sympathise, if you were frustrated by their negligence, you couldn’t even imagine how awful it felt for them.

Later that week, back at campus, you and Spencer sift through more data in the library’s back corner, out of sight of curious students. You’re exhausted, but you can’t stop, not now. The glow of your laptop screen reflects off your tired eyes as you comb through social media profiles and event listings. Then something clicks.

“There’s a circle,” you whisper, pulling up a list of campus groups, scanning for overlapping names and attendees. “They’re attending parties and groups in places that are all within an hour radius from each other.”

Spencer leans in, looking over your shoulder. “We need more data. There’s got to be something to lead us to a central location.”

Spencer rifles through his bag for a few seconds before pulling out his phone, failing in a number and letting it ring on speaker.

“Giver of all things pink and fluffy, how can I help you boy genius?”

You furrow your eyebrows at the response, but Spencer seems unfazed.

“Hey Garcia, we need access to everything connected to these campus events,” He explains, laying out your findings. “Emails, attendance lists, anything that could show us who’s been organising these things. There’s something bigger going on.”

The sound of keyboard taps comes over the phone, joined by a “Watch a true genius do her work,”

The line goes silent for a few second barr the keys, and then there’s a small tut from the woman on the other end. “Uh, there’s a student forum for D.C colleges, seems like they share addresses and dates for certain student events with each other, all of our linked events being mentioned at least once, seemingly by the same few individuals,”

There’s another small pause, and then an unhappy hum. “They just posted a new party listing today, I’ll send you the date and address,”

“Thanks Garcia,”

“No problem Wonder Boy, Penny G out!”

You glance at Spencer, a cold wave of dread hitting you as the phone goes dead. This is it, almost certainly proof that someone’s been hunting these girls. And worse, they’re not done.

Walker is going to have to believe you now.

—

The first message arrives late one night, just as you’re about to turn off your computer. It’s an email from handle that’s just a bunch of letters and numbers, but the subject line—STOP—is what catches your attention. You hesitate, thinking it might be spam, but something feels wrong. Against your better judgment, you click.

You don’t know what you’re getting into. Walk away, or you’ll end up like the others.

There’s no signature, no indication of who it’s from, but the message is clear. You stare at the words, your pulse suddenly racing, and glance around your darkened dorm room.

The blinds are drawn, but you feel exposed, as though someone’s watching you right now. Your hand hovers over the mouse, and instinctively, you delete the email, but the unease doesn’t go away. Instead, it festers, a growing knot in your gut.

You immediately call Spencer. His voice is groggy but sharpens when you tell him what happened. “I think they’re onto us,” You breathe out, voice heavy with concern.

You can hear the ruffle of what you assume to be his sheets as he sits up. “We need to be careful. You should stay somewhere else for a few days.”

You agree, but sleep doesn’t come easy. The next morning, you pack a small bag and move into a motel on the edge of town, one Spencer picked for its anonymity.

You don’t tell anyone where you’ve gone, not even your closest friends. It feels safer that way. Still, the tension clings to you like a second skin. You can’t help but check your surroundings every few minutes, scanning faces and cars, wondering if one of them belongs to the person who sent that message.

A few days later, you’re sitting across from Spencer in his car, watching the local diner where you’re set to meet Detective Walker. The message still lingers in your mind, but you push it aside as Walker arrives, sliding into the booth with a grim expression.

“We found something,” She says without any preamble, placing a thin file on the table between you and Spencer. “Her name’s Charlotte Francis. She went missing last year, same pattern—college student, disappeared after a party. Only, we found her. Alive.”

You and Spencer exchange a look. “Where is she now?” Spencer asks, leaning forward.

Walker sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “She’s in a trauma center. We haven’t been able to get much out of her, but... what little she’s told us? It’s bad. Really bad.”

Your stomach turns. “What did she say?”

Walker hesitates before speaking. “She was taken by a group—an underground ring, we think it’s traffickers. They exploit them, sometimes for months, before they disappear completely. Charlotte’s one of the few we’ve ever recovered.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Exploit. The word echoes in your mind, heavy with implications. “She’s... she’s still alive though, right? Can we talk to her?”

Walker nods, but there’s no relief in her expression. “She’s alive, but barely. She’s not the same girl who went missing. The trauma, the things they did to her... it broke her. She won’t even look people in the eye. Most of the time, she doesn’t speak.”

A chill runs down your spine. You’ve been chasing this story, desperate for answers, but now you wonder if you’re getting too close. The warning from the email comes rushing back—Walk away, or you’ll end up like the others.

Later that day, you and Spencer visit the trauma center where Charlotte is being kept. The place is sterile, too clean, and the soft hum of fluorescent lights only heightens your anxiety.

A nurse leads you to a small room where Charlotte sits on a bed, staring out the window, her face hollow and gaunt. Her eyes don’t flicker toward you when you enter, and she barely reacts when Spencer speaks to her in a gentle voice.

“Charlotte? My name’s Spencer Reid, I’m with the FBI, is it alright if I ask you some questions?”

She nods stuntedly, barely so much as a flicker of acknowledgment in her expression. “Charli,”

Spencer blinks. “Sorry?”

“Don’t— call me Charlotte, please,”

“Right,” Spencer nods softly, pulling up one of the plastic guest chairs and motioning for you to do the same. “Of course, that’s no problem,”

The conversation is slow, almost non-existent, and it’s only when you mention the parties that she turns her head slightly, just enough for you to see the pain etched deep into her expression.

“Don’t,” she whispers, her voice a fragile thread. “Don’t look for them. They’ll find you.”

The weight of her words settles over you like a suffocating blanket. You know now that this is bigger than you ever imagined—more dangerous, more personal. And suddenly, the fear isn’t just about finding out the truth. It’s about what happens when the truth finds you.

As you leave the trauma center, Spencer glances at you under his glasses, his face tense with unspoken worry. “We’re getting close, but this is going to get worse before it gets better. They’re watching us.”

You nod, but you can’t shake the feeling creeping over you. Charli’s warning plays over and over in your mind. How many girls have vanished without a trace? How many more are out there, waiting to be found—or worse, already gone?

And how long before you become one of them?

—

Garcia’s lead takes you to a club on the outskirts of the Georgetown campus, one of those places that’s just far enough from the city to feel unsafe but close enough to attract the usual crowd of college students.

The police, along with Spencer and his team from the BAU, have planned the sting carefully—too carefully, you hope. The club is being watched, plainclothes officers mixed into the crowd, waiting for the moment to strike.

You’re there too, disguised as just another student, your nerves stretched thin as you wait for the signal. The goal is simple: get enough evidence to take down the ring, and rescue anyone being held against their will.

Spencer parks a few blocks away, both of you agreeing it’s better to approach on foot. The night air is thick with humidity, and a nervous energy buzzes between you as you walk toward the pulsing neon sign that marks the entrance.

The club is loud, chaotic. Inside, bodies move in time with the beat of the music, students laughing and drinking without a care in the world. But your focus isn’t on the crowd. It’s on the VIP section in the back, cordoned off by a velvet rope and guarded by two burly men. Spencer’s sharp eyes catch it too.

“That’ll be where it’s happening,” he mutters, nodding toward the area. “It’s the only place private enough to be able to make someone disappear without being noticed.”

You and Spencer inch closer, blending in with the throng of students. You act casual, pretending to sip a drink you grabbed from the bar. Your heart pounds in your chest as you try to look everywhere at once, scanning faces, trying to recognize anyone who fits the descriptions from the missing girls’ reports.

Then you see it.

A girl—too young, too innocent-looking—escorted by one of the guards through the VIP entrance. She glances around, clearly out of place, and you see the flicker of hesitance in her eyes just before she disappears behind the curtain. You nudge Spencer, your throat tightening.

“Spencer,” you say, voice barely a whisper.

He nods, tense. “Let’s get closer, but keep your head down. We can’t risk getting caught.”

You push forward, slipping through the crowd until you’re just a few feet from the VIP area. Spencer’s already pulling out his phone, discreetly trying to snap photos for evidence.

But as you lean in to catch a glimpse beyond the curtain, your foot catches on something, and you stumble forward—just enough to attract the attention of the guard.

“Hey!” the guard shouts, immediately stepping toward you.

Panic surges through you. Spencer grabs your arm, pulling you back, and you both make a quick retreat, weaving through the crowd. The music swells around you, but it does nothing to drown out the sound of the guards following close behind.

Your heart races as you dart through the narrow hallway toward the back exit, Spencer right on your heels.

“We need to get out of here—now,” he hisses, eyes darting toward the door.

You don’t need to be told twice. Together, you shove through the exit, spilling into the dark alleyway. The door slams behind you, and you take the opportunity to breathe.

“Oh thank god,” You slap a hand over your chest as you look over your shoulder towards Spencer behind you.

Except he isn’t there.

“Spencer?” you question, voice echoing empty in the alleyway.

A cold wave of dread washes over you. You spin in place, the sounds of shouting fading into the background. “Spencer!” you call again, louder this time, but it’s no use.

The realisation hits you like a punch to the gut. He’s not here. And you’re alone.

“Okay, okay breathe,” You exhale heavily, motioning downwards with your hand to calm yourself down. “Just go back to the car, yeah,”

You nod to yourself as you walk back towards the main street, taking routine breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth.

“Everything’s good, we’re fine,” You’re not exactly sure you’re convincing yourself, but you don’t deny the relief you feel when you spot the light spilling from a street lamp around the corner.

And then someone grabs you from behind, yanking you backwards. A hand clamps over your mouth, and you struggle, kicking and thrashing, but it’s no use. A van door slams shut, and everything goes dark.

— part three !!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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