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soaps-mohawk · 24 days

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 17: Alone

Summary: Your pack has left on their first deployment since you joined them, leaving you alone on base.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,866

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, nightmares, PTSD, trauma, just super depressing overall.

A/N: I'm so ready for these next two chapters, you have no idea. Things are happening, things are gonna happen, it's just...so good. You'll see 🤭. They're pretty heavy chapters emotionally, but don't worry fluff will be coming very soon. I won't leave you hanging too much for too long.

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“We'll only be gone for a few days. A week at most. Dr. Keller will take you to and from meals and anywhere else you may need to go. If you need anything, contact Kate. We'll call when we can.”

He leaves you with a kiss to your forehead. You’re forced to stand there and watch his back as he boards the plane, the ramp closing and sealing you off from them. They all looked guilty, as if it was their fault they had to leave, as if they were suffering as much as you at the idea of parting, even just for a short period of time.

You don't sleep that night. You lay in your bed and stare at the ceiling until far too late when you decide to abandon it for John's room instead. You slip under the covers, disrupting the immaculately made bed as you surround yourself with his scent. You’re on edge, the barracks far too quiet, far too empty. Every little sound has you tensing, holding your breath. The door is locked, yet it’s not the same without your pack there to protect you. If you scream, no one will hear you now.

You manage to fall asleep at some point in the early hours, your mind plagued with horrible nightmares of monsters devouring and tearing you apart.

You wake with the sun, dragging your feet back to your room. You miss the quiet sounds of your boys getting ready in the morning after their workouts, taking extra care not to be too loud. Now you wish for it. You want them to be loud and wake you, because then they’d be here with you. The hallway feels too empty, the barracks too large. You’ve spent plenty of time alone in the barracks, but it’s never felt like this. They’re not just across base from you, they’re probably in an entirely different country.

You stare at their closed doors, all four of them feeling like voids knowing the rooms behind them are empty. Even Ghost’s closed door feels particularly empty.

You shuffle into your room, locking the door behind you as you get ready for the day. You’re not quite sure what you’re going to do, now that you don’t have them around. You suppose you could just go about your day as you usually do while they’re at training, except you won’t have their inevitable return to fetch you for meals to look forward to.

It’ll be days before you see them again.

If you see them again.

You force that thought back into the recesses of your mind. You won’t entertain it, not now while you’re still trying to process the fact that they’re gone. Even if it is a possibility.

You’re sitting on your bed when the knock comes, clutching your phone in your hand. You don’t want to be without it, in case they call. You don’t want to miss a chance to talk to them, especially if it’s your only chance. Or a call from Kate telling you something happened.

You open the door, Dr. Keller standing in the hallway with a small smile on her face. It doesn’t feel strange having her in this space, even with the rest of your pack gone. She’s been here before, and you trust her.

“How are you doing?” She asks as you step out of your room, closing the door behind you.

“I don’t know.” You say, letting out a sigh. “I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“I don’t blame you. Feels strange, being alone here, huh?”

You nod. “Yeah. It’s too quiet. Too empty.”

“I bet.” You follow her out of the barracks and into the cool morning air. “Let’s get some food in you and then you can take it easy for the rest of the day. I know this is a big adjustment, and it happened rather suddenly.”

“Was gonna happen eventually, though.” You say. “For the three months I was with the CIA, they drilled it into my head that their job would always take priority over everything else. Still sucks.”

“It does. Separation is hard for everyone in a pack, even if it’s short term. Add on the stress of their jobs and I can only imagine what it’s like.”

“I’m trying not to think about that.” You say.

“I think that’s the best thing you can do right now.” She squeezes your arm. “Come on, we’ll get the food to go and we’ll eat in my office. I usually do that anyway. It’s much quieter than the mess.”

You get your breakfast, following Dr. Keller to the medical center. You are silently glad you won’t have to eat in the mess without the protection of your pack. The stares from the others might have been your tipping point, and without Ghost to scare them off, you’re sure it would have only been worse.

“Make yourself at home.” Dr. Keller says, letting you into her office. “You can sit at the desk to eat, if that’s more comfortable. I don’t mind.”

You take her up on the offer, sitting in the chair across from hers at the desk. She moves some papers out of the way before taking a seat herself. It feels almost strange, being so informal in her office, but then again, she’s always been more laid back with the formality between the two of you.

“If there’s one thing I miss, it’s good diner food.” Dr. Keller says as the two of you begin to eat.

You stare down at your porridge for a moment, having gotten used to the change in food over the last almost nine weeks. “I miss a lot of things.”

“Would you ever want to go back and visit America?” Dr. Keller asks.

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sure they’d take you, if you asked.” She smiles as you stare up at her in surprise. “I don’t think there’s much they wouldn’t do, if you asked. They care about you a lot.”

“I’m starting to realize that.” You say.

“Good. It’s reassuring to see such strong, natural bonds forming between all of you, despite how the situation came about. You’ve made a lot of good progress already, even with the few bumps in the road.”

It falls silent between the two of you as you eat, finishing your breakfast. Your stomach churns with anxiety, hand closing around the phone in your pocket as if it might ring at any moment. It makes you sick, the thought of what they might be doing, what might be happening right at this very moment.

“Can I ask you something?” You break the silence, needing to take your mind off your swirling thoughts.

“Of course.” She says, looking up from the papers she’d been looking through.

“Since I’m your only patient, what do you do all day?” You ask.

She smiles. “I do a lot of things. After our sessions I log the notes I take and read over them, I make sure your medical chart is up to date, I read through a lot of studies and journals on new research and methods that may be helpful, I talk to colleagues all over the world, including here on base, and I sometimes go around the medical center and sit in on meetings and classes to keep my skills sharp.”

“Do you ever feel like you’re wasting your skills here?”

She shakes her head. “No. Before I took this job, I was caring for sometimes over one hundred omegas at various institutes. It was a high stress environment with long hours. While it was fulfilling work, there’s a high turnover rate for Omega Specialists in that field for a reason. Being a private doctor is a bit of a relief after that, and truthfully, the pay is considerably better.” She folds her arms on her desk, leaning forward. “It’s no less fulfilling than working at institutes. It’s nice to have the time to put together the best care plan for you and your needs.”

“It is nice having an Omega Specialist to myself.” You say. “There were several at the institute, a lot of students doing their residency. They weren’t always...good at their jobs. A lot of them were just going through the motions, doing what the more experienced specialists told them to do.”

“Unfortunately that’s rather common with residents.” She says. “Most of them don’t make it past residency. Like a lot of specialities in medicine, it takes a certain kind of personality to succeed as an Omega Specialist. Not everyone has it in them. I wish more schools and programs would take notice earlier before they get to their residencies and steer them down a different path.” She smiles at you. “Now my question for you. Would you rather hang out in here today, or would you prefer to go back to the barracks? You won’t hurt my feelings either way, nor will you be a bother.”

You think about it for a moment. While your knee jerk answer is to go back to the barracks, what are you going to do? Sit alone in the silence and worry until it makes you sick? Sit in the rec room and watch TV alone and worry about your boys until the next meal time? As much as you want to be alone, you also don’t want to be alone.

“I’d...like to stay here, if that’s okay?” You finally say, making your decision.

“More than okay.” She smiles. “Make yourself at home, do whatever you’d like. Watch YouTube videos, dig into some books, take a nap. You won’t bother me in the slightest. You’re always welcome to hang out in here.”

You look over the titles on the bookshelf, picking one that looks interesting before settling on the couch. You spend the day with Dr. Keller, relaxing in her office and going to meals with her. It doesn’t calm the anxious thoughts by much, but at least the loneliness is abated a bit.

You return to the barracks after dinner, debating whether you should sit in the rec room or just go to your room. The rec room feels too open, too exposed without the safety of your pack, so instead you choose to retreat into your room, locking the door behind you.

You let out a sigh, your shoulders slumping as tears gather in your eyes. Another night without them, another night without the safety and comfort of their presence around you. Another night knowing they’re not on the other side of the wall, a knock or a yell away.

You fight the panic starting to bubble as you get ready for bed, your mind swirling with thoughts of something happening, someone breaking in, someone taking advantage of their absence to get to you. You know it’s an irrational fear. Most of the alphas on base ignore your existence, aside from the couple incidents you’ve had with them. The most they do is stare, though that’s to be expected as an omega.

What if they’re holding back something more sinister, though? What if the only thing stopping them is your pack? This would be their opportune moment.

You’re shaking, eyes wide in fear as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Sure, you’ve learned a few ways to defend yourself, but could you really utilize them? If the moment called for it, could you defend yourself enough to get away? Where would you go? Dr. Keller won’t be in her office all night. Could you run and seek protection from another medical professional that was still working? Could you find a different high ranking official on base and hope they’d help you? Could you go for the guards at the gate and hope they help you?

Or would it be safer to run for the woods? Try to lose whichever alpha decided to attack you and hope you don’t get lost in the trees? You would just have to survive the night, and Dr. Keller would notice you missing come morning. What would she do, though? Call Kate? It’s not like the guys could just come home and help you. Would Kate even tell them something happened and put them at risk of getting distracted? What if something happened to them because of you?

You turn the shower on as cold as it will go, stepping under the spray in your pajamas. You sink to the floor of the shower, letting the cold water snap you out of your panic and prevent you from distressing. No one’s coming through the door, no one’s going to try and hurt you.

Your teeth are chattering by the time you reach up to turn the water off. Violent shivers rock your body, your hands and feet numb. You take deep breaths, feeling more awake and aware than you have since yesterday.

The panic has dropped to almost nothing, your shaking now due to the fact you’re freezing. You strip out of your wet clothes, leaving them in the tub as you wrap a towel around yourself. You’re still shivering violently as you change into warmer pajamas, opting for one of John’s shirts and sweatpants.

You slip under the covers of your bed, piling every blanket you own on top of the covers before tucking yourself against your giant bear. You won’t sleep, but at least you’re not panicking anymore.

The days begin to blend together without the routine of your pack to keep you steady. Dr. Keller comes to get you at the same time as you expect for your breakfast, and then you spend all day with her, sitting in her office, keeping yourself occupied while you wait for an inevitable phone call. It will either be your pack calling to check on you, or it will be Kate with bad news.

You’re not sure which is worse. The anticipation of a call from your pack letting you know they’re all alright, or the dread that it will be Kate telling you something happened to them.

You’re still not sleeping well, the anxiety and the worry you might miss their call meshing with the nightmares that were already plaguing you before they left. You’re exhausted and strung out, the worry beginning to eat you alive. You’re constantly on edge, every little sound close to sending you spiraling.

Your thoughts have slowly shifted from missing your pack to ruminating about the fact they might not be coming back. It’s a risk you’re well aware of. The kinds of things they do put them at risk, every deployment carries the risk of one, or all of them, dying. One thing goes wrong, one small freak accident and your entire pack could be taken from you.

You’re not sure you’d survive that.

Most omegas don’t.

“Still nothing?” Dr. Keller asks as you sit there, staring at your phone for what must have been an hour at least.

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

“Sometimes no news is good news.” She says. “I know you’d prefer to have any news at all, though.”

“I can’t stop thinking...what if something bad has happened?” You say, fingers trembling from gripping your phone so hard.

“Kate promised she’d call if something happened, right?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“She’s a woman of her word, I can say that much. I’m sure they’re fine. They’re very capable soldiers. They wouldn’t be in Spec Ops if they weren’t, much less on a highly specialized team.” Dr. Keller stands up, moving to the closet. “It’s still hard, not knowing where they are or what they’re doing. I remember when my brother told our parents he was enlisting. Our mother cried for a week straight.” She pulls a pillow and a blanket out of the closet. “I still don’t think she’s completely forgiven him. It’s hard for omegas when someone leaves the pack, even temporarily, especially if you can’t have constant reassurance that they’re alright.”

Your brows pinch in a frown at her words as she kneels on the floor beside the couch. “Your mom was an omega?”

She nods. “And dad was a beta. Wound up with two beta children, though I don’t think mom complained much about that. We grew up in a big pack with lots of people around us. I think mom would have been worse off if it had just been her and dad.” She sets the pillow on the couch, gently prying the phone from your fingers. “Come on, lay down.” She directs you.

You do as she says, laying down on the couch, resting your head on the pillow. She covers you with the blanket, tucking it up around your neck. “Is that why you’re so good at this job?”

She smiles, setting your phone on the arm of the couch above your head. “Maybe. I think it gave me more empathy for omegas and the struggles you face every day.” She gently squeezes your arm. “They’ll be alright. They’re probably just as worried about you, as you are them. But, you need to get some rest. You don’t have to sleep, just laying with your eyes closed will help.”

You tilt your head, glancing up at your phone. “What if I fall asleep and it rings?”

“Then I’ll make sure you get a chance to answer it.” She says, squeezing your arm again. “I promise. Get some rest.”

You let out a breath, not wanting to risk falling asleep, but you close your eyes anyway. It doesn’t stop the thoughts from coming on, the nightmarish images the anxiety feeds your brain flashing before your eyes. What if they’re lying dead somewhere right now? What if something’s happened to Kate and she can’t tell you? Would you ever find out? Would you ever know?

Despite the anxiety prickling through your body, the warmth of the blanket begins to lull you into a false sense of security. Perhaps it’s the sheer exhaustion from your lack of sleep over the last couple weeks, paired with the exhaustion from your constant worrying, but you find yourself slipping between sleep and consciousness as you lay there on Dr. Keller’s couch. You don’t mean to, but you can’t help it as you begin to drift off to sleep.

Screaming. It’s loud, piercing your ears. Something’s holding you, hands clutching at your form desperately. It hurts, nails biting into your skin, fingers gripping too hard, yet you don’t care.

“You won’t take her from me! I won’t let you!”

You’re crying, sobs wracking your body as you cling just as tightly to the form holding you.

Hands grab at you, squeezing and pulling, trying to free you from the constricting grip around you, but it won’t let go. You cling to it just as desperately, afraid of what will happen if you let go.

You know what will happen if you let go.

“She’s no daughter of mine.”

The words bite into you, slicing through your skin straight into your very soul, the prickling pain of your own flesh and blood rejecting you making your skin crawl. How could he just let you go like that? How could he turn against you so easily, over something you have no control over?

Pain erupts across your entire body. Something snaps, your ears ringing from more screams. You’re being pulled away from the safety of the hold around you, your body going cold as the warmth around you disappears. Hands close around you, fingers ripping into you as you're torn from your mother’s hold and into the unknown.

“Easy, easy.”

You’re gasping, breathing wheezing as tears choke you.

“Deep breaths. In and out, nice and slow.”

Your breath hitches, catching painfully in your chest.

“You’re alright, you’re safe.”

You force your eyes open, blinded by tears as something is tucked into your arms. You squeeze the bear against your chest, hiccuping as you fight for control over your emotions. You’re on the couch in Dr. Keller’s office still. You’re not at what was once your home, not stuck in the nightmare you’ve lived over and over.

Slowly breathing becomes easier, your sobs quieting to sniffles. The tears still spill down your cheeks, dampening the fur of the bear in your arms.

“You’re alright,” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back gently.

You slowly push yourself up to sit, pulling your knees against your chest. You press your palms into your eyes, trying to get the tears to stop. Dr. Keller shifts her position, sitting next to you on the couch.

“How long have you been having nightmares?” She asks quietly, watching you as you try to calm yourself.

“Since my heat.” You say, voice rough from crying. You wrap your arms around the bear again, holding onto it tightly.

“You haven’t said anything about it.” She says gently, shifting slightly so she’s facing you.

“I didn’t want to.” You say quietly, shame burning through you. She’s not reprimanding you, yet you can’t help but feel like you’ve done something wrong. “I shouldn’t be having them, I mean...it’s not even that bad compared to...compared to what the others have gone through. The kinds of nightmares they have.”

“It might seem that way to you, but trauma is still trauma. It might not be the worst thing someone else has gone through, but it is the worst thing you’ve been through.”

Her words give you pause. You’ve never quite thought of it that way. The kinds of things your pack does, the things they’ve seen, the things they’ve done, are far worse than anything you’ve experienced. The things you’ve experienced may pale in comparison, but they’re your experiences. No one else’s.

“If you want to talk about them, that’s what I’m here for.” Dr. Keller says, leaving things open for you to decide what to do.

You don’t have to tell her. She won’t force you to do it. She won’t force you to do anything, to say anything you don’t want to. It might be nice, though, to let someone know, someone neutral, someone who won’t tell anyone else. It might be nice to finally put into words the things that are eating you, have been eating you.

You lay back down, curling up into a tight ball on the couch. You hug the bear close to your chest, letting it ground you. “My nightmares, they’re always about the day I left for the institute.” You start, taking a shaky breath. “I haven’t had them in years.”

“You were sent early after your presentation, right?” She asks.

“The day after.” You answer.

“Being sent to an institute can be traumatic when done within the normal time after presentation. I can’t even imagine what being sent that soon was like.” She lets out a breath. “Sometimes when we go through something traumatic, the brain and body hold onto it, because we don’t feel safe enough to process it in the moment. The brain can hold onto it for years, until we finally feel safe enough. Then the brain can start to try and heal from that trauma without us even realizing it.”

“You think that’s what’s happening?” You ask.

“It’s possible. Going through your heat successfully, being claimed, building close bonds with your pack, all could aid in helping you finally feel safe enough to process that trauma. Things usually feel worse as the brain works through the trauma, which could be why you’re having nightmares about that event suddenly.”

“Is there anything that will make them stop?” You ask.

“There’s some things we can do together that might help the process. I’m more than happy to help you with it, if that’s what you’d like to do. If you decide to, I think it will be a good idea to set up appointments at least twice a week, at least at first.”

“What are we gonna tell John?”

She gives you a look. “Well, I’d advise telling him the truth. I think you should tell your pack about your nightmares. They can at least offer you some comfort and understanding. Of course, that’s entirely up to you and what you want to do.”

You let out a sigh, getting comfortable on the couch again. Dr. Keller adjusts the blanket over you, squeezing your arm gently.

“Think about it.” She says. “We can talk about it more after they get back and things have settled back to normal again.”

You’re brushing your teeth when the call comes. You quickly spit into the sink, not even bothering to rinse your mouth before you’re answering, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots. You hadn’t even checked the screen to see who was calling. You’re just anxious to hear from someone after days of silence.

“Hello?”

There’s a beat of silence before the voice on the other side responds, the audio distant and slightly garbled, but you hardly notice.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

You fight back a sob, your inhale shaky as relief floods through you. “Alpha.” The title slips through your lips before you can even catch it, your body nearly vibrating at hearing John’s voice after so many days.

“I’m here. We’re all here.” He says, distant voices sounding in the background.

A smile tugs at your lips, happy tears blurring your eyes as you collapse on your bed. “Missed you.”

“I know, we’ve missed you too.”

You move to your bed, flopping down on the mattress in relief. “You alright? Is everyone alright?”

“We’re alright. Few bumps and bruises, but nothing we haven’t had before. How are you holding up?”

The urge to spill the truth to him is strong. You’ve been depressed and worried and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that you haven’t panicked about something. You’ve been having horrible nightmares and haven’t been sleeping. There’s an ache in your chest that won’t go away, and you’re afraid it might kill you if you don’t see them soon.

“I’m alright. Sad cause I miss you a lot.”

“I know, sweetheart.” There’s a sound on the other end, something you can’t make out and the line buzzes for a second. For a moment you’re worried you were disconnected, but John’s voice cuts through the noise again. “We’re finishing up here soon, and we’ll be home in a couple of days.”

You can’t help but sigh in relief at his words. They’re alright. They’re all safe, and they’re going to be home soon. You’re going to get to see them soon, touch them again, smell them again. “Hurry back.” You say, your voice shaky with emotion.

“We’ll try, sweet girl. We have to get going, but we’ll be back before you know it.”

Saying goodbye doesn't hurt as much as you expect it to. Maybe it’s the relief from hearing their voices, from knowing they’re really alright paired with the knowledge that they’ll be home soon. Two days doesn’t seem so far now that you know that’s all that stands between you and seeing your pack again.

You roll over in your bed, pressing your face into the pillows. Nothing smells like them anymore. Not their shirts that they scented before they left, not your pillows or stuffed animals. The couch in the rec room, and even John’s bed have started to smell more like you.

The first thing you’re going to do when they return is get a big whiff of each of them, even if you have to tackle Ghost to do it. You want to refresh their scents all over everything, roll around in them until they’re the only thing you can smell.

For the first time in days, you manage to sleep that night. It’s not much, but it’s a deep, nightmare-free sleep, aided by the relief from the constant anxiety that has plagued you.

You update Dr. Keller the next day on the news of your pack’s imminent return. You elect to spend the afternoon in the barracks instead of her office, the building suddenly not seeming quite so empty now that you know they’re coming home soon. You clean up John’s room, making his bed again after you’d made a mess of it trying to sleep. They’re all going to be tired when they return, and you want to help them in any way that you can. You pick up your room as well, even though you know you likely won’t be spending much time in it for a while. You’re going to latch yourself onto them and not let go until the ache in your chest has disappeared.

You bristle when the knock sounds at your door. You glance up from where you had been sorting the clothes you’d stolen from the guys from your own so you can get them to scent them again. You’re not expecting a knock yet. It’s too early to be Dr. Keller coming to get you for dinner, and she would have announced herself like she has been, if it was her.

That means someone else is in the barracks. Someone you don’t know.

Your mind races as you try to think of who it could be. You don’t know many others on base, and certainly no one that would enter the barracks just like that, unless it’s an emergency. Is there an emergency? You’re almost certain if there was an emergency on base, then there would be alarms going off or something. There’d be some sign that something was happening, but it’s quiet outside, or at least, there’s no noises you’re not expecting.

The knock comes again, louder and sharper. Whoever is on the other side is obviously not going to just go away. You debate calling Dr. Keller, telling her someone is outside your door, getting her to help you on this, but instead you grab your phone, holding it in your hand as you move towards the door.

You unlock it, holding your hand on the handle in case the person on the other side tries to force their way in. They don’t, so you open it slowly, just enough that you can see out. There’s a soldier outside your door. A woman. You don’t recognize her, but then again you don’t see many women on the base, and you don’t pay much attention to the other soldiers.

Maybe you need to start paying more attention.

She’s a beta, you can tell just by looking at her. She’s wearing scent blockers, keeping her scent from projecting into the barracks to erase the fact she was here.

She says your name, staring at you with hard set eyes. “General Shepherd is waiting for you.”

It takes you a moment to process what it is she’s saying. You’ve never met any of the higher ups on base. The person with the most authority you’ve met is John, but you know he’s only a Captain. There’s others above him, but you weren’t any concern of theirs, so you have never bothered to meet them. Even in your time with the CIA, the person with the most authority that you met seemed to be Kate. You hadn’t even been given names of anyone higher up than her.

Apparently something’s changed.

Something in the back of your mind begins to tingle. Something isn’t right about this. You should have called Dr. Keller, or even Kate. You shouldn’t have opened the door so recklessly.

“But, I’m not supposed to-” You begin, unsure of what to do now.

“It’s a direct order from your superior.” The woman cuts you off, her tone sharp and impatient.

You’re not a soldier. The only superior you have is John and he’s certainly not behind this.

You wouldn’t dare say that out loud. Not right now.

“Okay, okay.” You say, stepping back slightly from the door. “Let me just get some shoes on.”

You close the door, staring down at your phone. You debate calling Dr. Keller or even just sending a text, but you don’t put it past the woman outside to barge in if you don’t hurry. You can feel the panic rising, the thought of someone invading your space so carelessly making the back of your neck tingle. So instead you slip on a pair of shoes, shoes you know you can run in, before you open the door again.

She’s still standing in the hallway, stiffly at attention. Her gaze pierces into you, making your skin crawl. You close your door behind you, slipping your phone into your pocket. She doesn't say anything as she turns on her heel, walking down the hallway towards the door. You follow behind her, having to walk quickly to keep up with her. You’re reminded of your early days on the base when you would be escorted around by Ghost.

You’d take those times back over this right now.

Your palms start to sweat as you leave the barracks, dread starting to fill your stomach as you realize how much of a mistake you’ve made, leaving with this stranger. She could be taking you anywhere to see anyone. You’re not even sure General Shepherd is a real person.

The thought of being led blindly into a room of alphas like a lamb being led into a den of hungry wolves nearly makes you panic, your steps faltering just slightly as you debate running. You could make it to the medical center quickly from here if you sprint the entire way. Would she chase you if you took off running? Would you get in trouble? Would the guys get in trouble if you did?

You don’t want anyone to get in trouble.

Especially not with this being the first time you’ve been on your own. They’ve put a lot of trust in both you and Dr. Keller in their absence. If you get into trouble while they’re gone, that might change things. You could ruin everything you’ve built by misbehaving.

The woman leads you to a building you haven’t been in before, leading you down a clinical-looking hallway to a door. She pauses in front of it, turning to face you. You stare at her, still on edge. What if this is a test? What if they’re testing you to see if you’d just blindly leave with a stranger while they’re not there to protect you.

You’ve made a big mistake.

The woman holds out her hand, and you stare down at it dumbly. “Your phone.”

You continue to stare at her hand for a moment, trying to swallow the nervous panic rising within you. You don’t have much of a choice now but to obey. Your hands are shaking as you pass your phone over, the woman pocketing it before she opens the door.

It’s bright inside, the LED bulbs burning your eyes. You’re uncomfortable and uneasy, a dangerous mix for an omega, but the person inside doesn’t seem to care. He stands from his seat, towering over you. He screams alpha before his scent even hits you. You’re thrown back into the memories of your father, the way he carried himself, the way he stood. Back straight like a rod, hands clasped behind his back, face pressed into a stern line.

He’s in uniform, decorated with more patches and pins than you could put a name to. Army, you think, judging by the color of his jacket. It looks like General Shepherd is a real person after all.

You try not to flinch as the door clicks closed behind you, sealing you in this room with an unknown alpha. Though it’s only one, you still feel like the helpless lamb standing before a hungry wolf.

No one will hear you scream. No one will care.

“My name is General Shepherd.” He says, his voice gruff and laced with authority. “I am the acting commander of Task Force 141.”

You’re not sure if you should say anything, or even bother introducing yourself. He probably already knows you well, even though you’ve never met him before in your life.

“I was one of the driving forces behind the omega initiative, and I decided the 141 should be one of the first to participate. I also signed the approval for you to be assigned as their omega, did you know that?”

You shake your head. “N-No sir, the CIA didn’t give me any names.”

“Good.” His lips twitch in what you assume was supposed to be a smile. It doesn’t ease your nerves any. “They weren’t supposed to. I’m sure you’ve learned that confidentiality is everything in this line of work.”

“Yes, sir.” You try not to flinch under his gaze, piercing and probing. The back of your neck is tingling, every single instinct in your body screaming at you to run, to escape, to get somewhere safe.

“I came here today to ensure your pack was doing as they were instructed. I’m impressed with what I’ve seen so far. You’re getting along well with them?”

You nod again. “Yes, sir. There were some...bumps along the way, but we all get along fine now.”

“Good.” He closes the file on the table, taking a step closer to you. You fight the urge to take a step back, not wanting him to invade your space while you’re so vulnerable. “The success of this program is imperative to the future of the military and its functionality. You’re doing important work here with the Task Force.” His hand lifts, slowly pulling the collar of your shirt to the side so he can see your mating mark.

You fight the urge to lift your hands and wrap them around the back of your neck, the instinctual urge to protect yourself nearly winning out as he stares at your mark. Your heart is pounding in your chest, the fear-driven adrenaline making your fingers tremble. Half a second and he could scruff you, half a second and he could overpower you.

No one would know. No one would care.

“I’m satisfied with what I’m seeing so far. Of course, the true measure of success will be their efficiency in their current task.” He steps back away from you, moving back to the table. “How have you been adjusting to them being gone?”

“It’s been difficult,” You say, breathing for a second to collect yourself. “But I know separation can be a rough adjustment at first.”

His lips twitch again in a twisted smile. “You’re a smart girl. That’s why I chose you for this position. You’re doing good work. Your efforts will change the course of military history, hopefully for the better.”

Something about his words don’t sit right with you.

You’re trembling as you exit the room, led out by the woman that had brought you to the building. Your breaths are heavy as you try to keep a grip on the anxiety threatening to overtake you. Your hand is trembling uncontrollably as she give you your phone back, your knuckles going white as you clutch it to your chest. You’re sweating, the cool air chilling your skin as you step outside.

You barely remember the walk back to the barracks, numbly following the woman as she leads you back to your safe space. It doesn't feel so safe anymore, now that she’s breached it. She entered without permission, breaking that trust that’s so sacred to packs.

She doesn't even seem bothered by it.

She pauses outside the door to the barracks, staring down at you. You fight the urge to race inside and lock yourself in the safety of your room before she can change her mind and enter again, or take you somewhere worse. You stand your ground, meeting her gaze.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” She says, as monotone as she had been the first time she spoke to you.

You finally realize what it was that made her seem so off to you as you think over her words.

She’s American.

“Thank you for escorting me.” You say politely, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Have a safe trip home.”

You quickly enter the barracks, speed walking down the hall towards your room. You want to burrow under your covers and hide until the guys return and you can feel safe again. You pause in front of your door, staring down at the handle. The back of your neck is prickling again, anxiety burning hot in your veins. Your hands have begun shaking again, clinging to the phone still pressed against your chest. You fight the urge to hyperventilate as you stare at your door, half of your brain telling you to run and the other half stuck, staring in shock and disbelief.

Your door is ajar. Open just a crack, just enough to be noticeable by looking at it.

You always close your door. You always ensure it’s shut every time you leave the barracks, even when the guys are home. You remember shutting it before you followed the woman out of the barracks. You remember distinctly listening to the click of the handle as you pulled it shut behind you in the quiet of the barracks.

You stare at the gap, the line of the frame visible. It’s open. Your door is open.

Someone was inside your room.

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iridescentblued · 1 month

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꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 !

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: geto x afab!reader

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 && 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nsfw / 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni! geto is a college algebra math tutor && reader is failing, written in lapslock, geto is a tinie, TINIE bit of a perv (but we love him), not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls geto ‘senpai’ until she doesn’t, size kink. wc; 8.5k

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔. . . this is my first fic on this blog and also my first jjk fic in my entire life so please go easy on me aha i tried to keep it relatively tame, but based on my plans for the future, this will not be a trend sjfigjsfgj. reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what suguru had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway.

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one geto suguru for college algebra. you were eager for summer, suguru had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for suguru, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable.

and the more he remembers about you, the more suguru wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. suguru has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire.

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more.

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you.

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” suguru reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.”

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.”

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, senpai?”

“hm?”

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.”

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” suguru smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, senpai, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.”

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, suguru can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.”

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily.

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at.

it had been your idea, not his, so why did suguru feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. suguru had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it.

senpai, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together.

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try.

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. suguru supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features.

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, suguru’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question.

by the end of the week, suguru’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors.

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort suguru offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips.

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and suguru robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.”

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. suguru chuckles.

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.”

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.”

“what kind of rewards did she give you?”

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” suguru says, amused.

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.”

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is.

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. suguru packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile.

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly.

“you were serious about that?” he laughs.

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

suguru takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next.

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.”

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so.

when suguru pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking.

“senpai, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.”

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for suguru to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that.

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and suguru notices you’re less than focused.

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours.

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, suguru had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact.

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and suguru even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you.

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, suguru reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one.

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features.

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?”

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. suguru grins.

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.”

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and suguru chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading.

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.”

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.”

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand.

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad suguru wants to hear it in those exact words.

“tell me what you really want, then.”

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, suguru wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — suguru claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert.

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and suguru always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later.

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and suguru knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

suguru’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it.

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders.

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, suguru is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced.

“senpai, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all suguru does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.”

in all honesty, suguru would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more.

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth.

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for suguru to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him.

“senpai, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it.

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and suguru’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force.

“senpai — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

suguru wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt.

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue.

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him senpai, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you?

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, suguru finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you.

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis.

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?”

“color me impressed,” suguru replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

“proud enough to give me a reward?”

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be.

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?”

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —”

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.”

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” suguru trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do.

“please, senpai?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

suguru chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.”

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you.

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.”

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and suguru feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips.

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — suguru wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. suguru drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come.

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “senpai, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not senpai. suguru. call me suguru, angel.”

“s—suguru,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered.

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?”

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance.

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

suguru drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit.

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as suguru pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

suguru doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm.

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, suguru — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.”

“but—”

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.”

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. suguru’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you.

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.”

“suguru,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—”

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.”

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.”

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to suguru, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head.

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. suguru reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly.

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice.

“fuck me, suguru,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.”

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.”

“of course you can, angel.” suguru doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and suguru wants to stay here for as long as he can.

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.”

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. suguru works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume.

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“su— suguru!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—”

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you.

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?”

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “suguru, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.”

“m’close, so close, closecloseclose—”

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.”

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and suguru wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out.

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off.

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and suguru almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, senpai.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down.

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and suguru chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck.

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x you #suguru geto x you #suguru x reader #suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x you #getou suguru x you

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trendywaifus · 4 months

Text

↳ just wanna see my baby right outside my door!

you think you’d be alone this christmas but your girlfriend surprises you.

↳ featuring—arlecchino, kafka, shenhe, jingliu

cw: thigh riding, vaginal penetration, teasing, pet names, degradation (slut is used on kafka’s part, soft alre ( mentions of smut towards the end), strap use, kitchen sex, brat taming, i was afraid of making the fic too long so i stupidly rushed it towards the end, sorry, ( ill fix things up later.)

arlecchino was a very busy woman—which you knew from the very beginning of course. after all, she was a fatui habringer, owns an orphanage, and the list goes on. when arlecchino informed you about the plans and meetings she had during christmas eve and christmas day a few days prior, a bitter taste sits on your tongue. nevertheless, you mustered up a tight–lipped smile which your lover did not ignore and provided you words of sweet comfort and kisses.

fast forward to christmas day, you’re sitting alone in your living room, sipping on lukewarm chocolate cocoa that you didn’t really have any interest drinking. there was a bunch of presents stacked under the tree and it was mostly for her and the kids. you sighed dejectedly, placing the mug down with a frown on your face. stomach churning, tears prick your eyes, and you were quick to rub them away with your palm. perhaps you should sleep early to get rid of this awful feeling of loneliness.

a few soft, yet firm knocks at the door breaks the depressing silence. puzzled, you stand up from the couch and walked over towards the door. upon opening it, your eyes widen to see your lover standing patiently in front of you along with two fatui soldiers behind her carrying armfuls of presents. ignoring the shocked expression on your face, she gives you a gentle smile and delicately takes your hand in hers before bringing it up to her lips. “ good evening and merry christmas, my love. i apologize for not informing you about the chances of my early arrival but i wanted it to be a surprise. may we come in? “ arlecchino asks, kissing your knuckles.

you meekly nod, pulling away to step aside from the door for arlecchino and the two men to come in. “ you two, please set the presents by the christmas tree, i would greatly appreciate it. “ she requests, pointing over to the corner where the christmas tree sits; they complied with silent nods. sharp onyx eyes peers over at the boxes of gifts under the tree. she then turns over to you, her gaze softening. “ dear, are those gifts prepared for me? “

“ yes, and for the kids. “ you answered quietly. arlecchino scans your face for a short moment, noticing the redness around the corner of your eyes and the wrinkles between your brows.

“ men. “

“ yes, my lady? “ the two soldiers answered in sync.

“ take all of the gifts from under the tree and bring them to the hearth, you mustn’t drop them or damage them, do you understand? “ the sudden sternness in her voice made them flinch.

“ o-of couse, my lady! “

they quickly gathered all of the presents from under the tree. despite there being loads of them, they were able to fit all of the gifts in their arms and scramble out the door. alrechinno sighs, closing the door behind the two men and locked it. “ um, will they manage? although the trip isn’t that long, there are quite a lot of presents to carry. “

“ they better manage. that is their punishment for their incompetence. those two fools caused me a few unwanted inconveniences recently. “ she almost growled. arlecchino deeply sighs to recompose herself and gingerly lures you in by the forearm, bringing you into her arms. “ but i digress,“ she lifts her palm to your cheek and caressed the redden skin under your eye with her thumb. “ i made you cry, didn’t i, dove? “ you could hear the clear disappointment in her voice.

“ no alre, it was just. .i didn’t think you’d come, that’s all. . “ you trailed off, averting your gaze away from arlecchino’s. she lifts your chin up with a finger to guide your eyes back to hers. she leans in to kiss your cheekbone. “ i understand. i deeply apologize for making you wait and think such a thing. i promise that next year will be different. “ she whispered, brushing her lips against yours. a sense of warmth washes over you, getting rid of the bitter feeling of loneliness you previously had.

“ now that i’m here, allow me to make it up to you, dove. “ arlecchino locks her soft lips with yours in a slow, sensual kiss. you kissed back, wrapping your arms around her neck, threading your fingers in her silk snow hair. she holds you closer, running a delicate hand down your back. after a few moments, arlechinno breaks the kiss. “ dear, do you want to open your presents now? “ she asks warmly, looking down at you; red x—shaped pupils brimming with nothing but unadulterated infatuation and loyalty. the other fatui habringers say arlecchino is a wolf in sheep’s clothing—that her calm and stoic personality is nothing but a facade, and everything she does is calculated. perhaps that maybe true, but after witnessing this, you truly believe that even she is capable of love.

you held her tighter and kissed the corner of her mouth. “ no, not now. i just want you. “ arlecchino chuckled huskily, turning her head a bit to peck your lips. “ as you wish, dove. let’s transition to the couch, shall we? “ she releases you from her hold and ushers you over to the couch. she sits down, pulls you down onto her lap, and settles her inky hands on your waist. you wasted no time to press your lips against hers. she hums into the kiss, tilting her head to slot her lips between yours. your hands tugged the coat from her shoulders, causing it to pool at her arms.

“ you’re quite impatient. “ arlecchino husks as your hands skins down her bare arms, pushing the jacket further down until it’s hitting her elbows. you dragged your parted lips down her chin and neck, leaving behind open mouth kisses. her breath hitches, desire sparks within her. “ could you blame me, arle? “ you muttered against her pale skin.

suddenly, arlecchino positions her thigh against your clothed heat, causing you to gasp. “ that’s fine. if you’re going to be impatient, so will i. “ she adjusts her hands on your hips and rocked them back and forth. you moaned as your clit roughly drags against the cotton fabric of your panties and her pants. her narrowed eyes looks you up and down, itching to see the bare skin under your nightwear. “ hm, although, getting off from my thigh will do for now. i maybe impatient, but i’m not that much in a hurry to reduce you into a crying mess.”

“ merry christmas, darling~ “ kafka purrs in your ear, sliding the fat, plastic cockhead into your weeping pussy, stretching out your tight walls. her hands gripped your hips as she pushes her cock deeper into your hole. “ i-it’s soo big. “ you cried out, holding onto her back for dear life. she chuckles, dipping down to kiss away the fat tears rolling down your cheeks. kafka made you wait all christmas night, just to show up at your door with several expensive presents, which also included a custom-made strap that matched the color and design of her gloves. the fact that it was almost three inches bigger than the regular sizes she keeps, has you writhing in pleasure.

“ mhm, i know. i knew one of my special little christmas presents would make you cry tears of joy.” she grins roguishly, amethyst eyes twinkling with amusement. you hissed at her, wanting to smack, better yet, fuck that grin off that pretty face of hers. “ you’re such a little shit, kaf—ka! “ you yelped as she slides her length out of your pussy only to slam it right back in. “ not nice, you naughty girl. “ kafka playfully croons, prodding her fingers in between your bruised lips to stop your potty mouth.

“ maybe i should of stuffed your mouth with my cock first, huh? “ she muses, pounding into your pussy with sharp thrusts. you let out a muffled, broken moan as her tip grazes your cervix. your mind becomes forcefully deprived of rational thoughts as she fucks away your sanity. nothing but strangled moans and groans left your lips which were music to the stellaron hunter’s ears.

she whistles, “ atta girl. now those are the sounds that i wanna hear. “

you weakly glared up at her, digging your nails into her skin as a poor attempt to make her flinch. she shown no reaction, instead, she laughs and lifts one of your legs up, propping it over her shoulder. “ still such a feisty little thing, aren’t you? don’t worry, i’m going to fuck you until i turn you into my obedient slut. “ her cock reenters your seeping cunt in a different angle that made your toes curl and eyes roll to the back of your head.

kafka rolls her hips, pushing her cock up against a sweet spot, causing you to nearly scream in pleasure. “ mmh, that was a good one baby doll. “ she litters your face with kisses, messily smearing your skin with her lipstick. she quickens her pace, rutting you into the mattress. the delicious noise of your slick covered walls swallowing kafka’s cock with every thrust made her own pussy flutter over nothing.

by now, you’re babbling and drooling with kafka’s digits still stuffed in your mouth; sweaty face covered in lipstick. she licks her lips at the messy yet beautiful sight below her.

“ absolutely wonderful, darling. this the best present i could ever have. “

you could never be mad at shenhe for showing up at your home near the end of christmas day with just one small gift in her hand. she’s ignorant to many mortal holidays and traditions so you’re very patient with her. she handed you the little box with a shy smile on her face and explained to you that inside is a charm for fending off evil spirits and bad luck. shenhe had a little trouble with finding a gift for you which is why she was pretty late. thanks to cloud retainer and ganyu, she was able to get you the charm and bless it.

of course you also had some gifts made for shenhe, but it wouldn’t hurt to show her your appreciation first.

“ so pretty. “ you cooed, pushing back the sliver white fringes from her beautiful eyes. your hand snakes under the opening of her hip window, rubbing the toned skin underneath. her stomach flexes as your warm hand travels down and palms her heat. she sharply sucks air between her teeth, looking over at you with hazy needy eyes. “ you don’t have to worry about a thing, sweetheart. “ you mumbled, delving down to kiss her apple cheeks, “ let me take care of you—relax. “

you played with her clit, rubbing and grinding against the small bundle of nerves with your palm in a slow, circular motion. shenhe groans, weakly grabbing your wrist but made no attempt to stop you. you shift down towards her chest area and lifted the flap piece up, revealing her hardened nipples poking out from the black, stretchy fabric. you wrapped your warm mouth around one of the perky buds through the cloth and swirled your tongue. “ feels. .good. “ she breathed, closing her eyes as she focuses on your fingers stroking her puffy folds and your tongue teasing her nipple.

her back arches as the tip of your ring and index finger teases her entrance. “ i know a strong girl like yourself can take two at a time without prep. “ you chuckled, slowly easing your fingers inside her pussy. a throaty moan leaves her lips. she can feel your nails drag against her walls, stretching her out. “ do you want me to let you adjust or start moving? i’m fine with whatever, sweets. “

“ m-move. “ she answers without a second thought.

you slide further inside until you were knuckles deep. she lets out a soft moan as you slowly thrust your fingers into her cunt while nibbling and tugging at her other sensitive bud. your drool leaves a growing dark patch on the fabric. desperation washes over shenhe like a wave as you continued to finger her and focus your attention on her clothed breasts. “ m-more. .” she groans, looking down at you with half–lidded eyes.

“ anything for you, sweetheart. “ you moved back up to her level and sealed your lips with hers. when you curl your fingers into a spongy patch, shenhe’s self control slips.

“ surprise, surprise~ “

a familiar, soft voice whispers in your ear as a silk blindfold covers your eyes. a pair of hands ghosts over your sides and cool breath fans against the back of your neck. a chill runs down your spine. “ jingliu?” you called out, slightly nervous. you didn’t feel her presence in the kitchen or even hear her enter your home. though, you didn’t want to question it too much since she’s a master swordsman who’s always light on her feet. but you can’t lie and say she doesn’t scare you sometimes with her quiet footsteps.

“ mhm. “ jingliu hums, resting her chin on your shoulder. “ i didn’t expect you to come home so late but merry christmas. can i ask why you’ve blindfolded me? “ her hands settles at your hips, cool lips grazes your ear.

“ merely for my enjoyment, dar–ling~ i’m here to claim my present. “ she nibbles and lightly tugs on your earlobe. you swallowed thickly, holding back a soft moan as she grinds her hips into your ass, sandwiching you between her and the kitchen counter. “ aeons, i can’t even make hot cocoa without you randomly pouncing on me. “ you murmured. but, you’re still quite happy to see her since she has the tendency to wander about for days at a time.

her hand slips under the waistband of your pajamas and panties. deft, slender fingers rub your folds, causing you to squirm. “ i’m going to take you right here. ” jingliu promises, you could hear the mischievous smile in her voice. unable to see because of the blindfold, you desperately grasp for the edge of the counter as she mercilessly plays with your clit and leaves cool kisses along your shoulder blade.

you gasped as her finger circled your entrance and enters inside. “ ah—jingliuu. .” you whined, hunching over the counter as she ruthlessly fingers your pussy without any time for you to adjust. “ i haven’t even added in two fingers yet—take it. “ jingliu growls. you could feel her finger stretch you apart, nails barely scratching the sweet spot you’re utterly weak to. “ n-not so fast! “ you hissed, knees growing weak from her pace.

jingliu ignores your plea and instead, adds another finger, erupting a loud moan from your throat. she sucks the skin on the side of your neck, leaving behind a red blotch. your walls clamps around her fingers, jingliu nearly moans at the feeling. “ you’re squeezing my fingers so tight, i cannot wait to feel you do the same to my tongue. “

jingliu finally adds in the third finger, stretching your hole even further. you swear you could see stars popping into your teary vision.

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shadesoflsk · 5 months

Text

LOVE YOU, SANTA!

pairing: re2 leon kennedy x fem reader.

summary: You were feeling a little bit depressed since this was your first Christmas away from your family. Thank God your best friend was there to comfort you.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, smut, best friend Leon, p in v, soft sex, unprotected sex, (don't be like them) praise words, both Leon and reader are quite inexperienced, confessions, two dorks in love, Leon dresses up as santa, just Leon being silly.

word count: 6.2k

minors do not interact, please.

You weren’t feeling the Christmas season.

You’ve always been family orientated. Christmas for you was the perfect excuse to connect with long lost relatives and of course spend quality time with your loved ones. Video calls and interminably lengthy texts didn’t fulfill your desire to be surrounded with your family.

The Christmas lights illuminated your features as you stared at your own tree with teary eyes. Alone, in your living room, you thought about the amazing time you would be having if luck was on your side.

Weeks prior, you had bought a plane ticket ready to fly and visit your family. You had already prepared everything. Gifts? Checked. Souvenirs? Checked. Tons of stories about your university life? Double checked.

But you couldn’t have prevented the fact that your flight would get canceled at last minute. You were offered another one, airline policies or something among those lines. It was an understatement to say that you were mad, angry, and frustrated. It won’t be the same if you travel two days after Christmas. The holiday would be already over.

So, you did what anyone with rational thoughts would do. Drown yourself in sadness as you sank deeper into the couch. Your eyes traveled from your Christmas tree to your TV which was playing The Grinch, very fitting.

You checked your cell phone, and you were welcomed with countless pictures. Most of them were very family appropriate. “Far apart during this Holiday, but totally together in our hearts and minds. Merry Christmas!” Ok, your grandma had no need to remind you you were miles away. But you replied with a short phrase as well.

A sigh left your lips as you set aside your phone, trying to focus on the movie. You watched as the Grinch ripped the tablecloth off the table and none of the items fell from it. You once heard that Jim Carrey defied the laws of physics as the dishes and plates were supposed to fly off. Funny, you thought.

Your phone suddenly buzzed. With an annoying grunt you expected another call from a relative saying how much they were missing you. Yes, it fulfilled your heart knowing that you were expected at home, a family to come back to whenever life gets too rough. But right now, as much as you needed a hug, you didn’t want a reminder of your own solitude.

You grabbed your phone and saw the caller id. “Leon?” you murmured as you picked up the call.

Leon was your best friend, or at least you wanted to say that. You appreciate him as a friend since he is the sweetest guy ever. A gentleman through and through, holding the doors open for you, helping you with your housework whenever you needed and giving you a shoulder to cry on when life was too hard.

He was the epitome of being a best friend, right? However, the way your mind seems to wander to other places when he was close to you made you feel guilty. You thought he only saw you as a friend, nothing more yet you couldn't control your own mind and imagine him in more intimate settings.

Whenever he talks about his training at the Police Academy, how he tells you about every little thing that had happened to him back at the supermarket. Simple things like that make your heart do laps. The way his lips move and how his tongue would stick out from time to time led your brain to create the most romantic scenarios.

How would it be to kiss him? To feel his lips locked with yours in a heated but meaningful exchange of love? Dear God how you wanted that and at the same time you wanted to slap yourself.

Guilt ran deep down in your system when you thought of him like that. Your friendship with him mattered more than anything but the heart wants what it wants, as dramatic as it sounded.

You responded, bringing your phone to your ear.

“Hey Leon.” Nonchalantly as always, you didn't expect Leon to call you, especially when you knew he didn't exactly celebrate this holiday. He has a family, he was just not as close as you're with yours.

“Hi, how are you?” Now that's weird, the conversation seemed so uptight, too rigid. Not like every other call you have with him. His voice tone also changed, curiosity filled your mind as you tried to search the meaning behind his call.

“I'll be honest… not too well. You know I was supposed to fly a few days ago? Well, my flight was canceled so here I am.” You explained to Leon the time-line of disasters you have faced.

“Yeah, Rebecca told me.” So that's why he called! Word has traveled until it reached Leon's ears and as attentive and sweet as he is, he couldn’t stay still and let his friend be alone on a day like this.

“So… are you at home right now?” Leon continued speaking, you could sense he was smiling at the moment, as he stretched that so. You know him too well to know that he's planning something.

“Yup… It's just me and The Grinch.” You laughed at your own statement and your eyes instinctively roamed over the TV that kept playing the movie.

“Am I allowed to be the third wheel?” He joked, you were used to his funny side or at least he tells you it's funny. You really did find him hilarious, but it was even funnier to pretend his jokes didn't phase you.

“I don’t know… Don’t you have plans for tonight?” You asked, playing mindlessly with a strand of hair that has fallen to your shoulder. You have been friends with Leon for years, and you knew for a fact that he usually spends most of his christmases in solitude. Always telling you that everything is alright. Sometimes, you wanted to invite Leon over to your family dinner. But you always imagined the endless teasing your poor friend would be a victim of. “Is that your boyfriend?” “Oh what a handsome gentleman!” So, you never asked him out.

“Not really…” Leon admitted, his voice slightly lowered as if ashamed to accept that he had no plans nor family to visit on an important day like this. “But I could have a Christmas date if you accept. You wouldn’t like your best friend spending Christmas Eve alone, wouldn’t you?” You could almost hear him laughing after saying that. What a little bitch he could be sometimes. But you love him nonetheless.

“Ok ok. Don’t sound so coy. It doesn’t suit you.” Both of you laughed. It was indeed nice hearing his voice on this lonely night. But the fact that he was eager to make it better made your heart flutter. He told you he would be there in about twenty minutes. So you were left alone once again.

After hanging up, you stared blankly at the TV for about fifteen minutes. Your eyes were not really focused on the movie anymore. You allow your mind to give into its desires, you don’t know what this night has in store for you, but you expect something more than simple hugs and cuddles. You were dying to feel him way closer than that and stop debating if you should break those walls of simple friendship or not.

The loud banging on your door made you yelp. You drop your phone on the couch as you quickly approach the front door.

“Ok I got it! You can stop knocking!” You shouted as your hand met with the cold sensation of the doorknob. You were expecting to see Leon in his usual type of clothing. A pair of jeans with a basic blue t-shirt. But your eyes weren’t prepared for what you were about to see.

“What the fuck…” You muttered as soon as you opened the door. Your arm fell to your side as you watched Leon with a dumbfounded look on your face. Your mouth hung wide open as a nervous but amused chuckle left your lips.

There was Leon, dressed from head to toe with a classical Santa costume. He was wearing black boots, red fluffy pants, a red plush coat and even a white beard. The only thing he was missing was a white haired wig yet his blonde hair made up for that.

“Ho ho ho?” Leon sheepishly whispered, bringing a hand to his hair. You couldn’t see it but you knew he was turning bright red under that white beard of his. His baby blue eyes meet yours as you try your best to hold back your laugh. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he waits for you to say something.

“Look, can I come in? Someone else might see me. One of your neighbors already did and…” Leon stumbled on his words. He foolishly thought that the trip from his car to your front door would be uninterrupted yet luck wasn’t on his side when your neighbor — an old ‘sweet’ lady — thought he was breaking in. That led to an argument of five minutes where Leon had to explain that he wasn’t a robber… What kind of robber would dress up as santa? He had sarcastically said. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that since it made the granny way angrier.

“Y–Yeah sure.” You shook your head as your words trailed off. You can't make up your mind on this ridiculous situation. The more you look at Leon the more… grateful you get. You can no longer laugh at his attempt to cheer you up since it was no longer an attempt — he succeeded. As you stepped aside and made some room for Leon to enter, your eyes traveled over his figure, it was a really silly outfit indeed.

You gave him no time to react as you threw your arms around his neck. Indulging in the warmth that his embrace –and fluffy outfit– provided. Even though your heart was beating so hard that it could basically break through your skin – you tried not to pay attention to that fact since you really needed that hug.

“Thank you…” You murmured against his neck, your nose ever so slightly tickling his skin. This was more than friends do. No friend would basically drown themselves in their friend's natural scent.

“It's okay. Just… let me take care of you.” And no friend would let his hands wander over his friend’s body. A pat on the back was everything he needed to do. There was no need for him to allow his curious hands to caress the sides of your waist and lower back.

The hug lasts longer than a friendly hug should but neither of you seemed to care right now. You kicked the door and closed it with your foot as Leon moved the both of you to the couch. Not even attempting to untangle himself from your arms.

Eventually, he breaks the hug as he makes you sit down on the couch. His eyes linger on yours for a few seconds before pressing a quick but sweet kiss on your forehead. Yeah, totally what friends do, right?

“I'm gonna make us some hot chocolate and then watch some movies, ok?” He didn't even let you reply before he basically teleported to your kitchen as if it was his own.

It's not difficult to let him do his thing. Ever since you met him, he's always been like this. Like a puppy who is eager to please its owner. But you weren't an owner. Hell, you sometimes thought that it was the other way around. The dynamics in your friendship were not clear, and both of you have gotten lost in those blurry lines of pleasing and being pleased. It was as if you two were trying your hardest to do your best in front of the other. Too scared to make a mistake, too scared to let their walls crumble and show their most inner desires and wishes.

After a few minutes, he comes back with a wide smile on his face and two mugs on his hands. If he had a tail, it would be wagging right now. Yours too. Puppy love at its finest.

He hands you your mug before placing his on the coffee table. You laugh as he takes off his white beard and instinctively scratches his jaw.

After a while of watching those poorly-made Christmas movies where the city girl spends her Christmas in her old hometown and meets the love of her life, both of you found comfort in cuddling each other. You place your head on his shoulder. That gave Leon the opportunity to lay his on top of yours.

“Where did you get that costume from?” you casually asked, your eyes not moving from the tv. You were comfortable enough to drift off to sleep but there was no way you were falling asleep right now.

“You know how I sometimes have to do the things most of my colleagues don't want to do? Yeah…” Leon chuckled shyly. You didn't know the extent of his words but you could imagine the situation. Him losing a bet, him having to go somewhere dressed up as Santa. Leon's luck can be the worst from time to time.

“So… you decided that it would be an amazing idea to show up at my house dressed up as fucking Santa Claus?” Your voice was filled with light teasing, but the way your eyes shone even if they weren't looking at Leon, told him everything he needed to know. You were thankful that Leon could be next to you right now. And deep down, Leon was feeling all sorts of emotions because at last, he could spend this holiday with you from all people.

“Yeah. Liked the idea? I think these Santa pants fit me a little too well.” Leon laughed at his own joke. You laughed too, and the vibrations of your giggles brushed against Leon's neck, sending shivers down his spine.

As you laid your head on Leon's shoulder, his eyes meet with yours. If looks could speak, he would have already told you how much he desired to have you now. Even if it meant throwing away years of friendship and trust you have built.

Maybe it wasn't wrong. Maybe both of you were meant to indulge in that desire and be blinded by it. No more secrets, no more shy glances and especially no more lies about your feelings.

Your eyes were half lidded, your heart was beating so fast you thought you were dying and every good and bad outcome played on your mind as your lips slightly parted. Hoping that Leon would welcome you as you wanted him to.

And dear God he wanted to do just that. When his eyes locked with yours, he was sent to heaven and back. Yeah, you have laid your head on his shoulders countless times. But now, it seems different. As if he could tell that you had made up your mind about this and no one could stop you.

And he will definitely not stop you.

The sounds of the tv that were filling the living room now served as white noise. The beating of your own heart was the only thing you could truly focus on besides Leon's lips, which were getting dangerously close to yours.

“Can I?” A simple yet important question. It carried years of yearning and pining. Of course he can. What a stupid question to ask. But deep down, you're once again grateful that consent was the first thing that came to his mind even when it was just a kiss. You have won the lottery with this guy.

“Please…” Your voice came out a whimper rather than a simple whisper. But at this point you truly don't care. The world might end but right now you were at the top of it.

And he finally indulges.

His lips met yours in a slow and tender kiss. It hurt, but not in a bad way – your chest ached with longing. It felt so soothing and rewarding that both of you couldn't help but relax in it. As if a weight was removed from your backs, and now you were drowning in your most intimate thoughts.

Your muscles tensed as Leon pulled you even closer. His toned arm wrapping around your middle section. The need to feel you pressed against him was insatiable, especially when he was still so afraid of messing this up. You let him, you let his lips guide yours in a now messier kiss.

You felt his tongue poking against your bottom lip, as if asking permission to kiss you deeper, rawer. You once again allow him to. Whatever he wants right now, you want it too.

Now, the wet sounds from your sloppy kiss were like background music for both of you. Your hands found their home in Leon's hair as they tangled in his fluffy blonde locks. You hear him slightly moan in the middle of the kiss, too nervous to go further but too turned on to stop.

His hand trembled as it traveled from your waist, to your hips and finally they have found their destination on the flesh of your rear. Unsure, he caressed the area before he squeezed it. Immediately regretting it once he heard you yelp.

“Sorry sorry sorry I don't know what came into me I jus–”

“Leon.”

“If you want me to leave I c–”

“Leon, I want it too.”

And that was a surprise for Leon. It didn't matter that he basically had his tongue down your throat a few seconds ago. The fact that you wanted to go further with him was something he couldn't have imagined.

Your hand goes to his cheek, your thumb grazing over his skin as you noticed the rosy color forming in his face. The best sight you have ever seen. Especially how his eyes were glassy with pure love and raw desire.

“Are you sure?” Leon asked, a hint of shyness could be perceived in his eyes.

You nodded, giving him a comforting smile. You hoped that it could convey how sure you were about this. If it wasn’t enough, you will surely know how to convince him that this was everything you have ever wished for.

You leaned closer once again and kissed him, this time it was even slower than the first kiss but not less intimate. You were careful not to startle him since it was obvious he was too sensitive and shy for his own good.

You delicately moved from his lips to his jaw, planting kisses along his jawline. You could hear how his breath was starting to get heavier and how his hands clenched the blankets instead of your body.

“You can touch me.” You assure Leon between kisses, your lips were now on his neck gently kissing each one of his moles.

“I−Okay…” He decides that he should stop being so reserved. The person that he has been in love with is basically presenting herself on a platter, just for him. He will be damned if he doesn’t take this opportunity. “Tell me if it’s too much.” Ever so gentleman, he was still so cautious of not making you uncomfortable, it was too cute.

His hands go immediately to your breasts as if he had already thought where he wanted to touch. He cupped them gently. caressing them over your thin piece of clothing. It was now his turn of kissing you. As his hand played with your sensitive skin, his flushed lips returned to yours, his tongue welcoming itself in your mouth.

“I have dreamed about this… you know.” Leon whispered before kissing you again. Neither of you were giving each other enough time to breathe. Too needy to be kissed, touched, and desired again. “Felt so… guilty each time I imagined myself touching you like this.” Leon’s hand snaked under your shirt and his calloused fingers found your nipples.

Arousal started to pool underneath you as you let out a whimper. His cold fingertips brought you so much pleasure that most of your words died in your throat. Nothing else was needed to say, your body will speak for yourself.

His hand stopped playing with your breast as it moved down to your thighs. He muffled any other sound you could make as his lips shut you up once again. It was like he desperately longed for something to keep his mouth busy. You could feel that he was still unsure of how to approach this new experience with you, yet this didn’t stop him from trying to do his best.

The tip of his fingers grazed over your skin until they reached their destination.

Your sweatpants did a poor job at hiding your soaked mess. You instinctively lifted your hips as his hand teased over your clothed lower part.

“Fuck− Can… Can I?” You already know what he’s asking for and you waste no time, you nodded eagerly. It was pathetic how some simple touches could bring you over the edge but years of pent up feelings were the culprit of this situation.

As he saw you nodding, his hand traveled underneath your sweatpants and underwear before he decided that it would be better if he took them off. In the blink of an eye, your outfit was disregarded. Besides from your thin shirt that still covered your chest, you were fully exposed to Leon, who had a hungrily look on his face. His fingers once more traveled down and were instantly covered in slick as you pressed your back against his chest, feeling the fluffy coat warming you.

He was still wearing that damn costume.

You made a mental note to tell him to take it off later, But for now, you were focused on how Leon’s finger brushed against your clit. His middle finger slowly followed circular motions as you moaned against his neck. It feels so much better than your own − not because he was the most expert in the area − but because it was him. Nobody else was in your mind at that moment.

His finger rubbed your throbbing bundle of nerves one last time before they moved to your entrance. You unconsciously parted your legs even wider, throwing your head back. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place, but for now it will do.

He positioned his finger at your entrance. Over your shoulder, you glanced at Leon who was already looking at you. As if he could read your mind, he leaned closer and locked his lips with yours, intertwining in a tender kiss despite the lustful actions that were taking place.

He slowly inserted one finger, feeling your walls clenching around it. You panted in the middle of the kiss, his deft finger curled inside you as he slowly moved it, in and out at a perfect pace. You grip on the couch, soft whimpers left your lips as Leon tries to find your most sensitive spot.

“My beautiful pretty girl.” Leon whispered against your ear, the words of praise slipping so easily out of his lips. He was no stranger to complimenting you, as you already knew he was an old fashioned boy, always so respectful and so cautious. And tonight, he wouldn't falter on his behavior, even if his actions were not so gentlemanly.

Although he was playing the role of a gentle lover, he was freaking out inside. He didn't know what to do next. Should he go slower? Faster? Should he keep talking? For now, he decided to add another finger.

Squelching sounds filled your dark living room, making you aware of how wet you were. Leon was eager to please you, maybe that’s why he quickly realized how your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he moved his fingers in a certain way. He keeps up that pace, shamelessly plunging his fingers even deeper.

“Fuck, you’re gripping me.” Now that’s new. If you weren’t literally drunk in desire you would be taken aback by the sudden phrase Leon has just said.

“Leon…” Your voice came out as a desperate plea, your hips bucking against his fingers who kept pumping into your hole. Leon was in heaven, he has seen many of your expressions. Joyful because you got the job you were looking for, gloomy because you couldn’t pass one of your exams or angry at yourself when you couldn’t complete something. He has seen them all, or so he thought. But he has unlocked one more, which was definitely his favorite now.

Your dazzled expression made his cock twitch in his pants. He had forgotten about himself and his own pleasure as he was too focused on yours. Yet he couldn’t deny the ache he was feeling and how he had already made a mess in his underwear.

“What is it?” There was a certain tone in his voice that you were foreign to. It was as if he had found a glimpse of confidence in himself that allowed him to act a bit bolder. However, his soft and gentle nature still remained. He slowed down his movements, which was even worse because he was dragging your climax in that way. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to feel you.”

As soon as those words left your lips, Leon knew what he had to do. He removed his fingers from you, a loud whine escaped your lips yet he wasted no time to grab you and carry you bridal style.

He walked towards your room. With his hip, he opened up the door that led to your sacred place where Leon has been countless times but now his objective is different than simple cuddling or sleeping.

He gently placed you on the middle of the bed as you waited for him. You felt a little exposed now that you were fully aware of what was going to happen. You unconsciously closed your legs, your thighs pressed against each other trying to hide the leaking mess that Leon's fingers have left.

He crawls towards you, one hand moving between your thighs to open them once again. For now, he only remains on top of you, watching you attentively for any signs of doubts.

He sees none.

For a moment, you lock eyes. His dilated pupils watching yours in a welcoming silence. Eventually, both of you couldn't hold back your laughter and it came down as a waterfall. He nuzzles his face against your neck while he continues chuckling.

You stop for a moment, trying to catch your breath as your laugh slowly dies down. Leon lifts his head, your thumbs wipe away the tears that had formed in the corner of his eyes.

“What are we laughing at?” You chuckled once again seeing how red Leon was. It should be awkward, embarrassing even. But your fears were long forgotten the moment he first touched you. Taking this step with him wouldn't mean breaking your friendship with him but rather start something even more beautiful.

“I feel like we're laughing at different things.” You continued, your hand then went to his face, brushing away the curtain of hair that fell on top of his forehead.

“Well… I'm laughing out of nervousness. I didn't expect to be in this position with… you.” Leon sheepishly said as he leaned closer to your touch. His warm face seeking your hand. “I won't lie though. I like being on top.”

His confession makes you laugh, wondering if he knew how deep your feelings also go.

“And… I'm laughing because you still haven't taken off your Santa costume.”

Leon's head lowered to see that he in fact hasn't thrown off that not so sexy santa costume. He shakes his head before pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Maybe you have been naughty this year and Santa had to come all the way from the North Pole to see it for himself.” He laughed at his own joke, before he sat on his thighs and took off the coat.

“Oh fuck you Leon. Can we at least have this moment for ourselves?” You chuckled nonetheless. Your eyes fixated on his broad chest. You have seen it before, but admiring it in the dim light while he was on top of you, ready to take you, surely changed everything.

“Yes ma'am.” He grinned at you, before lowering himself and kissing you. Your parted legs gave him enough space to settle between your thighs. His lips were as soft as ever and now you were worried you wouldn't like to kiss anyone else but him.

Between the kiss, you reached for the buttons of your shirt. Undoing one by one before leaving you completely exposed to him. Before you could even start to feel self conscious, Leon's cold hand reached for one of your breasts, gently brushing against your nipple.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your chest, before lapping his tongue against your nipple. His lips circled around it as your back arched into his touch.

“Leon –fuck– please…” You moaned, your body slightly shaking from the sensation Leon's tongue brought you. You couldn’t wait to have him inside of you.

“Mhm?” He murmured as he continued sucking your sensitive spot, the vibrations making you even more sensitive to the touch. His blue eyes meet yours as he looks up to see you.

“Want you inside.” you whined, looking at him with half lidded eyes.

“Whatever my princess wants.” Leon replied, placing one last kiss on your nipple.

He sat on the bed and quickly took off his pants with his underwear, throwing them somewhere around your room. He quickly returned to his position.

You couldn’t help but let your eyes dart towards his already hard dick. The angry and reddish tip was the first thing you noticed, making your mouth water at the sight.

Leon forgot for a moment that he was supposed to be dominant in this moment, his rosy cheeks being painfully obvious to you. He internally reassured himself and ignored his own shyness, connecting his lips with yours in a sweet manner. His breath slightly shaking.

He reached down and positions the tip of his dick near your clit, collecting the slippery slick that was flooding your folds.

“Tell me if it hurts or if you want me to stop.” He said with a warm smile, making sure to see you nodding. Once he had your approval, he pushed himself right into you. The room instantly filled with sinful heavy breaths as both of you got what you always wanted. He gasped against your mouth before he captures your lips in a messy kiss.

You hissed from the sensation of his dick stretching you out. Your arms wrapped around his neck to bring him even closer to you, the need to feel him near you was overwhelming, especially when he was literally deep into you.

He let his head fall against your forehead, following how your arms guided him closer. You can see a faint smile forming on his lips as he bottoms out. In that expression, you see years of yearning and well kept secrets.

For a moment, he stays still. Letting you adjust to his size with his left hand tracing patterns on your hips.

“Are you okay?” Leon asked breathlessly, his eyes were glassy with undivided desire as they bore into yours. He’s patient, caring and loving, he has wished to feel you like for so long, he wouldn’t mess up this moment.

“You're not going to break me.” You laugh, but the way you scrunch your nose told him otherwise.

Leon chuckled and started thrusting, trying to be as deep and slow as he could. Your gummy walls gripped his cock just right and he may as well cum on the spot if you continue doing so. He wouldn’t dare to do that, he wanted this to last. Just so you could remember how he fits you perfectly, like the missing piece to a puzzle.

“I– Am I doing okay?” Leon whimpered against your lips, his sticky forehead still connected with yours. His eyes flutter shut, the sensation being too much for him. He can’t help but ask, no matter the situation he’s always a bit bashful.

You nodded, already wanting more.

His other arm decided to snake around your waist, lifting your hips up and bucking even deeper into you. The new angle allowed him to slide in and out with a faster pace now. The wet sounds were music to your ears, which you'd never grow tired of hearing.

You feel him everywhere. Inside you, in your stomach as butterflies. In your mind as his pornographic moans imprint on your thoughts. You wrap your legs around his waist, providing him even more space to deeply sink inside of you. The curve of his length hitting your g-spot just right. As if he was made for this, as if you were especially crafted for him.

With every thrust, sweet words leave his lips. “You're so beautiful.” “Prettiest girl in the entire world.” Words of praise being sung like a chant, like a mantra he wanted to scream until it engraved in your mind as tattoos that would never fade.

You could feel your climax coming. The heat pooling in your abdomen was proof that you won't last longer.

And you knew Leon wouldn't either.

His hips were starting to miss their already set rhythm. His breath got heavier, and his eyes rolled back. His toned arms held you even closer if that was humanly possible.

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you feel Leon's cock twitching inside of you.

“Fuck–I.” His voice was dripping with desire as he felt your velvety walls squeezing him once again. The grip on your waist got tighter as his grunts grew higher. He watches your body writhing underneath him, how you shut your eyes down when you cum all over his cock. And he could die as a happy man knowing that he made you feel like this.

Eventually, the sway of his hips came to a stop as he also felt himself reaching the so awaited high he was looking for. He’s too gone to even care about anything else when he spurts deep inside of you, white and thick load filling your aching cunt.

Both of you are breathless and sticky, Leon nuzzled his face against your neck and left a trail of pecks on your skin. His arms didn’t leave your body. His weight on top of you coated you with a comfortable and soothing warmth. He pressed his lips against your cheek as he pulled out of you with a faint grunt. And for a few minutes, nothing is said. Neither of you wanted to break the silence that was embracing your souls.

“You ok?” He finally asked in a hushed voice, his lips never leaving your skin as he pampered you with soft caresses around your face.

“Mhm…” You nodded, your eyes slightly closed as you took in what had happened.

“I swear I didn’t expect this to happen. I mean, I wanted to take you on a date first, but –” Leon let out a short laugh, stopping himself from rambling. “But maybe we can have a little date tomorrow? You know… Our first Christmas together.”

His words lingered in the air, he waited for you to reply to his obvious confession. He didn’t want this to end as a mistake or a one night thing. He wanted to court you properly and show you that he could also be the best boyfriend ever.

“Sure. That sounds amazing.”

The voices of your relatives fill your old home as everyone kept unwrapping their Christmas gifts. Leon was at your side, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. He admired the sight, one he wasn't used to.

Familial love.

He’s powerless at the teasing words of your family, he takes pride in being independent, but right he can’t help but cling to your arm when your grandmother pulls his cheek as if he was a toddler.

“What a sweet boy you are, Leon. See, I have some gifts for you!” Your grandmother gently but determined grabs your boyfriend’s arm, forcing him to follow her where a vast choice of boxes were displayed. He gives you a look that could be translated into Help me, please. I won’t be able to carry so many gifts.

You shook your head with a chuckle. When your grandma had an idea, nobody could stop her.

You sat on the couch, witnessing how your grandmother pulled out a scarf from one box. She wasted no time wrapping it around Leon's neck. You knew that he was feeling awkward and timid, true to his nature. But there was a glint in his eyes that told you he was really thankful, especially with the way his eyes seemed to soften once your grandma gave him a joyful smile.

“How long have you been together?” A cousin of yours, a few years younger, asked you. Her eyes darted from Leon and then back to you.

“A year.” You smiled softly, your eyes reflecting how proud you were as you said those words. “Exactly one year.”

author's note: please this took me SO LONG I'll never write smut ever again TT anyway re2 leon makes me go all soft please give this man an award for being the best guy.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #resident evil #FUCK IM SO HFHGDGF im so ashamed #i hate this so much #im just so sappy and..........

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hier--soir · 6 months

Text

take your medicine

pre-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: *tv sales advert voice* so you've been finding it hard to reach orgasm? lucky for you, our best-selling item "hunky boyfriend joel" is on sale at half price. shipping is free, and he is very determined to help you achieve your goals! call the number on your screen to buy now! OR your medication makes it difficult to orgasm so joel (and your vibrator) help make it happen. warnings/tags: set in the early 2000s aka early thirties joel my lover boyyyy, boyfriend joel, depression [nothing dark or sad], anti-depressants, brief discussion of food/eating, cigarette smoking [f], soft!supportive!joel, mentions of masturbation [f], unprotected piv sex, use of a sex toy, ride 'em cowgirl (1939) dir. samuel diege, cream pie, dirty talk, joel talks you through it. word count: 2.9k masterlist a/n: so this one is.... self-indulgent. shout out to all my friends on anti-depressants that are strugglin' to reach orgasm. me too, pals, me too. and there will be no medication shaming on this account, no there will not! so happy sunday, i hope someone else out there enjoys this short little thing with me x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing

Medication is a journey, they say. Every day will be different.

Medication is not the end all be all, they say. We can always try different avenues.

Six months on, now.

Six months since Let’s try the Zoloft for a few months.

Six months since We can reassess in April.

It’s June and summer has settled over Austin with a hot wet vengeance. April came and went with a mutual agreement that you weren’t ready to be weaned off yet. A gentle hand on your forearm and a softly spoken Why don’t we check in again in July?

A low dose. A starter dose. A you shouldn’t experience too many side-effects dose.

And she was right – for the most part. There were no headaches, no nausea, no dizzy spells, no changes in appetite. That shallow, low mood that’d been haunting you for months suddenly began to lift. Begrudging exercise in the afternoons, a three-meals-a-day regiment implemented by your boyfriend, and a happy little pill with every morning coffee.

But fuck – you can count the number of orgasms you’ve had since January on one hand.

Countless nights spent alone in your bed, tangled betwixt sweaty sheets, fingers and forearm cramping until you finally give up. Drink a cold glass of water, wet your face, and go to bed frustrated; a routine disappointment.

You’d gotten lucky a few times, of course. Vibrator on the highest setting possible, pussy all puffed up and numb from the rough speed. Frustrated tears in your eyes, lightheaded by the time you finally feel that sweet sweet relief coursing through your veins.

A few times with Joel, too, in those first few months. And ignorance was bliss—quite literally—until he caught onto what you’d been doing.

“What was different tonight?” he’d asked you on one of those nights, laid out beside each other in his bed. Chests heaving, satisfied smiles spread across your faces.

Your hand had paused against his head, fingers twisted up in his sweaty curls, and you hesitated. So quick, the briefest pause before trying to play it off, but he caught it. Always too perceptive, too watchful of an eye; especially since you’d been diagnosed.

“What’s wrong?” Joel frowned.

“I… didn’t… my…” you’d mumbled, face tucked against his pillow.

“Can’t hear you when you do that,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Baby?”

“I didn’t take my meds today,” you repeated, voice still low, still wary. But you could tell he heard you. Knew from the way his body stiffened beside you. From how when you looked over his smile had dropped, eyebrows pinching inward.

For a moment he didn’t even say anything. He hardly breathed. And then—Darlin’, why would you do that?—so painfully soft, the faintest tinge of worry in that deep, rasping voice of his.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, and something hot began to burn behind your eyes. Wet, pinching shame. “Just… I woke up and I wanted you. And I wanted it to feel like it used to for us, and I can never… you know I can’t finish when I’m on them, and I hate feeling like I’m disappointing you—”

“Baby,” Joel shook his head, strong hand cupping your jaw. His forehead knocked against yours; a tender but firm kind of insistence. The type that says look me in the fucking eyes and listen up. “You’re not disappointin’ me.”

“Joel,” you sighed, face hot, foreheads tacky where they pressed together.

“No,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ mean it. This stuff takes time, okay? We’ll figure it out the way we always do. Just… don’t do that again. Please.”

“I won’t,” you murmured feebly, nose smushed against his.

“Promise me,” Joel had urged you. “Promise me you’ll take your medicine.”

“I promise, Joel.”

You kept strong on that promise. Didn’t get frustrated when he’d stay over more nights than usual, or drag you back to his place in the evenings – all just to watch you pop that little white pill in the mornings.

It brought out something new in him, the day you’d showed him the prescription. Like some instinctual protectiveness was unlocked and he just kicked into hyperdrive.

Cutting work early to drive you to your doctor’s office, cooking up different meals every night for dinner.

Most days you wake up alone in his bed; wipe the sleep out of your eyes as you wander downstairs. Let him nudge you into a chair at the table, beside Sarah, so he can set identical bowls of cereal in front of the two of you—his girls. Hell, if you had a dollar for every time that man has said Breakfast is the most important meal of the day in the past six months, you’d have more money than you could spend.

Joel didn’t even get mad when you started smoking again in May.

Didn’t bat an eye when he found you at two in the morning, sat on the back porch in one of his sweatshirts with the smell of tobacco staining your fingers.

“Been a long time since I seen once of those in your mouth,” he’d smirked, settling onto the stoop beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you grimaced, remembering how proud he’d been when you quit. He rested his head against your shoulder, eyes watering with a yawn.

“S’late,” he grumbled sleepily. “N’you smell now.”

“I’m sorry,” you’d repeated, stamping the cigarette into the concrete. “Today was just… hard. Couldn’t sleep.”

“S’okay,” Joel told you. “Just don’t like it when you sneak out on me, yeah? You know I ain’t judgin’ you.”

The only thing that frustrates Joel, is that he comes, and you don’t.

And it’s not a frustration with you. No, it’s a hot faced guilt that spreads through him every time you fuck. Evident in those frantic touches, desperate pleas of your name, of tell me what to do, tell me how to help, of fuck I’m sorry.

Because you still want him, despite it all. Still can’t help your wandering hands, your fingers that tease back his bed sheets and then his boxers and coax orgasm after orgasm out of him, night after night.

Tonight, you thought, would be no different.

Covers strewn across the end of your bed, pillows askew, you sit astride his lap.

It’s hot; the AC in your apartment has been broken all week, and your thighs are tacky with sweat where they press against his skin. Everything wet – sweat in your hair, slick between your thighs, the soft squelching sound that raises with every press of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” Joel pants, hands tight against your waist. “I can’t—goddammit, I’m not gonna last, baby.”

“It’s okay,” you moan, eyelids heavy as you rock your hips over his.

It’s late, and you both have work early in the morning, but the burn is so good like this. The heavy weight of him reaching so far, pushing the limits of what your body can take. For years it’s been your favourite way to fuck him; poised above his body, admiring the way his stomach tightens and his eyes roll when you sink down on his cock.

“What can I do?” his voice is strained, the veins in his neck bulging as he holds his breath – anything to stave off the impending high.

You only whimper pathetically, grinding your hips into his. Can feel everything in your stomach knotting up into a white-hot ball.

“Hey,” Joel urges, hand landing in a soft slap against your outer thigh. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know,” you cry out, shaking your head. “It’s right there, but I…”

“But what?” he murmurs, hips snapping up again.

“I don’t think I can,” you finally admit, eyebrows drawn tight in frustration. Your lower lip is bitten raw at this point, incessantly gnawed at by your own teeth. His grip tightens on your hips and he drags you upward until his length slips out, falling against his stomach with a wet smack.

“C’mon, tell me what you need,” he says quickly, and you’re sure that the desperation you see in his eyes is mirrored in your own. Pupils blown round and fat, endless black—pleading.

You stare down at him for a moment. Watch the way his chest heaves with harsh, stilted breathes. How little dots of sweat have gathered at the hollow of his throat. And fuck, you want it so bad.

“Top drawer,” you exhale roughly, pointing to the side table.

Joel doesn’t question the order. Doesn’t say a word as he spreads a long arm across the bed, yanking the drawer open and shoving his hand inside. You watch him rifle around for a moment, pulse increasing as you wait for him to find what you want. What you need. And you can tell when he does; his shoulders stiffen and he lets out a choked sort of sound, pulling out the black wand and shoving it into your hand.

“Show me,” he says, eyes wild.

Your finger drops down against the button, turning your hand to show him which one to press.

“There’s four settings,” you murmur, slipping it back into his palm.

“Does this normally help?” he asks, grunting softly as you grip his cock, notching the tip back at your entrance.

“Sometimes,” you sigh, sinking down, sucking in the heavy weight of him. “Can still take a—a little while.”

He presses the button tentatively, watching as the rounded head of the wand starts to vibrate. Spread open around him, he can see your swollen little clit so easily, and he lowers the wand to press against it. Your body jolts forward, mouth splitting open with a groan as heat flares through you. Your hips stutter against him instinctively, chasing that intense feeling, and he looses a gravelly moan at the feeling of your wasted cunt squeezing around him.

“Look at that,” Joel grunts, dark eyes trained on your face. That wicked pink tongue slips out to wet his lips and he nods in encouragement. “I know, baby, I know it’s a lot, you feel good?”

“Yes,” you gasp, jaw going slack as you settle into the feeling. “Fuck, yes, it’s good, it’s good.”

It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before; nothing your past boyfriends had ever been comfortable enough to try. It has the muscles in your thighs tensing up already; the thick press of his cock paired with that unrelenting, almost overbearing, vibration.

“Can feel it,” he hisses out, head tilting back into the mattress.

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he nods, expression grim. The muscle in his jaw twitches. “So fuckin’ tight like this. All wound up, y’need it so bad, I know.”

You moan, eyelids fluttering as he presses the button again, notching it to a higher speed. You lift up slowly and then press back down over him, and the two of you groan in unison. His free hand falls against the curve of your ass and he squeezes, encouraging you to rock against him, starting up a steady pace.

One of your hands settles on your chest, fingers twisting and pulling at your nipples. You need more, always more, something, anything.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” Joel mutters, and you can tell how fucked out he is already as he watches you. Dark eyes glazing over, mouth hanging open deliriously. “My pretty girl, so damn good for me.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest and you whimper, appreciation for him flooding your senses. He’s been so close for so long tonight already, teetering precariously on that edge but holding off for you. Fucking you into the mattress before pulling out and tucking his face between your thighs, doing his damnedest to get you to that same place. Urging you to get on top, to take what you needed, to use him to get yourself off.

“I love you,” you mumble breathlessly, eyes pinching closed as something sharp starts to tingle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel snarls, hips snapping upward.

“What ar—” your words cut off with choked moan as he clicks the button again, and then again, taking it to the highest speed. Your shoulders shake and you tilt forward a little, hand gripping his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Joel,” you cry out, chest heaving and stomach tightening.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, searching for something to ground yourself against. That firm press against your clit doesn’t falter for a second, and you let out a rough moan.

“Good,” he grunts. “Good girl, give it to me.”

The muscle in his bicep spasms and strains beneath the skin, everything pulled taut as he keeps the wand pressed firmly against you. And it’s almost painful, the way you can feel your high coiling inside you, burning, but never quite reaching fever pitch the way you need it to.

A symphony that builds and billows and writhes within you. Sloping swells of violins and cellos and trumpets. Up, up, up to that shattering crescendo you just can’t seem to reach.

“Joel,” you mewl, and there’s tears in your eyes, on your cheeks. Hot, fat tears that stain your face now, dripping from your chin to splatter against his chest.

“C’mon now,” he grunts, hips shifting up off the bed, meeting you thrust for thrust. The stretch of his cock is so wide, so deep, and every shift of his body punches the air from your lungs.

“I don’t know if I can,” you shake your head, stomach on fire. The vibrations are so intense, the speed so fast, you can feel your clit going numb beneath it. But Joel doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop the fast pace of his hips. The muscles in his abdomen twitch under you, tan skin glistening with sweat.

“You’re so close,” he goads, jaw tight. “Don’t fight it, baby.”

“Stop moving,” you beg then, your voice a high keen. Joel stills instantly, wary eyes darting across your face. He doesn’t pull the vibrator away though. Not yet.

“Fuck,” you cry out, hand firm against his stomach. “Just let me-just—”

Knees on fire against the bed, you grind your hips down into his. Gasp as his cock presses hot and heavy against something deep inside of you that sets your entire body shaking, vibrating against him; buzzing at the same high-speed rhythm as the wand between your legs. You rut against him again and again and then something pulls tight and hot at the base of your spine.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, eyes widening. “Oh god, Joel, I think—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” he moans. A bead of sweat rolls from his hairline to his chin. “You’re okay, let it happen.”

“Touch me,” you say, breathless and needy and so so desperate. “Fuck, please.”

Joel groans – a deep, guttural thing. A sound that comes from somewhere in the base of his stomach. It rattles your bones and has your fingernails digging into his stomach, and then his hand is on your chest. Rough fingers squeezing and stroking and pinching and you’re gasping, keening his name as he whispers frenzied words of encouragement and it’s building it’s building it’s building and and and—

Everything goes silent when you come. It’s all blurred vision and deafened ears; an intense ache in your jaw from the way your mouth hangs open. You can feel a vein in your neck, raging beneath the skin; a staccato rushing sound that echoes inside your head.

And you think you can hear Joel’s voice, somewhere beyond it all; Fuck, there it is, good girl, good fuckin’ girl.

When your eyes flutter open, you can only see Joel’s face swimming in your vision. His eyes rolling back, lips parted as he snarls your name.

“Fuck,” he spits. “—yeah, that’s it, there we fuckin’ go.”

You feel his cock kick inside of you; fast jerking spasms and then a warm rush as he starts to come. Your hand wraps around his, pushing the wand to the side of the bed, but he doesn’t fucking stop. He grips your waist and fucks up into you, spitting curses and warbled slurs of your name as he pumps you full of his hot spend.

It’s obscene – a mix of your come and his, squeezing out around his girth and smearing against the inside of your thighs. It pools around the base of his cock and you whimper at the sight, swollen cunt still tightening around him. Only when you start to sag down against his chest does he rest, his thighs twitching and tensing with the aftershocks of his high.

Joel raises a hand, calloused thumb brushing the tears from your cheeks. Then, carefully, he grips the back of your neck, guiding you down to rest against his chest.

Your shoulders slump and you press a lazy kiss against the jut of his collarbone. And for a moment there’s just this. No sounds but that of heavy breaths and a soft buzzing, forgotten somewhere in the sheets. The swipe of his fingertips down your spine, your lips against his salty skin. A gentle tap against your waist and he’s slipping out of you with a sigh, but not letting you pull away, not letting you move from where you’ve collapsed directly on top of him.

“Missed that,” you slur sleepily, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“Me too,” he mumbles. “Did so good. Made me proud.”

“S’that right?” you smile against his skin.

“S’right, baby.”

You hum, dragging your head up to press a kiss against his mouth. Both of you so exhausted that it’s just a brief, lazy swipe of your lips, but it’s enough. It’s thank you.

“Shower?” he suggests softly, smiling up at you.

“Or… cigarette?” you respond, eyebrows raised, teasing.

“Watch it,” he smarts, laying a quick smack against your ass before nudging you off of him. He stands and holds out a hand to help you off the bed, tutting underneath his breath. “Although I guess you’ve earned it.”

a/n: in hindsight, idk why the fuck i wrote that it took them six months to try this but what can you do lmao.

thank you for reading! x

#my writing #fic: take your medicine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot

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livingformintyoongi · 14 days

Text

BTS fic recs

I wanted to do this a while ago, but felt like I hadn't read enough, until I checked my likes and got a shock to the face lol. I wanted to give some recommendations of some fics (and a series) that I quite enjoyed reading, plus leave a small review because I feel like it's very underrated to comment on what you like something (people, comment more, I swear it makes a writer feel so much better than a like). There's the occasional spoiler in the reviews, so I recommend you read it carefully or just skip the comment ^^.

Dawning by @wintaerbaer JJK

summary: He’s never invited into your world during these late night sessions. You always push him away or ignore him. This is new. warnings: heavy depictions of depression and panic attacks, a brief line where taehyung worries oc is s**cidal. I really loved this fic. For a moment I thought it was some kind of two shot or something, but it only has this one part. Still, I felt the author captured the emotions very well. It felt so realistic that even I was worried when Y/N disappeared lol.

Bottle up old love by @wintaerbaer KTH

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep. warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming. This fic made me remember why I love the exes to lovers trope. I loved seeing Jungkook as a tattoo artist, it's like, I don't know, so him, anyway, I loved it. I just found this account yesterday in the wee hours of the morning and I'm already loving it <3.

Cat-astrophe & Cat-enaries by @dumpywrites MYG

Summary: Your pet cat keeps going to your neighbor’s apartment and it’s a problem. I fell in love with this Yoongi like you have no idea. When I just read the first part I was so eager to keep reading, seriously, I loved it, it deserves so much love.

Two Days by @dumpywrites JJK

Summary: He just wants you to give him two days. He'll take you on a few dates and you'll decided if you actually like him? Or not? I live for Jungkook being simp of the reader, I feel it's so real lol. This fic made me feel so warm inside, it was too cute to read. It's kind of like my comfort fic.

S'more than friends by @borathae MYG

Warnings: subby!Yoongi, switchy!Reader, consumption of beer, so much awkward tension, jealousy, sex in a tent, mutual masturbation, handjob, fingering, making out aye, Yoongi loves her boobs and she loves his butt it’s a win-win, sex while other people are sleeping, public sex, she has a thing for his hands (but what’s new lmao), fluffy post-orgasm talks because I’m soft. I read it a while ago now, but I remember when I did I felt so soft. This Yoongi is just too cute.

Please don't go by @httpjungkookcom JJK

Summary | Jungkook’s never kept anything from you, ever. Not even the time where he tripped and accidentally kicked your dog, or when he fucked the most popular girl in high school and couldn’t make himself cum (poor guy was embarrassed for weeks), or when he accidentally rubbed all of his acceptance letters in your face without realizing. To put it short, Jungkook is an open book to you. So when he suddenly disappears, there’s a lot to question. Even more to question when he finally gets back and won’t tell you anything, going as far to avoid you. You’re on a mission to figure it out, even if it kills you. Index | Jungkook is so smart, but so stupid at the same time. Jungkook is not sly in the slightest. Kind of angst, fighting, arguing, bickering, etc. Criminal activity, it’s a Spider-Man fic. Injuries and mention of blood. College setting and age, reader and Kook share the same major. Some cute fluffy moments in between all of the action. Aunt Yoon is essentially Aunt May in the Marvel story line. Spiderkook, is more needed to read this fic? It was the first one I read about this au and I was WONDERED. God, you can't imagine how much I loved it. I thought it was so cute the way Jk approached reader being in his suit….

Accidental roommates by @jjkeverlast JJK

summary: moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace. yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate. warnings: second hand embarrassment | jungkook's abs | annoying antics | suppressed feelings | both of them are stubborn and petty (it's gets tiring lmfao) | mentions of past relationships | a lot of time stamps | sexual tension | ft. namjoon 👀 | !constant change of perspective between reader and jungkook. I have a tremendous weakness with dilf, no matter who it is, I just love them. I think this was the first one I read by Jungkook. It was so fun and easy to read that the 14.7k words flew by for me.

Silk & Stones by @taegularities KTH

Summary: “Taehyung was a writer… he was a writer indeed.” Kim Taehyung knows his way around words – they cast a spell on your heart and mind, leave you gasping dangerously fast. Until the mystery behind his persona unveils and his touch, along with his words, becomes a vivid memory. warnings: writer + violinist tae 🥺 who’s a gentleman in the 19th century, brief mention of injuries/a mental institution, misunderstandings, heartbreak, secrets, grief, much poetry (and my attempt at writing a poem, pls spot), much disgoosting fluff, flirting and lots of sexual tension; explicit sexual content: 2 sex(y) scenes, fingering on a boat, choking, teasing, begging, praising, soft dom!tae, big dick!tae, tiddie fondling/sucking, some manhandling, dirty talk, they’re just so cute :((, oral (f. and m. receiving), some masturbation, oc is into neck kisses, some biting, fingering, hair pulling, asking for permission :(, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (it’s the 19th century...), aftercare; there’s quite some angst ok; lmk if i forgot smth !! This was a work of art for me. I felt so immersed in the story, so confused by the time changes and everything surrounding Taehyung, but I loved it, one of the best stories I've read of Taehyung since I joined tumblr.

17 going on 27 by @hansolmates JJK

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england. I love adaptations, especially ones that add their own touch, and the writer did it so well. She made me hate Jungkook, and then love him, and then hate him again, in the end I ended up resenting him, I wanted reader to stay with Jin lol, but I still loved it. Definitely my favorite part was having Jimin as a best friend, I loved watching him take on Jungkook in the car. We all need a friend like him.

Hot Bot by @httpjeon JJK/PJM/KTH/JHS

JJK: You order a sex robot online after getting a coupon for half off. however, there’s something strange about yours. PJM: Fear is primal and causes one to make stupid decisions. KTH: Your parents have a gift for you, however, there’s been a mistake. JHS: As a product tester, you have one of the most sought after temporary positions in Hot Bot Inc. This is a series that has smut, I think the name gives it away. It's rather sad that the writer is on hiatus, but he left the gems of his works open to the public. The series is pretty good, I fell in love with Jungkook (and Yoongi kskjdsksjds). Highly recommended.

The proposal by @hansolmates JJK

summary; Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. genre/warnings; the proposal!au, fake marriage au, enemies to friends(!!!), friends to lovers, bouts of flangst, dry humping, slight blood but not too bad, lang, alcohol, poor jjk discovers he has the ability to feel emotion, poor y/n is in the middle as always. I was looking for an adaptation of this movie for so long that when I found this one I almost cried with emotion. I LOVED the movie and the concept it had, and I was so happy to read this fic that captures that very romcom essence that the movie has. I loved it.

Marshmallows and report cards by @untaemedqueen KTH

Warnings: Impreg Kink, Marking, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Birthday Sex, Spitting, Begging, Praise, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Big Dick!Tae, Multiple Orgasms, Unprotected Sex, Possessive!Tae, Cock Warming, Creampie. I already confessed, this kind of fics get to me. I remember reading it and melting with the ending. I read it a long time ago, so I can't give a longer opinion, but I do remember that I loved it and came out internally squealing after I finished it.

Orange tulips by @kainks JJK

Summary: You’d remember Jungkook with every life you lived. Only he’d never remember you, never recall how your fates were written in the stars since the beginning of time. Genre: Angst. Fluff. Light Smut. The anxiety and helplessness I felt reading this fic are on another level. This scarred me, I read it once and I was never the same person again. It was wonderful, I felt so many things and I was so nervous during the whole reading that I almost didn't even realize when it was over. It is a very enjoyable fic.

What if I love you too much? by @taleasnewastime

Summary: Jungkook. It’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. Before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. And though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. You don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. Because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. All the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself. Warnings: Single mum, small fights, explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), safe penetrative sex, reader thinks Jungkook is cheating/playing the field, angst, but also fluff, child gets injured (though not seriously), talks of cuts and a small amount of blood. This fic left me feeling bad, it even made me question some future decisions regarding my relationship with my future partner and the necessary communication that must be had in a relationship from the beginning, especially if there is a child in the middle. It was something I really enjoyed reading, and even though I had my internal dilemmas with Jungkook, the drabbles in the story helped me a lot to let go of my grudge (I swear I have nothing personal with him sksjkajskajsj).

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januaryembrs · 2 months

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THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

previous chpt | next chpt

'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7.

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now.

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included.

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings.

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up.

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt.

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t.

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around.

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help.

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover.

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,”

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,”

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her.

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard.

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her.

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside.

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?”

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again.

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her.

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances.

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece.

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare.

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching.

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up.

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms.

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly.

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help.

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face.

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried.

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing.

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home.

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her.

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic.

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed.

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it.

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking.

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed.

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her.

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more.

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm.

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few.

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book.

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,”

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation.

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?”

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend.

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words.

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised.

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse.

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out.

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit.

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t.

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,”

Nothing.

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of.

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot.

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver.

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,”

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then.

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,”

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out.

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle.

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before.

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise.

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,”

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished.

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack.

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese.

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this.

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her.

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,”

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?”

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid.

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty.

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there.

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her.

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now.

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound.

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too.

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning.

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol.

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.”

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile.

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,”

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks.

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway.

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in.

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later.

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing.

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months.

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was.

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again.

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door.

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time.

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years.

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab.

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed.

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was.

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans.

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!”

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with.

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought.

This never happened.

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning.

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s.

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage.

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more.

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom.

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit.

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down.

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her.

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought.

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her.

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke.

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,”

“Hm?”

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks.

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,”

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her.

He felt like a fool.

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.”

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,”

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth.

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly.

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.”

He would be lying if he said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder.

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock.

She kissed him. She had kissed him.

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again.

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together.

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep.

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow.

–

taglist:

@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions@the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @sadbae-33

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #matthew grey gubler x reader

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kitscutie · 11 months

Text

august (conrad fisher x reader)

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗋𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗂ꜱ𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀ꜱ: ᖯ𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗄𝗂ꜱꜱ𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝖺𝖽 ᖯ𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗒, ꜱ𝖾𝗑𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗋𝖺𝖽

𝗉.ꜱ: 𝗂'𝗆 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗉𝖺𝖽 ꜱ𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗇ꜱ𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 ᖯ𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂ꜱ 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 - 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗒𝗅𝖺𝗇, 𝗂𝗍'ꜱ 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗃𝗎ꜱ𝗍 𝗒𝖾𝗍 ᖯ𝗎𝗍 ꜱ𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖾𝖽!

ꜱ𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗋𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 ᖯ𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 ꜱ𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 ꜱ𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄-𝗎𝗉ꜱ 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺ꜱ𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋ꜱ, 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒ꜱ, 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 ᖯ𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗒 ꜱ𝗁𝗈𝗐ꜱ 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 ᖯ𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽.

a/n: been wanting to write this for a while so BOOM here it is, sooo excited for season two, also im in a deep dylan obrien depression i need help :p ALSO sorry like all my fics are in different styles at the start i'm experimenting atm!

You and Conrad Fisher had known each other since you had popped out of the womb nineteen years ago in the same hospital, only a floor and two hours keeping you apart.

Your moms had been friends since rooming at college and so your friendship, some might say, had been written in the stars quite literally. Fate.

Things had started to change on your sixteenth birthday. It was just before the annual summer reunion, and of course, you and your mom had gone down just one week earlier in order to have a joint birthday celebration with the Fishers and stayed until the Conklin's arrived.

You had hit puberty and he hadn't seen you since the big change but when he did, his eyes could've fell from his skull. It was almost comedic. Of course at the time his stares meant little to you. He was your best friend after all.

Until last year. It was the start of summer bonfire and all was normal. Belly was at home, Jeremiah was off talking to girls with Steven which left you and Conrad. You found it strange he didn't have the same interest in girls as Steven and Jeremiah but who were you to say anything. You wanted him to stay.

Long story short he finally made a move and a kiss began in the abandoned life-guard tower a couple feet away from the main event, it was all going well, almost too well. And you were proven correct when Steven and Jeremiah came down the beach looking for you and found you in that very compromising position.

Seeing as they weren't exactly in a place to talk they agreed to keep it a secret and so it became the new norm for them, seeing the two of you together while your mom, Susannah, Laurel and Belly were non the wiser.

The bonfire was in full-swing, Summer had officially begun and what better way to start it than in the lap of Conrad Fisher on Cousins Beach.

He was sat cross legged on the blanket you'd brought from the house, while you sat atop him, legs either side of his own.

"I just think we should be nicer to her, I mean that was us three years ago." You sighed, you'd had a beer or two and were feeling increasingly guilty about the disallowance of Belly to come tonight.

"None of us were allowed out at sixteen, it's only fair." Conrad replied, voice low and relaxed. Something you appreciated about him, he was a very soothing person.

"Yeah, but that's different! We all had each other and now-" You began but he cut you off with a groan.

"Can we please not talk about Belly when your sat on me?" He said, smile gracing his lips.

You began to 'ew' and berate him but were soon cut off by his lips on yours, one of his hands holding your jaw in place while the other sat comfortably on the upper part of your thigh.

It didn't take much for you to open up, his tongue instantly hitting against yours as he deepened the kiss. When your mouths disconnected, it made a sound which made your head go light and airy.

"Do you still feel bad?" He whispered. Hand moving up to put a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"No." You answered, shooting forward to connect your lips once more. He chuckled into the kiss, teeth clashing together but you didn't care you just wanted him.

His spare hand slowly and nonchalantly drifted to the hem of your shorts, groping your ass gently, you were still in public after all and Conrad wanted to be able to say he had an ounce of class and respect. Even if it was a lie.

A disruption to the left of you and Conrad caught your attention and you went to turn your head, lips still interlocked but he denied that, hand on your jaw tightening and turning your head back to look at him.

The final straw was a resounding 'Ooh' from the crowd and you decided no matter what he did you were going to see what was happening.

Finally turning your head you found Belly. On the floor. And looking directly at you. A lot was wrong with that.

"Shit, Conrad." You said, which finally got his face away from placing delicate kisses across your jaw and to see the same thing as you. His face also dropping.

"Belly?" He said, unable to stop himself in disbelief.

Really this would've been the right time to get out of his lap but you were frozen in fear, forgetting you were sat there in the first place.

"I thought me and Y/N were like your sisters." She said, anger painted on her face. You didn't like confrontation in the first place and so saying something was hard but you couldn't let Belly think badly of you or Conrad.

"Belly look- it's different-" You defended, but she once again cut you off in anger and while your throat tightened in anxiety, you felt Conrad's hand soothe over your back. Reassuring and subtle.

"Different? I know him just as well as you do. It's not different." She seethed. Stepping closer to the two of you.

"Belly, c'mon you know what I mean." You whispered unintentionally. Your eyes were going glassy, feeling looks from all around you. Some in agreeance with you, some with her but none knew the full story.

"We've been together since last year. It was after you left to take Steven to look at Colleges." Conrad stepped in while Belly processed. Preventing another dig at you.

"I thought you weren't ready for a relationship and that, may I remind you again, we're like sisters to you?" Belly replied.

"I didn't-" Conrad started though a hurt look from you cut him off. "Look I said that like two years ago, it isn't even relevant anymore. Clearly." He said. Eyes connecting with you to reassure you, not her.

"You're such a brat." He added, seeing the affect her words had on you.

"Well you're an asshole." Belly yelled back, all while you sat stunned and quiet.

"Belly! You came, great, we can all hang out." Jeremiah said enthusiastically running over. You appreciated his intervention, as obvious as it was that he was trying to distract her.

"I'm about to take her home." Steven cut him off.

"What?" Jeremiah said, confused. Though the situation was bad she was old enough to be out past ten pm. Whether Steven liked it or not.

"Yeah, we're leaving, are you kidding me?" Steven replied as if it was obvious. Grabbing her hand.

"Ok, Steven come on. Go hang out with Shayla or something." Jeremiah answered and you couldn't help but admire the boy and his love for Belly.

You tore your eyes away from the conversation above you as they dispersed, looking back at Conrad who was sighing and pushing hair from his face.

"It'll be okay." You said, knowing what he needed without having to ask.

"I know." He smiled gently, though his eyes didn't fully match. He was worried, and you couldn't blame him.

Belly knew, and worst of all, just five months ago she had confided in you about her crush on Conrad and so it was unclear if she would ever even speak to you again.

Guilt was swallowing you whole.

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad x reader #conrad fisher #tsitpbookseries #tsitp fanfic #tsitp s2 #tsitp season 1 #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher x reader #chris briney #jeremiah fisher #belly conklin #tsitp #conrad fisher x fem!reader

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thatanimeramenchick · 3 months

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Hi! I’m new and wanted to ask if it’s alright you you could do something for Yander Lucifer?(Hazbin?) if not that’s alright!

Yandere Lucifer Headcannons

Ah, no problem, I’ve been waiting for this one. Out of all of the guys on this show, he is my personal favorite. I have suddenly become a fan of short kings. Also, hope you have fun on this personal little hell spawn known as Tumblr.

I feel like his character very much would be in line with soft yandere content. Despite being Lucifer himself, he comes off as very gentle and affectionate, wanting the best for those he loves, even if it means doing things that make them unhappy. He just wants what’s best for you. Or at least he thinks he does.

He also comes off to me as someone who is afraid to get too close to people out of fear of either disappointing them or hurting himself. Before making up with Charlie, he doesn’t talk with her much, seems to be internally clinging to the memories of the family he once had, and views most if not all of his citizens as too far gone to salvage. If he found himself with feelings for someone, I see him trying to push the object of his affection away, until something happens that causes his feelings to spiral out of control. This could be fear the of you being corrupted or permanently endangered; it’s something that pushes him over the edge to acting on the feelings he been trying so hard to push away.

Some of this manifests in being overprotective. He can present this as being a reasonable stance considering how dangerous hell actually is. Besides the typical problems of sinners running rampant and demons trying to trick you into deals, there are also angelic weapons floating around hell that you could be killed by even when it’s not extermination day. The idea of losing someone he cares for deeply in such a permanent manner is horrifying to him. He’d rather upset you by having you locked away by force than have you tainted by hell.

Has a jealous side, as can be seen with how he interacts with Alastor. Even as the king of hell, he can be quite insecure with his relationships considering his separation from Lilith and estrangement with Charlie. He can easily see other friendships in your life as competition, depending on who they are and how much time they want to spend with you. While he isn’t against the idea of you having any companions ever, he frowns on you spending too much time with them. Besides, they’re literally citizens of hell, why would you even want to be associate with them?

Tends to pamper you. He may have you trapped in a bubble, but he wants it to be pleasant for you. Anything that you wish that is within his power to grant he will do so happily. Your imagination is the only thing limiting you when you’re with him. Well, that and whatever restrictions have been placed on you to keep you “safe.”

Showing repeated frustration at his treatment, especially if you are being particularly passionate with shouting and tears, will leave him depressed. While he’ll try to hide it from you, in private there may be long bouts of self disgust and guilt. If you are lucky enough to find out about this and you’re particularly emotionally intelligent, you may be able to work this to your advantage. It’s your best shot at escaping him, as you’re definitely not going to be overpowering him any time soon and probably aren’t going to be able to outsmart him.

#hazbin hotel #yandere #yandere x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #yandere lucifer #yandere lucifer morningstar

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risuola · 10 months

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DO YOU WANT TO STAY? — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

After the painful breakup with Satoru, your friends dragged you out for the party to have you loosen up, but the night went very wrong and very right.

cw: smut, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, creampie, cursing, mentions of alcohol, brief violence, mentions of blood and very, very minor injuries (like scratches), little bit of post-breakup depression but nothing major; angsty vibes nonetheless, reader discretion is advised — 5,5k words

In the coldness of the dark night, you tried to get to your apartment, kick off those high heeled torture devices you’ve decided to put on earlier that day and just sink into the softness of your bed. Maybe right after washing away the concoction of cologne that lingered all over your figure, resulting from the awful experience that was clubbing with your friends. Fed up with all of the drunk assholes that tried to get into your pants with no shame whatsoever, you left, sending just a short text to Suguru. Resigned after trying to catch a taxi for few minutes, you moved by feet, cussing under your breath for the shoes you wore and if not for the filthy ground that disgusted you, you’d already be barefoot.

Padding in short, quick steps, you dumbly decided to cut the way with the shortcut that led you through the dark, stripped of most lights side-street-areas, the ones that nobody in the right mind would choose at any circumstance, but you were far from the right mind, when your feet felt like they were bathing in their own blood, with skin peeling through each and every step you pushed forward. And you thought you’re being lucky that night, seeing nobody in your way as you strode through the dark alley, before your hopes crushed in pieces as few men twice your size stepped right in front of you. Instinctively, you backed out and glanced behind yourself, thinking that maybe it still wasn’t too late to run back to the main street, but as you did that, the way closed by another wall of muscle. Trapped in the circle of misfortune, you noticed the metallic shine of bats few of them held loosely propped on their shoulders as they measured you out with their filthy eyes, grinning so wildly, you could see their teeth reflecting light even in the darkness of the alley.

“What do we have here, huhh?” one of them spoke and a mixture of laughs and chuckles, huffs and groans followed the question, along with many disgusting comments that made the horny men in the club look nearly innocent, as you thought about it.

“I’m just passing,” you said, swallowing the shake of your voice down to at least look like you were keeping composure, which you definitely didn’t. Resignation began flooding your system whilst the circle tightened around you, invading your personal space, making you feel smaller than you really were and causing your brain to forget all of the self-defense skills you had. It wasn’t much, but anything could possibly be better than just giving up, but you were already broken, doubting that any more damage could make things worse.

Just a month ago, you broke up with your boyfriend of twelve. It was heading towards the first real anniversary of your seemingly joyful relationship when everything crumbled right in front of your eyes, collapsing like a house made of cards. Satoru Gojo was everyone’s favorite – truly, everyone loved him – girls wanted to be with him, boys wanted to be him; students admired him, he was teacher’s favorite with his perfect grades, the know-it-all, the golden boy and even his enemies, that he had a lot of, would give everything to just once wear his skin and be him, be the infamous Satoru. And he was yours, for a year before the bubble burst and everything you tried to build with him shattered, along with your whole world. He was your whole world, you loved him sincerely, with all his flaws that he had quite a few, with all of his charms and wits, all of his handsome looks and every single one worn out, tired picture he hid from the outside world, but you were his inside world so you saw all of him.

When the break-up happened and the ground underneath your feet crushed, leaving you in shock so deep that you bluntly agreed to staying friends, as he briefly suggested in between his venomous spits, considering your shared group of close friends, but it turned out that staying friends after being so close and intimate wasn’t necessarily possible, at least for you. With memories of many nights filled with exploring each other’s bodies to the point of nearly passing out tattooed inside your mind, you couldn’t just watch as he poured his natural charm onto someone else than you so you quickly cut him off, removing his socials from your followings, removing him from your sight and retracting from any group activity with people that you called your friends as well. You couldn’t be in places where he was present, couldn’t see how effortless flirting was for him just days after he became free, how well he was presenting himself when you tried your best not to cry at the thought of him alone, not to say the sight of him with the crowd of thirsty girls at his feet.

It’s been a month and you still felt broken, so broken, in fact, that you were deliberately giving up fight in the threatening situation you found yourself in. It was your fault, after all, to try and cut your way short when you should never step into one of those side-alleys, aware of what Tokyo darkness’ hides. Silently, you hoped to just die here quickly, as you wished many times in the past few weeks, the heartbroken feeling slowly suffocating you inside the walls of your apartment that you trapped yourself in before your friends forced you out to club that night. And you pulled yourself together earlier that day, made yourself look presentable and even put on those fucking heels, determined to drown your sorrows in the sweet alcoholic drinks, to open up to new people, to feel like yourself once again and maybe, just maybe, find yourself a man, even if it’s just for the night because no one could replace Satoru. And you failed miserably, unable to have any fun in the crowded, sweaty space full of swaying bodies and disgusted at the thought of having sex with anyone there. You were never a party nor quickie kind of girl, you only began attending clubs with Satoru as he liked those loud musical gatherings and you found comfort alongside him, with the safe shelter of his protective arms the crowd around you seemed nonexistent and now, as the barrier of his muscles was taken away, you felt almost threatened by the drunk-dazed atmosphere so you ran away, giving in to your self-preservation instincts that clearly wore off when you turned into the alley off the main road.

“What should we do with you, princess?” one man asked, grinning widely and you felt the coldness of his steely bat underneath your chin that forced your head up enough to face him. “Oh, don’t cry, it’s gonna be soooo fun,” another added and it's at this point that you realized that a tear run down your cheek so you quickly wiped it away, wondering if it was caused by the fear or the wave of regret following the rush of memories that just a second ago flooded your system as you tried to recall why you even ended up in that situation, reminding yourself of the post-Satoru depression. “For us, at least. For you maybe not so much,” a laugh reached your ear from the back as you felt a hand gluing itself to the curve of your waist, and you flinched uncontrollably while your whole body was declining you anything above that movement. Cursing yourself, cursing the world around you, you tried to force your muscles to contract again, to move at any direction, to run if you’re lucky. Maybe the high heeled shoes could make for a weapon, maybe you could at least poke someone’s eye out, maybe you could do something, but instead, you did nothing. Squeezing your eyes shut and lowering your head, resigned and slowly agreeing to enter hell that was about to open right before you, you froze once again hearing a pained whine right behind your back. The palm that just a second ago was pressed disgustingly to your body was now gone and you were too scared to look at what happened so you stood in place, hoping that a black hole opened behind you, swallowing the man that threatened you.

“I’ll say it only once,” a voice you heard made your eyes snap open, but you kept them fixed on the ground, convinced that your brain, influenced by alcohol, fear and despair, was making things up at this point. “All of you, keep your hands off of her, understood? It’d better if y’all just run so nobody gets hurt.” You heard it again, you heard him again, the strict tone with honeyed undercurrent, and the shadows consumed your trembling figure as his towering body stood in front of you, effectively creating a barrier between you and the gangsters. You raised your head, your eyes run over the lines of his broad back until they finally landed on the messy head of snowy-white hair that even in the murky area stood out. He looked relaxed, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his varsity jacket and his head tilted slightly to the side. You took one step back but your feet met something that block it – that something being an unconscious body of a man that previously was touching your side. Stunned, you looked forward once again, only to see the scene of calculated violence playing out as Satoru easily dealt with hooligans. With quick, impressive displays of agility and strength, he put down one by one, effectively clearing the way for you to go home, but you stayed where you were until he finally finished the beating.

“Y’alright?” he asked and all you could do was nod when he grabbed your forearm, pulling you to leave the place of danger. Your body barely moved, tensed painfully and you felt the burn spreading along your skin from where his fingers were wrapped around your flesh. Forcing your legs to move, you tried to match his pace as he was leading the way towards your flat, hand still keeping a secure hold on you as he looked forward.

It’s in front of your building when you finally jerked your arm out of his grasp and he looked down at you, almost offended at how desperately you distanced yourself from his touch when before you’d lean into it instantly. Standing there, you finally locked eyes with his crystalline blue ones, that were looking down at you through the light strands of his hair and you couldn’t help but notice they’re longer than he’d usually keep them, crossing the length of comfort – as he used to call it – with the pukes irritating his eyes when below it. His seemingly neutral expression hid some tension, you noticed his brows creasing just slightly and his jaw flexing underneath the light layer of his skin.

“I leave you for what, few weeks, and you’re already getting in trouble?” he snapped rolling his eyes out of habit, but you could tell it was far from his usual teasing tone and he hated the way you were looking at him, or rather, through him. Your ability to see through every single of his little lies never annoyed him more than in this very moment, whilst you two stood awkwardly underneath the block you live in – the same one he used to live in with you, finding it convenient because of the shorter route he had to take from your place to college, comparing to the one he had from his own. “No wonder you’re in hot water when you walk naked through the shadiest alleys available.”

“I’m not naked, Gojo.”

“Gojo, huh?” he hummed in displease and chuckled bitterly at the unfamiliar sound of his last name rolling off your tongue. “That’s what you revoke me to? Not even a ‘thank you’ for saving your dumb ass a moment ago?”

“I don’t recall calling for your help,” you snapped, feeling the sudden wave of anger washing over you, as his words stung just as they were a month ago, but the angry feeling was gone as soon as it flowed in, when you noticed his hands. Knuckles stained in red, glistening in the street-lights as some spots were still bleeding after he punched down a little group of hooligans barehanded. In your defense. “You’re bleeding.”

“Another reason why you should be a little more thankful”, narrowing his eyes, he tried to hide his hands from you but you grabbed one of them and as you examined the damage, guilt began making your eyes wet, your mind unable to bear with the thought of any hurt happening to the man you still love so much it began killing you the second he was gone. Blinking the tears away, you exhaled. “Come inside, I’ll-“

“No need,” he grunted instantly, taking his hand back by force but you insisted, “please, let me at least clean these.”

Satoru started to regret the decision as soon as he stepped into your apartment, with all of the memories hitting him like a brick the moment he looked around the place. It looked all too familiar, everything so similar to how he left it a month ago, he was almost convinced you didn't change anything since that day. A blanket he bought you still hung loosely on the couch back rest, a cup from which he used to drink his morning coffee still was standing on the kitchen counter and even the chair in the living room was still pushed near the sofa, serving no real purpose for you whilst he liked to put his legs up while watching TV, being too tall to fit comfortably on your furniture. Everything felt so similar, like it was his home but now it wasn’t anymore.

“Come”, you snapped him from the trance and he followed you to kitchen island, where you already pulled the first aid kit to dress his injuries. You made him sit on the high-chair, while you kept standing on the ground and as you focused on cleaning his knuckles gently, Satoru could shamelessly analyze your features. Unable to deny your cute concentration, the corners of his mouth curled up just slightly as he noticed your brows furrow when you discovered more and more scratches along his skin. If it was his decision, he would just wash his hand at home and call it, but you always liked to take care of him and he often got home with scratches, sometimes getting them just to be tend by you, making you laugh at the unwise effort. If he wanted more attention from you, he could have asked – you always said, joking that although you’d try, you’re not sure if more attention was even possible as he took all of your mind. Now, as he looked at the precise movements of your gentle fingers, he wondered if he’s still appearing in your thoughts sometimes or have you pushed him out completely.

With a cloth and warm water, you cleaned the blood off his knuckles, revealing many little wounds that although shallow and harmless, will sting like hell when you use the disinfectant so you sighed quietly, already hating the thought of hurting him more. “There was no need for all that,” your voice was quiet enough, that if not for the complete silence of your apartment, he might have missed it. “You just got hurt.”

“And you might have been hurt much more than I am now,” he forced his tone to sound somewhat calm but his insides were burning. How could you say such things? How could you prioritize his well-being over your own, after what he’s put you through.

“I kinda wish I was,” you blurted out, pressing the gauze soaked in alcohol to his knuckles but it caused no reaction, as Satoru looked at you stunned. The words that just left your mouth were sinking in, and he found himself unable to speak.

“What do you even mean?” he forced finally, his voice lower and angrier and you tensed at the sound of his usual soft, melodic tone now stained with rageful undertones. “What do you mean, ‘you wish you were hurt’?”

“Pain that’s physical is easier to bear,” you replied quietly and cleared your throat, changing the subject as you finished wrapping his hands with thin, protective layer of bandage. “It should be good.”

"And what makes you so unhappy that you're that desperate for your body to hurt, huh?" Satoru asked, his face twisting in annoyance. "Surely, it cannot be me." The thought alone, the very idea that he might be the reason for you wanting to feel physical pain just to dull the mental made his insides turn with guilt but his effort to sound unbothered caused you to shut down and step back.

"No," you lied, packing up the first aid kit, looking strictly down. "It's nothing, forget it."

"It's not nothing, I want to know-"

"Not everything can always be as you want it," you snapped, walking away to put the kit where it belonged in the kitchen cabinet, silently hating yourself for the tears that moistened your eyes, hating the heartbroken feeling he fueled so skillfully with his nonchalant speech. You exhaled shakily, "y-you should go."

"Yeah. I think I should," he got up from the chair but instead of heading out, he circled the island in few large strides to catch your shaking hands and pull you into his chest. "But I won't. I need to talk to you. I have to."

"You said everything a month ago. You said enough back then, do you truly have anything to add?", the question rendered you hopeful that he's not going to say anything more because you couldn't take anything more. You were hurt through and through, your soul was crying and bleeding every second of every day since the one that broke you and you knew that you were way too close to the edge to take any more stabs of his sharp tongue and not fall down.

"Yes, I have," he kept you close but you don't fight. With your cheek pressed against his heartbeat and his strong hands secured around your shoulders and back, you kept yours down, hanging alongside your body afraid to touch him because if you’d allow your arms to embrace him, you might never let him go, risking another tear of your soul if he ripped away. "I want to apologize. For everything I did and I said then and now, and any time. I'm constantly talking shit, I don't know – fuck, I feel like sometimes my brain just shuts off. I'm sorry."

"You're what?", stunned, you forgot how to breathe and only whisper pushed through your mouth as you listened to his rambling.

"I'm sorry, y/n, sugar. I'm sorry, I've never... I didn't mean to- I don't know, I don't even know how explain it."

He spoke and your world stopped.

"What does that mean?", you asked, unable to hide the spark of hope that crawled into your voice as you breathed in his scent, absorbing his aura full of familiarity and warmth that you used to bask in every day since you got together. Your relationship always was heavily physical, it was the love language you both shared and you loved the way his hands never seemed to not be touching you, whether it was keeping you pressed against his chest or just smoothing over your hand with his fingers.

"It means I'm an idiot, that's what it means. No one ever I can love like I love you; I can't stop thinking about you, I can't sleep, god, I feel like I can't breathe. What I'm trying to say, uh... Fuck, I miss you, 'kay?"

"But you told me to go to hell", you reminded yourself and him as well, in your head replaying the cruel record that broke your world into pieces. "You told me-"

"I know", he stopped you from talking and you felt his body shifting slightly as his hand found your cheek, cupping it tenderly and lifting it so you looked up at him. Locking eyes with his light blue crystals you searched for the truth but couldn’t see anything. Satoru's heart broke once again when he noticed the intense shine of your eyeballs, wet from tears that you desperately tried to hold back. "That day I was... It was a bad day; nothing justifies it but I wasn’t thinking clearly. That day I hurt everyone around me, you, Suguru, Shoko, I even insulted Mei and she’s hard to hurt. Chain reaction of my stupidity, I ruined everything and as they forgot about it quickly, I couldn't bring myself to face you after what rolled off my tongue. And then I couldn't find you."

"I couldn't be seeing you so shamelessly flirting with everyone around you. I cut myself off", you said quietly, laying your hand over his own pressed against your cheek as his thumb smoothed over the damp skin underneath your lower lashes, wiping the salty residues away.

"I was being stupid," he sighed. His eyes lowered a little to glance over your lips, suddenly unable to resist you, losing the last bits of self-control the longer he looked at you. "It's you that I love, sugar." With that, his head lowered slowly, giving you enough time to push him away if you really wanted to, but you stayed in place, as if you were expecting what follows so he pressed his lips against yours, squeezing the gasp out of your chest and you couldn’t fight him when he was kissing you like he's starved.

The moment your mouths connected made you feel dizzy and you felt your knees buckling underneath the weight of his feeling. Instinctively, feeling you lose your balance, Satoru grabbed you by the hips and lifted you effortlessly, sitting you on top of the kitchen island and wiggling his way in between your legs to keep your body as close to his own as possible. You whined quietly, feeling the cold marble underneath your naked thighs where the dress rolled up. The kiss became messier, burning with lust and longing and you wrapped your legs around his middle, pulling him even closer, already tugging at his t-shirt that realistically you couldn’t take off because of the jacket still hugging his broad shoulders. Gojo read your intentions and pushed the garment off, breaking the kiss just for a second so you could take the black blouse off of his toned body, revealing the light skin strangely clear of any nail marks and love bites that you usually adorned him with and he wore those with pride. Your hands glued themselves to the softness of his flesh, examining the bumps of muscles flexing beneath your touch, and he crashed his lips against yours once again, kissing you messy and teethy as your tongues danced to the fiery melody of desire. Satoru was quick to encourage your dress to come even higher, his hand reached to the back, where he knew a full-dress-length zipper was waiting to be pulled down and he grinned into the kiss whilst exposing your velvety skin completely to his disposal. Wasting no time, he took you closer, smoothing over curves of your perfect figure, squeezing your supple flesh and you melted into the touch of his warm fingers with a soft whine that you couldn’t stop.

Satoru moved down, smearing kisses along your face, through jawline and onto your neck and shoulders and you couldn’t hold back a quiet moan at the feeling of his plush lips sucking spots on their way down. Brushing through his silky white strands, you allowed him to push down the straps of your lacy bra and before you noticed, it was off and on the ground as the man lifted you up from the cold counter, heading towards the conjoined living area and soon dropping you onto the soft couch, following you closely. You bounced slightly off the pillowy seats as he hovered above you, his lips glued to your skin, marking and exploring every inch as he moved down to take care of your chest and you stroked his strong shoulders, scratching them red.

Your body jolted up when suddenly you felt pressure of Satoru’s fingers over your clothed clit, as he rubbed circles over the sensitive bud while his mouth worked your perky nipples. The way his tongue danced around the pebble and how his teeth grazed the delicate skin continuously made you forget your own name, but for him it mattered only if you remembered his. Your mind became hazy, you felt like nothing else existed except for the man above you and you made your way down to unbuckle his jeans, impatiently diving your hand right into his boxers and wrapping your cold digits around his already hardened shaft. His cock was thick and leaking, begging for attention and it sprung out long when you pulled him out the trap that was his underwear. Satoru moaned against your breast, for a moment forgetting about the nipple in his mouth that he was in the middle of teasing, when he felt your grip moving up and down his length just right, spreading the pre-cum over it, and he knew he cannot wait any longer. He raised up on his knees, taking the panties off your body and finally kicking away the rest of his clothes before he fell back over you. His face met yours in another passionate, wet kiss and you moaned into it, as he worked his fingers between your folds, bullying your tenderness shamelessly and forcing many more sweet whines and whimpers from your chest.

“Satoruuu”, you mewled and he grinned at the sound of his name coming from you. “Don’t tease me so much, please”, pleading, you tugged at his hair and he chuckled at the eagerness in your tone. But he knew how big he is and even sleeping with him regularly, he more often than not had to prepare you for the stretch that was Gojo Satoru. “Don’t wanna hurt you, yeah?”, he smiled, nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking softly at the pulse and you just wanted him inside, no matter the consequences. “I can take you”, you ensured, “please, ‘toru.”

And what kind of man would Satoru be if he denied a pretty lady what she wanted and if feeling the burn is what you truly desired, he was going to give it to you. Being desperate himself,he stroked his length few times more before he smeared the head along your soaked folds and aligned the tip at your entrance, already knowing he’s gonna see tears very soon. And he did – your cheeks dampened as the burning stretch paralyzed the nerves all along your body and the tearing pleasure waved over your entire existence. Satoru groaned low through his clenched teeth at how your velvety walls were squeezing around his shaft as he slowly bottomed out. “God, I love you so much,” he growled into your ear and your dead-grip on his shoulders softened, letting him know that he’s good to move so he dragged his hips back almost completely, engrossed with the way your tight pussy tried to suck him back. Hot wave rushed through your body, as he began thrusting slowly and purposefully, clawing at one of your hips to ground himself before he loses composure in the way your cunt swallowed him whole time after time. He supported his weight on the other hand on the armrest behind your head, and gven the access to his body, you allowed your hands to wander all over his well-build form, leaving scratches and crescent-moons here and there with your long nails. Your fingers moved on their own, subconsciously tracing over the familiar musculature, refreshing the memory of a body that was burned into your mind. A whimper left your mouth when Satoru rolled his hips into you quicker, picking up the pace gradually and it almost hurt how deep he reached, kissing every sensitive spot inside you and it made your mind go blank of anything that wasn’t him. You smoothed over his flexing biceps, squeezing it tightly when he adjusted the position of your hips to ram his own into them harder.

Smearing kisses along your jawline, Gojo tasted your skin with pleasured hums, drowning in divine feeling of your pretty cunt eagerly taking him in, listening to the whimpers and mewls intertwined with little I love you’s that slipped through your parted lips in breathy tones. Warmth began pooling below his stomach as he praised you for doing so well after such long time and you cried out a moan when his hips buckled up sharper and rougher. He was drunk in the godly presence that you were, intoxicating himself with everything that was you – your taste, the scent your delicate skin held, the image of your flushed cheeks glistening with tears that his size caused and those were the only tears he accepted on your face. Beautiful crystals of wetness gathering along your lashes as he split you open with the unforgivable pace he has set, pushing up against every sweet spot inside of you and making you lose every last bit of real-world connection.

Blissful daze suited you and Satoru couldn’t get enough of the sight of your fucked out expression, wearing the same one himself, as his pace stuttered due to the delightful series of twitches and flexes your pussy did around him. Your toes were curling, thighs shaking and it only made him go harder. In a messy cacophony of pants and whines, you managed to unknowingly call his name again and again, ridding Satoru of every last bit of clear-thinking as suddenly, he wanted to hear only that sweet sound of your breathless voice. The voice he’s been dreaming about for the last weeks.

His cock twitched and thickened inside of you, pressuring your sensitive walls even more as he collapsed on his elbow next to your ribcage, sliding his forearm below your arched back and reaching new angles as your hips rolled forward. His fingers curled over your soft flesh as he was slamming his pelvis into your own, his pace became messied, more rushed, as he felt your orgasm approaching. You creamed all over his shaft, the white gathering at the base of it, as your pussy tightened and squelched delightfully in waves. Your gaze was heavy and you couldn’t focus on where your hands were landing as you felt the bliss washing all over your figure. Your thighs were trembling, your nails run over Gojo’s back, leaving red marks that for sure will sting later and you held onto his shoulders for dear life when he picked up the tempo even more, chasing his own release. Smearing wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your chest, Gojo leaned into the dip above your collar bone, groaning and breathing heavily as in few more pushes, his orgasm snapped, rushing hot with his load spilling inside of you. You felt his teeth sinking into your skin right where your neck connected to the shoulder and you couldn’t help but moan once again at the new painful pleasure. His brute pace slowed down, becoming messy and languid and his body fell over you, weighing you down onto the couch. You wrapped your arms around him, keeping him from lifting up, not at all caring about his weight crashing your own. Last drops of his load were squeezed by your walls before he slowly pulled out, exhaling deeply against your skin and you laughed joyfully.

Your voice was tired, your entire body ached from the unexpected activity but you felt happy for the first time in a month, suddenly grateful for your friends to take you out that day. Satoru at first basked in the sound of your chuckle before he joined, overwhelmed by the blissful daze. Both of you were worn off, sticky and completely fucked out and yet deeply satisfied and although still far from good as a pair, it already was much better.

“Fuck, I love you so much”, Satoru breathed out, planting few soft, ghosting kisses over the imprint of his teeth that already began to bruise up, coloring your smooth complexion with reds and purples as the mark was blooming.

“Do you, uh-“, you started but voice died down your throat; you were terrified of an answer. Gathering the strength, you continued, “do you want to stay…? With me…?”

Satoru grinned handsomely as he lifted his head up and your sight met the crystalline blue gaze of his eyes. His white eyelashes fluttered when he blinked, mesmerizing you all over again with the magical look of his features, his cheeks still stained with the faint blissful flush and you looked at his face with hope. “Yes”, he finally spoke and you felt your heart banging against your ribcage, as if it wanted to jump through it and kiss him itself. “I want to stay with you. Forever.”

2K notes · View notes

shalotttower · 5 months

Text

Fractalize (part 1)

Title: Fractalize

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Summary: Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness.

Word count: 3700+

Characters: Chrollo x Reader (female)

Notes: yandere Chrollo, kidnapped, depressed and miserable Reader, Reader is dissociating a lot, morbid pondering, suicidal thoughts, explicit/triggering language/words, Reader's thoughts on possible sexual assault in future. Part 2

Fractalize - making things into smaller copies of themselves over and over again.

Sometimes you stand in front of a mirror and try to picture yourself in another timeline. One where your life didn’t take this specific turn. You try to imagine a different setting, a different apartment - perhaps the one you had before Chrollo started moving you around like a luggage bag. Maybe living in a cottage by the sea or an old farmhouse. Someplace rural, peaceful. With a garden and fresh air, far away from the city noises.

It's difficult at first, your reflection keeps slipping through your mental fingers every time you think the image is set in place. But with practice it becomes easier, sort of, so you can now see yourself clearly as you brush your hair - not here.

A blue dress on, made for nights at parties with friends. Laughing until your stomach hurts and eyes become sore. Making silly faces over alcoholic beverages. Or you can wear your favourite jeans with a high waist and head out to the pub, the same one with crooked stools and a broken sign. Drink cheep bear, eat greasy peanuts from a little bowl, listen to some small band play unknown and unheard songs.

Leave intoxicated, and everything is too fast and vibrant and wonderful until you're back home.

It's your favourite pastime now: imagine, remake and slip.

Imagine. Remake. Slip.

You don't quite remember the last time you laughed, a month ago maybe. Maybe more. Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness, dull, cold, you would compare it to a winter plastered all over your insides, but it's almost colder than that. It freezes everything and turns it into icicles hanging off the roof.

Remake, slip.

You have new vocabulary now.

"Mm" - is for when he asks you if you like a dress or a top and it doesn't matter how you actually feel about it, because it's going to end up being worn anyway.

"Okay" - is for when Chrollo sets another fancy meal for you on a dinner table and "Eat, don't be shy".

"I'm not hungry" - doesn't work with him, even if it's the truth. You always eat what's put in front of you, that's the rule, because he's not above shoving the spoon into your mouth, so you spare yourself the tears and sobs that will probably come with that. It's so bizarre: how much effort he puts into keeping you alive when you're anything but.

"Whatever you want" - is for when he asks you something that requires a choice, between two or three options usually. He's not one for an extensive list.

"If you say so" - for everything else.

You used to delude yourself with the idea that if you managed to appear pleasant enough, pleasant-talking, pleasant-listening, smiling a bit here and there, it would gain you some privileges and perhaps a bit more freedom. It did. But never where it really mattered. Those little things were absolutely inconsequential in the grand scheme. Yes, you can have that sweater, dear. No, you can't have your own bed. Yes, you can come shopping with me, if you give me a kiss. No, you can't take walks without me holding your hand.

Yes this and no that.

Those moments were fragile and so very takeable that they didn't give you any sense of accomplishment, just a short respite and bitter aftertaste that made you feel pathetic.

Wasn't worth it.

***

"Do you like animals, dear?" Chrollo asks out of the blue one day. He's reading something on his tablet while you're curled up on the couch, watching TV.

It's a new series that's been on the major channels for a few weeks, a mystery drama about a girl who moves into a house she inherited from her grandfather. The picture provides a distraction enough to have you forgetting where you are for a brief period three times a week.

You pull the blanket higher. "I do."

He knows it.

The girl on the screen finds a mysterious box hidden in the attic. Perhaps there's something valuable inside. Or information about her grandpa; your fingers tug on a loose blanket thread without much thought.

"What kind?"

Or maybe it's just a time capsule with photos and postcards and random objects collected over the years.

Or-

You had a cat before he took you. A foster grey ragdoll with blue eyes who liked to rest on your belly and bump her head against your chin. You called her Miss Whiskerton and kissed her little nose, because she did act like a proper lady - poised, dignified and entirely too proud to eat food mixed with medicine. The worst enemy Miss Whiskerton has ever had in her cat life was the corner of your couch. When you weren't paying attention, she would dig her claws into the fabric and leave thin lines. You hope that someone took her in.

She probably thought you abandoned her.

"Cats."

Chrollo hums in acknowledgment and continues scrolling through whatever he's looking at - maybe news or auction listings, you don't know nor do you really care. You shift under the blanket, pulling your legs closer to your body.

"We can get one, if you'd like."

"No."

Your answer is immediate and short, without thinking. You know it, you know him by now - there's nothing Chrollo does out of spontaneous generosity, it always benefits him in some way. And you've studied him enough to figure that any pet would only be a tool to keep you tamed and compliant. Puppies make life better. Happier, lighter, with goofy smiling faces and wiggling tails. Cats make life better with soft purrs and paws stomping on your chest. They're too easy to love.

"Why not?" There's a sound of tablet set on a wooden surface.

The girl on the screen is trying to solve a combination lock on the box when the TV switches off and your little world of carefully shot scenes and scripted lines vanishes. You don't need to turn around to guess where's the remote.

She almost had it, but now you won't know what's inside until Thursday evening.

Your reflection stares back from the dead screen, blank-faced and with a blanket pulled up your nose. It tickles a bit. "Because I don't want one."

A chair creaks. "Why?"

You close your eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. This is tiring. Always probing, digging, pushing. Trying to find chinks in your armor, but all you're wearing is just a flimsy dress with thin straps and a blanket you wish could swallow you whole.

"Don't need it."

"You said you like animals," Chrollo sits next to you and places a hand on top of your covered legs. He squeezes your thigh and you stare ahead, wishing he would just leave you alone tonight.

"I do." Your fingers twitch under the blanket, nails scratching at the fabric.

Strange. Sometimes it feels like he understands perfectly that you want to be alone, have time for yourself and don't want his constant physical presence. At the same time Chrollo brushes this all aside like old tin foil wrappers - insignificant. He pulls the blanket down and you cling on it stubbornly for a few seconds before letting go. His thumb and index finger grasp your chin and turn your face towards him so you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

There's such still intensity within him that made your skin crawl whenever he looked at you with this much focus and attention. You don't know what he saw there most times, it used to be fear or anger or sadness - right now it's none of these things. Everything inside you feels jammed and stiff.

"We should get a fish then," he continues, brushing hair out of your forehead. "You can watch it swim around, wouldn't that be nice?"

Chrollo talks to you like this sometimes, as if you're a child who needs to be convinced to eat veggies or take medicine. Like you're simple-minded and he's reasoning with you out of good will. It's sickening. You hate it.

"I don't want a pet," you repeat the words slowly. "If you're going to give me something only to take it away, then I don't want it."

His finger leisurely stroking your chin pauses at the edge of your bottom lip. Something flickers behind his eyes, it's barely noticeable but you've become good at catching those minuscule shifts. He smiles, yet there's nothing joyful about it. "Take it away? Why would I do that, dear?"

"Because that's what you do. Because that's how you are." You don't try to pull free from his hold, he'll only tighten it; not enough to hurt, no, he is too suave and polished for that - or wants to appear so - but enough for you to feel trapped under his palm.

There's something off about you, you can tell, but are not quite able to discern what or where. It sits in the very structure of your bones and eats away with ravenous appetite. An imbalance in the gut. Fever-warm body, cold fingers. Thoughts like potholes.

"And how am I exactly, according to you?" His voice is light, playful, a stark contrast to his eyes that study you with unnerving precision. Chrollo rarely loses his temper and never gets violent with you (yet, you correct yourself), but he has other ways of expressing displeasure, and they're petty, ugly and cold.

"Cruel," the word rolls off your tongue so effortlessly that almost frightens you; it's easy to tell the truth when you're this numb.

He looks taken aback for a split second, and the smile freezes. His hand stops midway to your hair. Then everything's gone.

Chrollo releases you and leans back into the cushions, almost thoughtful, like your observation is something that requires careful consideration.

"I suppose, it depends," he says finally.

"On what?"

"On how you choose to see things. Your perspective is bound to be biased, dear."

You don't respond.

To continue this conversation would be pointless and circular, like running on a treadmill, like everything else between you and Chrollo, really. He simply has too many answers to any possible argument, and no matter how convincing you manage to make them sound, he'll poke holes into each one. You don't want a fish. Or a cat. Or a dog, a bird, anything that moves and breathes and looks at you with big, trusting eyes.

Chrollo is cruel. Not in a way that's straightforward and brutal. Not in a way of someone who'd tear your limbs apart or rip off a fly's wing to see it wiggle. You have no doubt that he is capable of such a thing, but that would be uncouth. Cruelty in his case is a quieter, more delicate affair - in a way of a sculptor who'd chisel off everything unnecessary and unneeded, no matter the size or significance, to produce something entirely his.

His hands are soft, his voice is always composed, and he wears well tailored clothes. But the rest is sharp, clean and merciless.

"I think I'll go to bed," you say and push away the blanket.

"It's early."

"Mm."

He takes your hand just as you're about to slide off the sofa. Chrollo's always faster than you, always ahead and always observing, and that little realization while bitter is not so shocking anymore, more like another fact that you file away from your interactions.

You watch him. Wait.

"You're distraught," he says. "But you should know by now that there's no need for that."

Your hand remains in his grasp, limp and heavy.

"I don't enjoy seeing you upset, dear. Even more if you make false conclusions."

You turn to see the expression on his face - and there isn't one, at least not the type that most people would make. There are no frowning eyebrows, no clenched jaw that would indicate irritation, nothing like that.

"You're giving me too little credit," his tone is quiet as he runs his fingers up and down your wrist. "My intentions are not to hurt you. They are much, much sweeter than that."

"But you would," you say quietly and lean closer, ignoring the obvious implication behind his words. There is a hollow sensation inside of your head that prompts you to speak, everything is hollow - body and mind, heart, the space in your guts, your throat. "You would hurt me, if that's what you thought was necessary. Rip me apart and leave me deformed beyond repair, to fit into whatever framework you've laid, you would do that."

You're not being deliberately cryptic or fatalistic. These are your observations, based on a period of months spent together. They take root in no one being there for you anymore, in your phone which is long gone, in your closed accounts, your missing laptop and old clothes, the entire previous life in the city that has been discarded for something new. Chrollo was very methodical, you can give him that.

He doesn't listen, he studies your responses. Every single word. He has a talent for that, for absorbing everything about you while hardly ever letting you glimpse his interior - all that you know about him are tiny slivers which you picked up through living together, observation, accidental bits.

You expect him to contradict your statement, to offer a logical explanation why you're wrong, but instead Chrollo brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against your knuckles. The touch is light and dry.

"You're not entirely wrong, dear," he says and moves closer until you can smell his aftershave, something fresh.

His proximity is uncomfortable, it always is and probably always will be.

"I'm right then," you say.

"No," he keeps your hand in his grasp. "But you're not entirely wrong either. That's what makes you interesting."

There's a strange kind of fondness in his voice, it's subtle, yet undeniably present. You've never felt less interesting in your life, in a dress with thin straps that's too fancy for a lazy day at home and your bare feet and tangled hair.

"If you say so," you respond and slowly tug your hand free. "I really want to sleep now."

You get up, and he lets you go without another proposition. The blanket falls off onto the sofa, and before you slip into the semi-darkness of the bedroom, he says,

"Not beyond repair. But I like to believe we can both agree it doesn't have to come to that."

***

The drive feels endless. Houses and streets blur in a mix of colors, shapes and people, which soon change to an empty highway with greenery on both sides. Trees and fields, tall grass swaying gently in the wind and rare cars passing you by. Chrollo's hand is resting on your leg; he hasn't moved it since the car started, but you choose to ignore it in favor of your regular pastime, the one that's made of imaginary worlds and places where the timeline stretches differently.

Mostly it's just you and the layout of your fake apartment.

Imagine, remake, slip. Repeat the steps until it becomes muscle memory.

You have this daydream on loop now. Wooden floor and wide windows, lots of sunlight. Books everywhere, comfy clothes and not a single skirt in your closet. A cup of tea with honey in the morning, and Miss Whiskerton curled into a soft grey ball on your lap. You feed her salmon in a shiny bowl, occasionally she catches a lizard outside and drops the tail on your doorstep as an offering, looking immensely proud of herself.

A smile slips on your face without meaning to, a wobbly thing; you promptly wipe it off.

It would be a crime to show such blatant joy. This fantasy has become so sweetly personal that every fiber of your being resists even acknowledging it in front of Chrollo. He can sense a stray happy thought from miles away, like a hound, and will never stop prodding until everything is raw and tender. You've learned to say less in his presence, especially if it's something that has you invested. Chrollo knows how to pick things apart.

You lean your cheek against the glass. This world would never happen, never in a million years, but dreaming doesn't hurt anyone, does it?

Your grandma, wearing an apron, sets a tray filled with fresh pastries on a table, because she's amazing like that. She fusses and worries and pretends to scold you. For not calling enough, for not coming sooner, for not eating well. For leaving.

"Dear."

You almost jump.

Chrollo's voice brings you back where his hand is heavy on your leg, you're wearing a dress above the knee and aren't allowed to use scissors or knives.

"Mm?"

"That frown of yours," he says, turning into a small road. The surroundings change again, it's quiet here, not a soul in sight. "It's been there for fifteen minutes now."

You sit up straight and move your hair out of your eyes. Chrollo's a perceptive one, so this is a reminder not to sink too deep around him, unless you absolutely need it.

"Was just thinking."

"You do it a lot lately," he states and looks at you from the corner of his eye.

True, but you have no intention to confirm it. First, he won't like the reason behind these thoughts. Second, he will dig and try to worm his way in. No. Most of what you've been fixating on, staring out of the window like a mindless drone, or reading and rereading pages that you barely grasped, would fail to create anything more complex in his heart than desire to pull it out.

For whatever twisted reason, Chrollo cares for your well-being, or, more precisely, your acceptance of his advances. Yet his way of caring isn't nurturing in any sense.

Chrollo's interest (you don't dare call it love) is crushing, too heavy to carry - he'll find what troubles you and "fix it" in way that will twist it into something pathetic. Something that shows how you have nothing else to cling on but him. You're not stupid enough to keep falling into this trap. Being a slow learner doesn't mean you don't learn at all.

He's done it before. He'll do it again. So you reply, "I haven't noticed."

His thumb rubs circles on your thigh; you press your shoulder against the car door as if hoping it might open. It doesn't, much to your disappointment.

"What was on your mind then?"

Something you shouldn't tell him, that's for sure. Chrollo's watching you, even if his eyes are trained on the road.

"Random stuff," you say. Half-truths, half-truths are safe. "A weird dream I had this morning."

If you bothered to look, you'd see a raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of amusement at the corners of his mouth. You don't.

"Tell me."

You hate when he does that.

"It was boring."

"I'm interested in anything that made you so pensive."

Chrollo likes conversations with you, even if they're short. You can tell that he does, or he wouldn't be trying to make you talk and getting subtly frustrated when you choose not to. It never shows outright, Chrollo is very gifted at keeping his calm exterior, but there are certain giveaways like the slight tightening of his hand, an emphasized "dear", a pause here, or a quiet exhale through the nose. You could make a list out of these.

If you ignore him, he gets quiet and handsy or petty enough to throw away the only dress you feel comfortable in. Stop bringing you new books. Take you to places you hate.

It's always the small things that kill you, not the big, dramatic ones. The devils in the details.

"There was a lizard," you begin, and he hums in response, prompting you to continue. "It was cute with brown spots and a tiny tail."

Lies weave themselves easily, intertwine with truths and turn it into something that resembles a story.

"It was sitting on my windowsill and I wanted to pet it. A cat came out of nowhere and almost ate it, then I woke up. It's a silly dream."

There. Nothing to dissect here, not that you can see. Just a nonsensical dream, filled with random happenings and strange emotions.

"And that's why you frowned for fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, I got sad."

Yes, you think. Yes, Chrollo. I frowned, because I care for the damn lizard that doesn't exist, an animal from a dream. A stupid musing, nothing special, a very mundane and simple thing, because people do have silly dreams sometimes, and it's not a crime. It's not a crime and has nothing to do with that fact that I have a whole dream world where I'm not with you in my head.

"How peculiar. You never struck me as the type to get upset over something like this."

"You never asked," you respond flatly and Chrollo's hand on your thigh moves an inch.

It brushes up, closer to where you really, really don't want it to be, so you squeeze his fingers hard and redirect them to the curve of your knee.

"True," he says after a pause, not sounding too bothered. A month ago you would've brushed his hand off completely, probably that's why. Chrollo is convinced that with enough patience and effort he'll be able to close that final barrier between you both. Time, coaxing, a dose or two of endearment, some carefully calculated touch - but you'd rather stick a knife through your ribs than have sex with him. Or his patience will simply run out and he'll rape you. You're not delusional. Not a fool. "Well, that can be fixed. I'll make sure to ask about your dreams more often, dear."

You lean back into the seat and stare ahead, this time without anything pleasant on your mind. Of course he will. Of course he'll take this as a sign to dig deeper and invade that small bit of solace, Chrollo can't simply co-exist. He wants it all.

"Mm," you say.

Your new vocabulary is such a handy thing.

#hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere #hunter x hunter fanfic #chrollo lucifer x reader #shalott fanfiction

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ne-videl · 3 months

Text

𝓾𝓷𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓪𝓵 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓰𝓮

♡

yandere Poseidon x fem reader

hide your tears and smile, little goddess.

yandere, unhealthy relationships, objectification, angst, power imbalance, depressed reader, forced marriage, poor english, sfw. first half – Poseidon's pov, then yours.

word count: ~1.5k

a/n: hii everyone!! how have you been? I have no ideas. like, absolutely. art block I guess?? anyway, have some of my old stuff. this is my least favorite yandere trope, but I love angst, so sometimes I go for it. by the way, when I first started it, I wanted to write a super idolized fluff but... well, we have what we have, or "why you don't want to marry Poseidon". hehe big booba man hehehe

the endless ocean is noisy outside the huge windows.

today, the sea sings a memorial service for you.

two people at the altar – the god and his bride.

Poseidon wants to smile rapaciously at her shaking figure.

she's afraid, poor thing. who wouldn't be afraid? he is, after all, the god of all gods, known for his cruel and merciless temper, the lord of the seas.

and she will become his lady very soon.

[name].

her name spreads like ambrosia across his lips.

even her name is so ordinary, so human, as, indeed, everything else about his charming wife.

she was a priestess in Poseidon's temple: in his own, so there's nothing wrong in taking what was already his. he noticed her by accident.

[name] was sitting hunched over, touching some bright flowers with her bruised palms. he liked to visit this temple sometimes: it was quiet and peaceful in the atrium, noisy humans did not flicker before his eyes.

little human girl did not even flinch when he silently stood next to her, only continued to look with big and very sad eyes at the colorful flower bed.

at their second meeting, she greeted him.

at the third time, she dared to start an idle conversation.

the fourth, and she talked about life in the temple.

at the fifth time she asked why he was coming here.

Poseidon always stood silently next to her, looming over her like a suffocating shadow. he was amused by her chattering, and, unexpectedly for himself, found her presence soothing, pleasant, unlike other humans, the mere sight of whom made the eye of the deity twitch.

life was bad for her in the temple.

[name] told him, she was sent to this place when she was still a girl, and she spent her whole life by the cold blue sea.

new head of the temple did not like her, saying that there was nothing for women to do here. that she should get married, but who needs her?

Poseidon saw the marks of beatings on her girlish body.

so he took her with him. she served in temple made in his name, spent her short life at his domain – it is quite natural that she will become his wife.

of course, it is unheard of that god marries a human – but does he really need someone's approval?

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

Hades advised to propose to her. it's the way humans do it.

Poseidon did not ask for her consent, for him it was just a formality: of course she would say yes, he was sure.

he will dress her in the finest silks, she will own the most beautiful jewels on all Olympus, the sea itself would be at her feet – how could a human girl want more?

smile spreads across his face as he sees her eyes widen, as she begins to shake – no doubt, from embarrassment – and his palm rests protectively on top of her head.

of course she agreed, how could it be any other way?

his fiancee is incredibly sweet. but weak and naive at the same time, like the rest of the human race. but he will protect her, give her a better life.

she must be very grateful to him.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

Poseidon remembers their wedding well, how [name] looked in amazement at the beauty of Atlantis, at the greatness of his seas.

in white robes, with downcast eyes, she swore an oath binding her life forever to a cruel deity, accompanied by singing of nymphs and the sound of the ocean.

she was now a goddess herself, whether she wanted to or not. of course, she wanted to, it couldn't be any other way. she loves him.

and, as the new lady of the seas, she will spend her now eternal life by his side. Poseidon will make sure of this no matter what.

she fearfully puts her small palm into his, while he, her husband, leads her through the corridors of the palace. [name] is silent. probably still embarrassed.

from now on, she will be the most beautiful ornament of his possessions, the shining pearl of Atlantis – his precious property, belonging only to him. and the sparkling ring on her tiny finger was proof.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

"wife." – [name] immediately turns around, smiles, comes closer.

his hand rests on her waist, his grip firm, possessively strong. she doesn't notice.

or pretends not to notice.

over time, [name] got used to him, cheered up, blossomed. it couldn't have been any other way, right?

songs, dances appeared, bright flowers and ringing laughter in the cold and empty corridors.

she became friends with his brothers, was able to conquer the proud Aphrodite, whom she now called her friend with visible joy.

Poseidon is pleased to consider himself a good husband.

he loves to see his wife smiling, laughing.

even if it's not just with him. it's better to be patient for a while, he thinks, than to lose her cheerful chatting for the whole evening.

though, she's cute even when she's angry.

Poseidon was gentle with her. allowed her much, much more than others, even spoiled her. [name] was his wife, after all, so he had to make sure she looked good enough.

he's a good husband.

[name] never contradicted him, never raised her adorable voice at him, never was not too selfish.

although deep down, he would like her to become more spoiled. so that, like him, she would not tolerate anyone's presence, except, of course, her husband.

to think of it, why would she need anyone besides him? she can be quite happy within the walls of the palace.

Poseidon dismissed these thoughts from himself – for some reason, his wife liked to be in society, even if without him.

well, he's willing to put up with her quirks as long as she knows who should come first for her.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

the outfit given by Aphrodite was very becoming to his spouse. Poseidon loved to see her beautiful.

in luxurious clothes, undoubtedly worthy of the wife of a sea god, or in the warm candlelight in the night darkness of their shared bedroom, happy or shedding tears, [name] was equally beautiful.

the precious treasure of Atlantis.

he was never moved by her tears – even if she was crying, of course she loved him anyway. [name] is happy. so why make a big deal about it?

none of the pathetic mortals could take care of her like he did. none of them would love her the way he does.

"you are my wife. you're not going anywhere."

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

you didn't tell anyone about your sorrow: didn't share it with anyone – neither with Aphrodite, nor with the nymphs and mermaids, your husband's brothers remained in the dark too.

a little human girl shedding tears by the huge waves.

an unhappy goddess, forever imprisoned in an cold palace, surrounded by hypocritical deities, in the iron grip of an unloved husband, eaten alive by sadness and suffocating hopelessness of her position.

none of them saw you as an equal: you were only a curious little thing, a way to dispel eternal divine boredom, and the Olympians, of course, did not bother to hide this fact.

you didn't know what your husband found in you, and you didn't want to. sometimes you wished that back then, many, many years ago, he would have left you in that temple, or that you would run from the garden in terror, or anything. anything.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

you knew your place well.

by his side, always, no matter what. from the very day when you stood at the altar and did not dare to raise your eyes to your fiance, you were no longer anything human.

from that moment, you became an ornament, a property, a beautiful doll. nothing more.

Poseidon wanted to see you happy – and you smiled, laughed, you did everything that you thought he would like.

are you satisfied? please tell me you're happy. I'm scared.

scared.

your husband allowed you the freedom he thought his property could have, and you greedily soaked up every drop of it.

you're lucky, you told yourself, you're very, very lucky. It could have been worse. any other girl would give her soul to be in your place, – repeated, looking at your own reflection in the cold glitter of jewelry.

you must be like it yourself. a thing. a thing, of course, must have an owner, and a thing cannot be sad.

Poseidon's cold hand rests on your waist, pulls you into his arms, and you do not allow yourself to resist: you exhale into his neck, placing your small palms on his broad back.

your spouse is purring contentedly.

he's happy. you can relax a little.

ʚ♡⃛ɞ ______

sea nymphs comb your hair, weave pearls into thin braids, fold strands into an intricate hairstyle.

"what's bothering you, madam?" – the lady of the seas does not bother to answer, your dead calm gaze wanders over the high ceilings, walls and huge windows of your chambers.

a common topic of idle conversation among the Olympians was Poseidon's boundless adoration for his charming wife. cruel god who fell in love with a mere mortal – what a beautiful story.

even the ocean itself seemed to dote on you. whenever the warm waves caressed your feet on the coast, your dried-up insides were filled with melancholy. your body was here, in Atlantis, which became a prison for you, and your soul, which remained to pain in your chest human, floated far away. your tired mind wandered, and you are a little girl again, and once again the bright sun warms your childishly plump cheeks, and in your hands are colorful flowers, and the kind grandpa from the temple strokes your head.

Poseidon will be coming for you soon – as always.

as always, you will talk about something, laugh, sitting on his lap in the throne room. or in one of the living rooms, or in the bedroom – you were not allowed to leave him without permission.

you flinched when you felt his strong hand on your shoulder.

Poseidon smirked.

his wife is not going anywhere. she will stay with him.

forever.

not the best one of my works but uh well I felt like posting something

maaybe will be deleted since it doesn't look as good as I thought it would be in english

btw thinking about writing tartaglia fic soo the next one is probably gonna be genshin man again

thanks for reading!!

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #record of ragnarok #ror #record of ragnarok x reader #poseidon x reader #yandere poseidon #record of ragnarok poseidon #misha.writes #yandere

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