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predestinatos · 7 months

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too cold | MV1 ⋆꙳❅ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

pairing: max verstappen x female!reader

summary: stormy weather leads to stormy thoughts about a years long friendship.

tags: best friends to lovers, soo cheesy, fluff, giddy max, super whipped for reader!!, wearing his sweater, just so much softness!

author's note: i dreamt about max for some reason and he's been living in my head rent free so... i had to let this out!! hope you like it. it's a short cute thing so..!

word count: 3.5k

warnings: -

It was cold and stormy that day. You had expected it, the forecasts all telling you the same thing, your hair completely tangled in itself as soon as you stepped out of the house into the car.

You planned it all, including getting there earlier, so you could spend as much time with Max as possible – you never skipped the pleasant silence of his presence at least once a week. What you hadn’t planned was for you two to get carried away with taking buzzfeed quizzes and personality tests to the point where it was dark outside, the storm more aggressive, more threatening, and more dangerous.

“Shit,” you muttered when the wind outside made the windows tremble with extreme force, their sound almost like a warning voice in the night. “How am I going home like this?” you asked yourself out loud, desperate and scared, as Max completed yet another ‘What’s Your Mental Age Based on Your Choice of Cutlery’ quiz. He glanced outside nonchalantly, almost carelessly, as if the question was ridiculously easy to answer, close to ironic.

Before going back to the seriousness of the questions at hand, he shrugged, shoulders going up and down in explicit tranquility. “You can stay over” he stated, his finger hovering over a weirdly shaped spoon that said ‘shit stirrer’ on its surface. You let out a breath that indicated his joke was funny yet not useful in the slightest given your current dilemma, to which he looked at you and laughed back, assuming you were amused at the choice of teaspoon he had just made. “Max, I’m serious” you voiced your urgency and fear with those words. “Me too” he continued, eyes glued on the screen, yet slightly confused at your own comment.

At your audible sigh and attempt to get up from his bed, where you comfortably laid scrolling through your phone for options, he turned around from his chair which was facing the screen. “You’re not leaving” he said, in a concerned tone of a friend who refused to let you be consumed by the rapidly increasing rain. “I don’t understand what the matter is” he continued as he saw you searching through his room for your things, messily scattered on the floor, reminiscent of childhood times spent together.

You merely looked at him in response, the answer obvious to you but seemingly not to him, only hitting him hard in the face as a joke he couldn’t help but laugh at seconds later. “You always slept here” he said, astonished at your reluctance and apparent timidness. “Yeah, Max. When we were 11” you protested, tucking some hair behind your ear as you looked for your charger. “Plus, I don’t have a pajama, or spare underwear” your arms now crossed across your chest, mimicking his own, a baffled smile on his lips.

“You can wear one of my sweaters. And like, my boxers, or something” this made your mouth drop in ridiculous surprise, a fear in your eyes which he didn’t understand. “I’m serious! It’s better than you going out with this storm!” his arm pointed towards the window, the view outside a paid actor because a lightning appeared violently before both of you. With a winning grin, he finished his argument with a “C’mon I’ll let you choose the outfit.”

Opening the drawers, you let yourself take a look at the collection of multicolored sweaters organized neatly. Your eyes landed on a grey one, which looked a bit worn out but comfortable at the same time, its marks of usage being a testament to its quality. You grabbed it and noticed that it smelled like Max, like the years of friendship you two shared. “The boxers are in the other drawer” Max interrupted your thoughts, yet his indifferent air made you less awkward about this situation, almost like it was normal that this was happening, like you were both 10 again, popcorn being prepared in the small kitchen next door.

You let yourself randomly choose some of his underwear, trying your best not to look too much at it, knowing little to nothing about how to even begin choosing such a thing for yourself. The strong wind whistled outside, and Max’s fingers hit the keyboard, creating a soothing lullaby.

“I’m- uh-… going then” you said, making your way towards the bathroom as he happily nodded, the familiarity of the house being a known fact for both of you.

The truth was, Max missed you. A lot. He missed hanging out with you all night, watching really bad films and playing silly videogames, drinking some beers and enjoying yourselves. Lately, he hadn’t had the time to do all these things, let alone doing them with you, and even though he did not plan this storm in the slightest, he was glad for it. The rain came as a reminder that you two had a year long friendship you could still enjoy, the sound blending with the one coming from the bathroom as you turned on the shower.

Sleeping over only got weird given the fact that Max was a boy and you were a girl, but it shouldn’t have been like that. In his mind, nothing changed, and nothing should have to change – he still wanted you as close as he did when you two watched scary video compilations on youtube and spent all night hiding under the covers and whispering in an attempt to not ‘awake the big monster’.

He still wanted to spend time with you when you were 16 and started talking about how cute his friends were, asking him if they were single or not as you put a lollipop in your mouth and painted your nails in colorful amusement.

He still wanted you to sleep over even when his girlfriends told him they didn’t quite like the fact that he was so close with you, that he seemed to want to be with you more than with them, that he dropped everything as soon as you texted him a slightly unusual text.

And it was normal, and alright, because you were best friends, because you knew each other better than your own selves, because you’d recognize his laugh in the middle of a crowd even with noise cancelling headphones, and he would recognize the smile you made when you were flustered even if he was blindfolded.

It was also normal for him to smile to himself and feel the happiest he has felt in a while, because he missed you, and you were staying over and nothing would have felt better than knowing he had a night full of your presence.

Meanwhile, you stood in his all-too familiar shower, accepting the fact that he had no conditioner, and a shampoo would have to do for the night. Simultaneously, this made you reflect on the clear fact that he had probably had no stable, consistent, female presence in his life in a while. As the liquid dropped in your hand and you brought your hands to your hair, thoughts about previous relationships of his flooded your mind.

They never ended well, and the guilt you felt because of it was ever present. Max was the best friend you could’ve asked for, because he always picked you, no matter what. In fact, he gave it no thought nor justification, not to you or his previous relationships. He accepted the fact that you were his priority as a given, something so natural as breathing, as blood pumping through his veins. You couldn’t deny you did the same. Previous partners of yours weren’t too fond of his constant need to assess and approve of them, of how he was your emergency contact whenever anything happened, how you made sure you spent time with him at least once a week.

Feeling the foam forming on your scalp, you remembered the times where you two bathed together, the innocence of gone times flying through your head with fondness. Of course, you two grew, and while you never broke the bond that formed between you, it was also harder to continue certain traditions you maintained.

Your teenage years were filled with angst and some bickering over how uncomfortable he made your dates, or how all he did was talk about girls when you two were together. You used each other as diaries and confidantes, keeping secrets in a closed vault made of memories. Nothing really had changed besides your ages, and none of you were dating, or at least it did not seem like it.

As you washed your body with lavender scented soap, you realized this is what you were missing – the comfortability of being the most like yourself you could possibly be, alongside him.

Max stared at the “You Are 14 Years Old!” result on his computer, reading the in depth description on how that one fork gave his age away, when he heard your shout for his name coming from the now foggy bathroom, the place now looking more like Silent Hill or a liminal space. Removing one side of his headphones off, his voice echoed throughout the apartment “Yes?”, filled with softness and worry, a completely unknown care for you which wasn’t displayed by anyone else but him. Smiling to yourself, you replied, “do you seriously only own one bath towel?”

Removing both of his headphones off now, with realization hitting him and he jumped from his seat, he ran towards the drawer that possessed all the other towels he stored in organized fashion. “Shit! No! Sorry! I’m on my way!” he said urgently, grabbing one as he ran towards the bathroom, opening its door and popping only one arm in, his eyes facing the wall but also closed with affirming need to reassure you that he wasn’t looking, refused to look, would never even consider to do such a thing.

You pulled the fabric off his hand as you thanked him with a soft giggle, his previous nonchalant attitude vanishing upon the thought of seeing you naked – which you weren’t, and he would’ve realized this had he considered the fact that the bathroom possessed ONE towel, currently wrapped around your now wet body. Shivering with cold, you got yourself dry as fast as you could, while Max sat back down in his chair, cursing to himself at his clumsiness and lack of thought.

Examining yourself in the mirror as dried your hair off (after several minutes of looking for the hairdryer, not wanting to put Max through the whole ordeal of performing the biggest demonstration of respect towards one’s privacy ever witnessed) you noticed something you hadn’t before. This simple, yet incriminating item put into question your previous thoughts about Max’s lack of companionship in his home, your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth turning downwards at the thought that he was hiding something from you.

On the tiny little cup sitting on the sink, there were two toothbrushes. They were carefully put together in a magical arrangement of colors that indicated that one had to be able to tell them apart, like each had its own owner. Suddenly, the whole idea of sleeping over – hell, of wearing Max’s clothes – seemed ridiculously selfish. You had done it before, but you were adults now, and with adulthood came a sense of responsibility and respect that hit you in the face like a slap, the simple idea of an innocent sleepover with your best friend sounding absolutely childish and ridiculous.

“Max?” you called out again, a deep breath escaping your lungs as you sat down on the toilet seat, hair still slightly damp, towel still wrapped around your body upon your refusal to put his clothes on. “Yes?” he replied once again, a feeling of déjà vu invading your thoughts, a repetition of mere seconds before yet with rose tinted glasses off.

“I think it’s best if I just go home,” you muttered, even though you hadn’t moved. Realistically, the idea of going out there terrified you, but perhaps not as much as staying over, given the current situation. Putting your underwear back on after showering felt dirty, but perhaps wearing his clean one after noticing another one’s presence in his room, his life, his thoughts, made you feel even dirtier.

“Come on, I bet your outfit looks amazing” he said jokingly, assuming you were embarrassed about your current look, trying to lighten up the mood with teasing reassurance. Getting up once again, he stood near the bathroom door, head close to it as if trying to listen to the fabric against your skin, some hint of your own amused presence. All he heard was silence, one so unbelievably loud he felt something off, something wrong. “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice now more careful, more tender, and more concerned.

You only murmured in allowance, and noticed the doorknob turn as he stepped inside. “What’s up?” he asked, his eyes revealing deep concern with slight embarrassment over the painting you two were probably creating. Him, pajama pants and hoodie on, glasses now slightly foggy; you, with droplets falling down your hair as you looked down, hugging the towel tightly against your body. “I don’t want to cause any trouble” you said as you unconsciously looked back at the toothbrushes which now seemed to stare at you both accusingly, judgingly.

“Why would you- Oh,” he interrupted himself, his gaze following yours towards the same spot, his look going from confused to serious to utterly humored. “This?” he asked again, grabbing the small toothbrush from the cup, its cable a pretty yellow shade. “What’s your favorite color again?” he continued, waving the object in front of your face as you stared at it in confusion.

Looking up, you replied simply “yellow- oh,” it was your turn to interrupt yourself, now realizing how you had almost forgotten your childhood promise, yet surprised as well at the fact that he had kept it after all these years, the innocence of the act causing your heart to hurt slightly.

“It’s always been here. I mean, not the same one, obviously, but… a spare toothbrush” he explained, even though he did not have to, his hand playfully messing your hair before he headed bac towards the door. “Get dressed, silly. We have films to watch” his warm voice instructed you with tenderness before he closed the door behind him.

Stepping out of the bathroom, finally dry and dressed, you forced Max to close his eyes before looking at you. “Don’t make fun of me or I’ll leave” you threatened jokingly, as his eyes remained tightly shut with his hands in front of them dramatically. “I won’t I promise!” he claimed, yet he was already laughing, the sound of it reminding you of the years of togetherness you both shared.

“Okay, you can look” you finally gave your permission, as he took his hands off his face and blinked fast, the lights suddenly blinding him. At first, he just stared at you, expression absolutely unreadable. Then, he burst into laughter, apologizing as his giggles filled the bedroom. “I look ridiculous” you complained, the long sleeves covering your hands and flopping lazily as you did so. “No you look adorable!” he tried to protest, laughter insistent on making its way through his lips, his eyes shining with happy tears. “Adorably ridiculous” you continued, rolling your eyes and throwing yourself on the bed defeatedly, your head buried in his pillow, filled with the scent of him.

Knowing your mood would change soon, Max merely smiled to himself as he started putting a film on, the choice being the Twilight saga – easy to watch, entertaining, fun, and he could tease you about it constantly, pretending he didn’t enjoy it himself. Bags of jellybeans hit your head as he threw them towards you, in an attempt to wake you from your moody attitude. “C’mon grumpy I have beer” he poked you as he sat on the bed as well, pressing play and opening a bag which he waved in front of your face as you got up lazily.

“’I know what you are’ ‘Say it. Out loud. Say it!’ ‘Vampire’” you said the lines along with the film, echoing each and every intonation and expression. Popping a bear shaped jellybean in his mouth as he took another sip of his beer, Max interrupted your acting session by saying “can you imagine how awkward it would be if it was something else entirely and he would just be like… ‘uh no’” and laughing to himself. Your arm flew to his as you punched it angrily, despite the fact that you were giggling to yourself.

Something about getting you slightly on your nerves while also making you smile made Max feel almost at home, in a safe space without comparison, only available to him when you were around. He felt himself in a constant state of meditation whenever he was around you, his breathing naturally adjusting itself to match yours.

Instinctively, and not out of the ordinary for any of you, he grabbed your hand and played with it softly, his fingers feeling the soft texture of your skin and pinching it with playful tenderness. You never questioned it, and neither did he, this need you two had to display affection more than most friends did, the need to always be in some sort of contact with each other, to feel each other’s warmth and presence closely. Without taking his eyes off of the film, seemingly very intensely focused on Edward’s skin of a killer, he spoke up. “You don’t look ridiculous,” he said, as you held your gaze on the film, yet laughing at his comment, expecting a joke to be made about how what’s on the screen is way more embarrassing than you in his underwear. Yet he said something completely different. “You always look pretty. Very pretty” his voice was soft as he now looked at you, and you felt his gaze on your skin, your cheeks, your eyelashes, yet refused to look at him and face whatever was happening in that night.

The windows rattled once again, breaking the momentary spell that hovered in the room, hypnotizing both of you with the haze of uncertain feelings. You heard his breathing as well, heavy and nervous now, his heart racing and yours matching his, maybe because you were so deeply connected or maybe because your feelings and his were now the same shade of complexity.

You wondered if this is why you had stopped sleep overs together. Perhaps it was the fear of facing the fact that things were not as simple and easy to brush off when the clock hit 3am and his hand was on his and your head on his shoulder and you had no intention of moving. And he shared these same thoughts, realizing how that letting go of you right now would probably be the worst thing that could happen, the scariest thought that could possibly cross his mind.

All this happened in fractions of second, too short for any of you to truly acknowledge what was happening, his voice interrupting both of your thoughts as he spoke once again, “obviously not as pretty as Edward Cullen but-“ to which you rolled your eyes and laughed. “I bet he’d look better in your sweatshirt” you said, another sip of beer falling on your lips.

“Impossible” he replied, a smile on his lips, his eyes finally meeting yours and then taking your whole appearance in, your cheeks blushing shyly at how attentively he looked at you, at how his gaze seemed so tender and soft. A sudden urgency to feel his lips on yours filled your thoughts with sheer intensity that terrified you. You hadn’t seen Max that way, hadn’t considered it nor question it before, not even when your dates and boyfriends accused you of things, not when your friends commented on how you looked at him. Yet in that exact moment, something shifted completely, perhaps stirred by the storm outside, perhaps because it simply felt right in that moment to feel wrong.

“Can I kiss you?” he suddenly asked. The innocence of the question made you giggle, the contrast between his soft and careful voice and his adult look with a week old stubble making you giddy and timid as you nodded.

His lips touched yours with caution, yet with undeniable fondness that made you question why this hadn’t happened before. You felt his smile in between the kiss, the satisfaction of finally breaking this unknown wall that had existed between you for so long, and which you remained so unaware about.

Pulling away, Max’s eyes stared into yours before moving to the screen, a satisfied smile on his now slightly redder than usual lips, your own face mimicking his. “Edward Cullen could never kiss as well as you” he whispered, earning himself another soft punch, followed by 3 more films worth of kissing.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 #formula one #f1blr

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semina-art · 5 months

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My Tomarry | Harrymort recs: Updated

⭐ My Preciousss

A Dangerous Game by @cybrid

A Future Without a Face by @dividawrites

And the living will envy the dead by @k-s-morgan

Consuming Shadows by @childotkw

Death of Today by @epic-solemnity

Diagnosis by MaidenMotherCrone

Either must die at the hand of the other by @metalomagnetic

In Willing Sacrifice by @hikarimeroperiddle

Let’s Cross Over by @whisprchrysalis

love is touching souls (surely you touched mine) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

Mi Aedijekit by @kitastrophea

No Glory by @obsidianpen

The two hundred and twelfth loop by Bakuko

Vicious Circle by Bakuko

What He Grows to Be by @k-s-morgan

⚡ Extremely good

(never) let me go by @perhaps-sunlight

dawn of a death of a dream by @cindle-writes

draw me after you (let us run) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

equals in life (partners in death) by @reggieblk

Exquisitely by @obsidianpen

Full Circle by tetsurashian

Growing pains by @whisprchrysalis

Haunted and Hunted series by @obsidianpen

Heir Apparent by @monsieurclavier

In this Last of Meeting Places by redbadger

Inevitabilities by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

One year in every ten by @saintsenara

Past’s Player by The Fictionist

Revolution of Configured Stars by @tollingreminiscentbells

Seeing Sand by @valkyrie-chemist

Surface Pressure by handsonmyheart

Terrible, But Great by @isalisewrites

The Sense of Self by SpitFire97

The Train to Nowhere by MayMarlow

The Weight of Gravity by Skylanian_Writer

Too old to be this young by Nadia_Castillo

We still have time by @duplicitywrites

Many thanks to these talented authors for their works. You inspire me so much! ❤️ I love every fic from this list! UPDATED: 30.03.2024

#hp #harry potter #fanfic #fanfic rec #tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #fan fiction

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covetyou · 12 days

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ghosted

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (satisfyer "glowing ghost"), unprotected P in V, creampie, oral (f receiving), reader loves floor time (so does Joel), angst (but we fix it), some anxiety/depression adjacent things. word count: 5751 summary: As spring moves into summer, the only thing you're wishing for is to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on. But, by the time the end of May is on the horizon, the time between still isn't enough - You haven't forgotten, and you haven't moved on.

A/N: thank you to everyone still sticking with this sporadic-installment-series-that-was-never-meant-to-be-a-series. our next visit to these two will be 4th July in stars and stripes, but until then, enjoy 💛

(and yes I know I am technically later than planned with this for non Americas folk - I couldn't get the ending to my liking until suddenly I could, and now its gone midnight. whoops!)

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

If it was true that time flies when you're having fun, it was safe to say the opposite was true too.

You weren't having fun, and time was well and truly crawling by at a snails pace.

That wasn't for lack of trying. In recent weeks you'd spent more time out of the house than you ever had - lunch with friends, drinks with colleagues, solo trips to bookstores and farmers markets. There was barely a moment of time you hadn't filled with something.

It was probably a shitty coping mechanism, all things considered, but it was the best you had. You couldn't quite bring yourself to confide in anyone your secret shame of letting a stranger into your house and touch you like he belonged there. The even bigger shame of living in a place for so very long and not knowing how the door worked, not knowing the stranger was your neighbor, being so very consumed in your own life - woe is you - that you didn't bother paying attention to the lives of the people around you. So, you kept on willing the passage of time, and filling every moment you could with distractions.

It wasn't that you were usually one for wishing time away. A slow, warm spring before the blazing heat of summer consumed everything would usually be a good thing - even better now that you'd lived and experienced your first Texas summer and were soon to have your second.

What you were really wishing for was to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on.

As it was, by the time the end of May was on the horizon, the time between still wasn't enough. Almost two months to the day, and it still ached and burned in you just as much as it always had, if not more. The embarrassment and shame of not knowing how to work a fucking lock was one thing, the fear of the danger you'd put yourself in was another. Then there was the sadness, the loss, the unexpected emptiness at losing something you weren't even sure you had to begin with. And then, in more recent weeks, was the longing.

And you didn't want to feel any of it.

When Memorial Day Weekend eventually rolls around, the blossoming heat of summer keeping you indoors, you lie there on your living room floor, a fan blowing not quite cool enough air across your sweaty body until a knock at the door disturbs the patterns your eyes were tracing on the ceiling.

The dimness in your vision doesn't go away, even as you blink away the dust and try to get your eyes to adjust. The sun had set, apparently. It wasn't completely dark just yet, but dark enough to cast the lower level of your home in shadow, and you hadn't even noticed. You technically had plans today - plans that had now gone to shit, much like everything else.

Hauling yourself from the ground, you unlock your door, no thought or care of who could be on the other side of it, because one thing was certain - it wouldn't be Joel. You'd lost hope of that weeks ago. Each time you opened it with a fools hope in your mind, you were instead handed a delivery and told to have a good day as you stared out into the street, disappointed that it was only a clitty-blaster-3000, or a new blender, and not Joel.

You mindlessly pull open the door, expecting to be handed a package you hadn't ordered, or to even see a friendly face coming to pull you out for plans you agreed to but didn't really want to do.

But there he is. Two months later - but not too late, you don't think - and entirely out of the blue. Nervous hands are thrust into his pockets with his thumbs twitching on the outside of his jeans, standing there like he didn't belong here at all, when everything in your body was screaming he's home.

This was far from the first time you'd seen him since March. The first time was barely three days after you pushed him away. April Fools' Day, of all days. Fitting, you thought, given how much of a fucking fool you felt whenever you remembered everything you'd done, and said, and felt. It turns out he was the owner of the truck you'd seen parked in a drive a little way down the street, father to the little girl you'd seen bounding out of that house so many times before. Neither thing made the hurt in your chest any less, and you'd driven past with a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes.

The same happens now, but you fight them back so you can see more clearly as his mouth twitches into a small smile, making you freeze on the spot. Your mind was already blank, but that freezes too, and you stare at him dumbstruck for a moment so long you're certain a flicker of concern dances across his eyes.

And you could close the door in his face, push him out and away just like you did on that day over two months ago, but you don't. As you come back around, finally letting your brain reconnect with the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is relief and total utter joy at getting to see him up close again.

There's still shame too. That's been simmering low and mellow in you for so long now that it's fused with your bones - you're not sure you'll ever shake it - but it's the least important thing right now as you stand and look at him, more awkward and uncertain than you've ever seen him.

"Hi."

You're surprised it's you who speaks first, given how dry your mouth is all of a sudden, seeing him up close again and looking as good as, if not better, than he ever has.

"Hey," he says, before clearing his throat. "S'good to see you."

It's a voice you didn't want to forget, but apparently damn near almost had, given the way your body reacts to it. Deep and rumbling, with the slow southern drawl trickling down your spine like honey and settling between your thighs - though in all honesty that might just be sweat. It really is hot in here, worse now that you're standing, and the fan is doing absolutely nothing to help. You look a mess too - your hair, your clothes, your life - but he doesn't seem to mind, and you're grateful, because right now this is as good as you've got.

"Wanted to see how you were doin'. Figured we should talk," he says with another soft smile.

Stepping aside, you give him a small nod as you silently invite him into your home for the first time. Which should be funny, given the unknown number of times he's been through this door, but you're not ready to laugh about any of it just yet.

When the door closes behind him, it's soft and gentle, barely audible over the fan blasting warm air at you, and you wonder if it's always like that. If he's always quiet as a mouse, and you always too oblivious to notice - between the two of you, you didn't stand a hope in hell in figuring it all out until it was too late and blew up in your face. Now, here you are, egg on your face, the heat in the room not helping the heat in your cheeks, trying desperately not to send him away when you've just invited him in.

It would be easier if it all still felt like a dream, but it didn't. That had changed.

Joel had never been much of a normal man in your mind. He was more of a fantasy come to life. A fantasy that was slowly building into something more and more real with each encounter. Even now, stood in normal shoes, wearing a normal t-shirt, and even more normal jeans - just Some Guy by anybodies standard - he looks as beautiful and fantastic as ever.

"Wanted to talk to you sooner. Wanted to leave it up to you given - y'know. Everythin'. Didn't want you to think I was just bargin' in all the time when it was convenient for me," he says, this very normal man already making you feel both silly and elated that he was waiting for you as much as you were waiting for him. Obviously you could have gone to him first. You just couldn't do it. You almost had so many times, but the twist of your key in the door would twist something in the pit of your stomach too, and you'd stop before you even made it out the house.

You knew why. It was always the same thing. You didn't want to talk - not ever. You just wanted things to be okay, or not, and go on with your life. It was one of those childish things you had your mom to thank for - she wasn't great at talking about the important thing either.

The difference now was Joel. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to work out everything with him rather than alone in your head. But prior to the door incident, that wasn't what this was and after - well, fuck - after, it seemed that it could have been like that all along but you were too damn late to do anything about it.

"Know you were angry with me - maybe still are - and I -"

"I wasn't angry with you," you blurt out, already aware of the lie the moment it leaves your lips. Joel is too, and he raises an eyebrow at you. "Okay. Yes. It pissed me off - you pissed me off. Happy?"

"No. Never wanted to piss you off, darlin'," he murmurs in return, and you can see that he means it by the way all of him softens, drooping in defeat at your admission.

"I... You embarrassed me, Joel. I feel embarrassed, okay? I feel like a stupid idiot, and I -"

You can already feel it all coming back. The swirling in your head, and the heat creeping up your chest and down your arms, not helped by this sweltering fucking house. It's like fainting, but instead of blacking out, a white hot rage is ready to ignite in you. And of everything, it's the thing you most never want to feel again. You'd take all the sadness, loss, emptiness, and longing of the last two months a million times over if it means you never have to feel this again.

" - and it makes me angry. And I hate feeling like that, like this, and I just couldn't come talk to you because I feel so stupid."

"Woah, darlin', c'mon now, we both know you ain't stupid."

"I don't know how to work a fucking door, Joel. Do you know how long people have had doors?"

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes before starting up again, hoping Joel will take the lead and talk for you first, but he doesn't.

"And I thought we were on the same page. That we were both doing the same silly thing, and it was okay that it was silly and fun, because we were both in on the joke. And... I liked seeing you. I liked it when you were here and it just - it just feels like it was a lie, and what I got out of it isn't what you got out of it. And that's okay, but it still feels stupid. I feel like an idiot, and an asshole, and knowing that you knew so much more about me than I knew about you, I just-"

"Do you want to?" he asks. "Do you wanna get to know me? Just gotta say, and it's done. I want you to know about me - I never meant to hide anythin' from you like that. And I don't want you to be mad, and I don't want you to feel embarrassed, cause the way I see it, we both got shit to be embarrassed about. I was breakin' into your house for months, thinkin' I was invited."

You wince a little, and he just smiles, shrugging his broad shoulders that what's done is done, nonchalance easing your anxiety for the first time ever rather than making it worse.

"I used to stand out there in front of your door and talk to your doorbell like you'd talk back to me any minute," Joel says with a laugh. "Course, now I get that you probably ain't got it hooked up. Never did hear the fuckin' thing ring."

Fuck. Right. Yeah, he's got you there. You'd bought it when you moved in, at your mom's insistence, and never got around to connecting it to anything. You figured it just being there would be deterrent enough and, other than visits from Joel, it had been.

He laughs again at your poorly masked grimace, and any other time you'd maybe be infuriated by him finding humor in something you'd been hurting over for weeks. It's not until you meet his eye and see the silliness in it all too - neither of you really did have any hope.

"Right? It's dumb. Not you, not me, it's just dumb. I even used to tell you when I'd be over next, let you know when to expect me. Leave out a key or put the door on the latch if it's okay for me to come by. I thought I was bein' invited in, but I was breakin' in. Shit. You're embarrassed, and I'm a criminal, I guess we're both losers."

Any anger you had is gone in a flash as laughter ripples through your belly and out your throat. In a way, it's all true. Joel was just as fucked as you, had just as much to be embarrassed and fearful about as you. Unknowingly leaving your home vulnerable to intruders is one thing, but being an accidental criminal for months is another.

"I liked it. I... I never knew when you were coming."

"Hey, if that's what gets your rocks off," he says with a wink, and you laugh again. "I ain't one to judge, but we can explore that in safer ways than keepin' a door unlocked day and night."

You both realize what he said the second the word left his lips.

We.

As in us.

As in together.

And you think he might take it back as quick as he said it, but he doesn't. He just looks at you, half fearful that he said the wrong thing, half hopeful that he said the right thing.

"Okay."

With one word he brightens, and you can feel it in you too. Whatever it is is mutual. Has been since the red velvet coat, since the wings, since the bunny ears, and all the spaces in between.

"Yeah? Cause I'd like to start over, if that's okay with you."

"Well, that sounds like a terrible idea," you say bluntly, because honestly you cannot think of anything worse. Joel's slow steps towards you falter for a second as he tries not to let the disappointment in his face show, but you're already smiling. "You can pry Santa, Cupid, and Flopsy from my cold, dead hands."

And his laugh is glorious, cracking open the remnants of the walls you'd put around yourself and letting your bones soak in the warmth of him, just as his arms come to wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. He smells so familiar - that's one thing you know about him. You might not know about his favorite color, or what he likes to eat, or even his daughters name just yet. But you know what he smells like, how his smile lights up his eyes, and how his hands feel on you, anchoring you in place even as you send yourself dizzy breathing him in.

He's going to kiss you too. You know that, and you welcome it, but before he can, you pull back.

"There's so much I want to know, I don't know how I missed so much."

"You get one question before I'm kissin' you."

You think for just a second before looking down to where your fingers curl into his shirt - an old Fleetwood Mac tee, so washed and worn it's like butter beneath your fingers.

With a wry smile, you look up at him from beneath your lashes, unable to hold back the laughter in your voice. "What are you dressed as today? Don't think I know this one, you're usually on theme."

"This? I'm just your plain ol' friendly neighborhood Joel Miller."

His lips are on yours then, pressing a soft kiss into the curve of your mouth, eyes searching yours for one, two, three seconds, before he dives back in, kissing you in earnest, making up for all the in betweens you'd been wishing away.

You wrap yourself around him, clinging to him, damn near wanting to climb up him, as you make out like teenagers in the middle of your living room. His hands wander across your shoulders, down your spine, grasping at any softness he can find along the way until his hands settle - one on your ass, and one gently cupping the back of your neck.

And as you kiss, holding each other close like you were long lost lovers and not whatever this thing between you was, you can't help but think that Joel Miller may just be your favorite Joel yet.

"Now, I got a question for you," he mumbles into your mouth, each word chased by your kisses. You've never wanted to seem desperate before, but right now you don't care, and by the way he's holding you, Joel doesn't mind either.

"Why the fuck do you have a nightlight?"

Shooting him an inquisitive look, you follow his gaze over your shoulder.

There on your counter, little light blinking away, is your very own clitty-blaster-3000, a luminous ghost with its mouth set in a permanent O, glowing brightly in the darkness. Shit. You'd brought it down this morning to charge, needing to keep a watchful eye on it and its janky magnetic charger to make sure it charged fully. You'd totally forgotten about it, and now here it was, glowing like a beacon after being out in the sun all day.

You try to pull away from Joel, but with his arms locked around your body, and his mouth pressing soft whiskered kisses to your neck, you don't have the strength, or the inclination, to move.

"It's not a nightlight, I can go put it away, if you just gimme-"

He tucks you behind him, swatting away your arms as you feebly try to reach around and grab it from him. Truthfully, you quite like the idea of him holding it, using it, but you feel bad that he might not know what it is.

"Not a nightlight, huh?" He says, grabbing the toy from the counter, said charger immediately popping off and clattering to the ground. He inspects it, turning it over in his hands, bringing it so close to his face it casts shadows across his features with its glow. "Oh, I know what this is."

"What is it then, smartass."

"Other than Pac-Man's worst nightmare? It's one of them clitty-blaster-3000 things."

Eyes wide, you double over, cackling and holding desperately onto yourself so you don't totally fall apart in front of him. He laughs with you, though maybe it's a little bit at you too, but you don't mind.

"What?!" he says smiling as he watches you fight to right yourself, gripping his forearm with laugh weakened fingers.

"That's what I call it!"

"Yeah? It good?"

His eyes are burning into yours. You know where this is going, and there's a brief thought that maybe you should stop it, slow things down. But you don't. Instead, you bite your lip and nod, making a noise of confirmation as Joel fiddles with the buttons on the toy.

A second later, it whirrs to life, a gentle throbbing buzz meeting your ears.

Joel puts his thumb over the hole, the suction gently hammering away at his finger tip as he clicks up and up through the intensity until he's well past a level you can use it at.

"Shit, yeah. Can see how that'd feel good."

"I, uhm, like to tease myself with it."

"Yeah?" he says as it clicks back down through the settings and rests on the softest one again. "Is that how you use it? Just to tease yourself?"

"No," you say, gasping a little when he raises the toy to your neck, pressing the mouth of the ghost to you as if pressing a kiss to your skin. "I - I just kinda stick it on there, to be honest. But I go slow with the - with the settings."

Joel clicks up one setting, the gentle thrumming at your neck intensifying a little.

"Yeah? You take your time? Give her what she deserves?"

You forgot what this was like - how easy and good it was to give in to wanting him, and how easy it was to let yourself have him too.

"Mhm."

"Good. Can't say I ain't jealous though. Missed comin' here. Seein' you. Thought about you, thought about comin' to see you but -"

"Thought about you too."

"When you were usin' this?"

You nod, tilting your head to the side and sighing as he glides the tip of the toy across your pulse point, behind your ear, down the column of your throat.

"Can I use it on you?"

You damn near want to tell him he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but the words are lost when you nod again and he captures your mouth in another kiss, brutal in its softness as he guides you back to your couch and all the plush cushions you have stacked there. Since Christmas, your home décor skills have definitely improved. Things look a little less bare, the place looks a little more lived in. There's still pictures to hang and empty spaces on shelves to fill, but you know those things will come in time. For now, you're grateful for the comfy place you've made on your sofa as Joel sits you down, guiding you down with strong hands.

Your shorts are quickly pulled off, the toy pulled from your neck so Joel can kiss his own better trail across your flesh. You hold him to you, anchor him into your bosom like he might drift off like a spectre in the night if you don't, but he's as latched to you as you are to him.

And then he's on his knees for you, jeans straining as his cock swells, hands gripping your thighs then pushing your shirt up, exposing you for him. Panties soon follow your shorts, yanked down your legs in a joint effort by your left hand and his right as he can't resist lapping at your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.

He's everything you tried to forget, and some of the things you did. He's strong, and broad. He's gentle too, and soft - his eyes, mostly, but some other parts of him too. He's silly, and playful, smiling into your mouth and nipping at you, the hand by your thigh teasing the buzzing toy over the delicate skin there and delighting in your shudder.

As he moves it closer, the sounds of the suction against your skin making you both giggle, he moves down, burying his face into your neck and breathing in. You already know that it's never been like this before - that this is something new, just like every other time before had been something new.

"So you just stick it on, huh?"

"Lube. With lube."

His face is between your legs in an instant, licking messily around your clit, not really trying to get you off, just aiming to get you wet. When he pulls back, toy in hand, he raises the glowing toy mouth to his own and licks, smiling at the sound of it suctioning to his tongue.

"That good enough?"

And you nod, giving in to his kisses again before he breathlessly spreads you apart with both hands, looking at your cunt like if he blinks it'll all fade away.

"You know I ain't seen this for three months?"

"You been counting?"

"I missed you," he repeats with a breathless kiss to your thigh. "Missed this."

He lights his way with the glow of the toy rumbling in his hand, pulling back your clit for just one second, barely holding in a groan, before he gently holds the mouth of the ghost to you, pressing until the obscene slurp is muffled by full suction on your clit.

And it's divine, just like it always is, but somehow made even better by the man doing it to you. Fascinated eyes don't stop watching as it hammers air lightly at your clit in a constant rhythm, and the sight alone makes you drip. You're grateful for the heat now, and the sheet you'd covered your velvet sofa with, saving you an undoubtedly messy clean up later.

The toy slips when Joel climbs back off his knees to press his mouth to yours, and the air splutters and ripples past your skin again, as Joel laughs into your mouth.

"The sound of this thing, jesus fuckin' christ. Sounds like you're -"

"Don't. Don't make me laugh, you'll distract me."

"I like it when you laugh," but he's already pressing it flush to your skin again, stopping the sound and sending the ripples directly back to your clit.

"Ohh, f- "

"That's it," he says, watching as your hips rock ever so slightly into the throbbing toy sucking away on your clit. "Fuck, that's it. Lettin' me get you off with this thing."

"Think I can get some fingers in and keep this right where you need it?"

"Mm."

"Yeah?" he says, swiping at your entrance with his middle fingers, carefully holding the toy in place with his palm. "Just like that. There we go. Right in there. Fuck, I missed this. Missed bein' in here."

"Fuck."

"That's it. You come on 'em. Wanna feel it."

"Joel, down. Move it down. Ple- ah."

"There?"

"Right there," you sigh, panting and barely making it through the words before your eyes snap shut.

And then Joel is in your ear, his breath fanning against you, cooling you for a second even as his fingers stoke the fire raging in your core.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he murmurs, and you just know he's looking down at you, the picture of a perfect mess. A sheen of sweat on your skin, lips swollen and parted as you gasp, thighs spread wide, hips rocking into Joel's illuminated palm, t-shirt rucked high over your hips, hands on your tits, nipples pinched between your own fingers, moaning, panting, coming.

You twitch in his arms, burying your head in his neck and breathing deep. Something about the position you're in can keep it going longer, can keep that thrumming pressure on your clit right where it is, past your usual limit, dragging your orgasm on and on until you're gasping Joel's name.

He gingerly pulls the glowing toy off of you - its brightness dimmed only slightly since you lost sight of it between your legs - fiddling with buttons until he gives in and throws it to the side to run his hands over you.

With a light kisses to your parted lips, he apologizes, giving you softly muttered sorrys for ever upsetting you, for taking so long to come talk to you, and before you can return the sentiment, he sends you laughing again.

"And I'm sorry for breakin' into your house. Accidentally."

Your laughter makes him shift, and his face contorts as he gasps in discomfort.

"Fuckin' jeans. Pinchin'," is all he says, as he tries to adjust himself. You can see his zipper strain with the weight of his cock, stiff and unattended, behind the thick fabric.

"Take 'em off."

"Came here for you, not me."

"And if I want you to come for me?"

Joel blinks.

"Then I'm takin' my damn pants off," he says, taking his pants off. He sighs in relief when the pressure on his cock is released, groans when your hand palms him over the damp fabric, gasps into your mouth when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband, finding his cock slick and wet with precum, curses into your hair when you lick the salty taste of him from your fingers.

Tugging his boxers down a little more, his cock springs free, slapping his wet tip against his belly. In a blink you're on him, pulling off his shirt as you go to suck wet kisses into his neck, his chest, and letting your fingers toy with his nipples and the other feel down past his boxers, cupping his balls and rolling your thumb across the sensitive flesh before he pushes up into you.

He's solid. You're surprised he didn't come in his pants with how firm he feels slipping against your cunt. You meet his thrust, grinding down into his solid length, trying to hold your own shirt up so you can see the tip of his cock as he ruts against you.

"Does that feel good?"

"Fu - yeah. Y'always feel good."

"Y'know what would feel better," you whisper, scratching gently down his chest and watching goosebumps prickle his skin. With a shift of your hips, his next thrust pushes in, just slightly, before popping out and grinding into your clit again. His next thrust - slower, firmer - notches against your entrance and pushes in, Joel's hands on your ass dragging you down, until you're seated to the root of him.

It's a stretch. It always was. But over three months, and a decline in solo sessions, made it even more so.

Still, even through the stretch, you rock against him, looking into the eyes of Joel Miller, the normal, every day guy who lives down your street, and smile at it all, and the look on his face that says he couldn't be luckier.

"Said I wanted you to come, didn't I?"

And you meant it. You show him how much you mean it as you start to ride him, lifting higher and higher off of him before pushing back down. Your thighs clap against his, wet with sweat and slipping together with each movement, echoing around your living room.

It doesn't last long. It can't. It's too fucking hot, and you're woefully out of practice as the stretch in your pussy turns into a burn in your legs. You can see Joel's face start to pinch and contort, looking between your face, your bouncing tits, and the slip of his cock in and out of you, barely visible in the shadows.

But you can't keep going. You'll pass out if you do. Joel's hands register what you're doing before his face does, gripping tighter and holding you down on him, before his mouth opens in a gasp, his head falling back after losing something he was so close to getting.

You barely pull in a breath of warm air before Joel is dragging you down, flipping you unceremoniously onto your back on the floor.

It's cooler down here, even with Joel's body over yours. It's why you were on the floor to begin with, before he came back, before you let him back in. Joel fumbles against you, the sweat on your body acting more like a full body lube at this point, before he slides back in, knocking the air out of you as he fills you all over again.

Even though his knees will be bruised in the morning and your back will ache, he pounds into you, gripping your shirt and pulling you down with each thrust.

And it's just so fucking good you can't help but practically scream as he fucks you, moaning loudly into his ear as he groans and pants and swears into yours. Your fingers can't find purchase against his back, even as you desperately claw at him. There's too much sweat - it's too fucking hot in here - but you wouldn't change any of the desperate mess that you find yourselves in here on the floor.

He's growling, balls slapping against you, fucking you so hard you have to throw a hand out to hold onto the couch.

"I'm gonna - fuck - look at me. Look. Fuck. Fuck."

He presses in then, spurting deep in you, stealing the air from your mouth, and you from his, as you gasp and groan with each shallow thrust of his hips.

When he pulls out, hands going from bruising grip to gentle strokes, he rolls off of you, his back slapping wetly against the ground just as your pussy makes its own equally wet sound. And you laugh, because it's silly, just like it always has been, with or without a costume or a name that's not quite his own to go with it. Joel chuckles along with you, content and dozy from his orgasm, the evidence of it trickling out of you and making a mess of your floor as your stomach contracts with laughter.

The house cools down in the darkness - not much, but enough. Your hands find each other again too, and you each dance small patterns across each others skin until words come back to you.

You talk there on the floor, sweat drying on your skin, until the rumble of your stomach becomes too distracting to continue. You learn his favorite color, what he does for a living, his daughters name. You even learn the exact make and model of his truck, something you immediately forget.

And when he tries to excuse himself, too frightened of overstaying his welcome, you invite him to stay, and Joel Miller, the best Joel you've ever met, says yes.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups@wannab-urs@bean-is-reading@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@youandmeand5bucks-blog@bbyanarchist@vickywallace@kamcrazy123@valkyreally@ashhlsstuff@a-literal-goblin@ariundercovers@iluvurfather@stevie75@toxicanonymity@thesevi0lentdelights@sp00kymulderr

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #coveted fics #big bawl jawl #never forget the balls #fic: dress up joel

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justepilepsy · 1 year

Text

The reason I am harping in on spiderverse so much is because it is otherwise a really good film and story and premise.

People are not wrong for enjoying it. I don't want people to stop enjoying it. But I want them to acknowledge that it's not normal for many even non neurodiverse people to leave the cinema with a headache. You don't need epilepsy to have a photosensitive seizure.

There is a lot of great art and great ideas in this movie beyond the rapid Glitch effects, highly contrasting bright colors on large screen areas, pulsing lights and patterns etc

The film goes on to inspire other main stream and indie animation projects to take after its visuals

But if a large part of those inspiring visuals is inaccessible then I am just worried this inaccessibility will invade media that has otherwise been safe for me or others to consume.

Spiderverse is a trend setting piece of art but the execution and apparently exploitative work environment has lead to the film being a real safety hazard.

Looking at the discourse and responses I keep seeing to the photosensitivity posts surrounding it, I worry that more than just the viewers , but also many great artists may think the bright flashing dangerous lights and colors are the reason the art is good, rather than creative scene transitions or fantastic character design and the excellent blending of various frame rates.

And if strobe lights and all these effects are realy what gets you hyped and pumped for any type of art. Then that is okay too. I suppose there is an audience for everything.

But it would still be nice if there was a safe viewing option for people to whom these things are genuinely dangerous.

I want to be wrong about strobes and the dangerous art direction decisions of spiderverse spreading. But I have not yet reason to think otherwise.

#actually epileptic #epilepsy #photosensitivity #seizureverse #itsv #atsv #spiderverse #i can like the heavy metal movie and still think that some tropes and themes are rather yikes #i can enjoy media and still adress the issues with it

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heeseung-min · 2 months

Text

[19:35]

You woke up from your sleep and stretched your body until you finally can get up and went out of the room. You walked to the kitchen and found your boyfriend, Sunoo was cooking fried rice for the breakfast.

"How was your sleep, baby?"

Sunoo asked as he felt you hugged him from behind and snuggled on his body feeling his scent. You nodded lightly and continue hugging him. Both of you stayed like this for couple minutes until Sunoo hold your wrist to let yourself go and asked you to sit on the table.

"Don't forget to eat your medicine, okay?"

Sunoo said as he handled you a pill and a glass of water. It's your daily routine to take consume the pill before you eat. Apparently, it was because an accident you had two years ago and the pill is to reduce your symptoms like nausea, fever and headache. Sunoo always monitor your condition and make sure that you will not skip it.

Sunoo watched you swallowed the pill and pat your head gently. He then brought the fried rice that he cooked to the table so both of you can eat together.

"I need to go out today. Need to buy some groceries. Make sure to not open the door to anyone, okay?"

"Okay!"

____________________

_____________________

You started to felt bored after an hour Sunoo went out. None of the channels at the TV caught your attention. Usually you will spend your time building blocks but you were too lazy today. You wanted to sleep but suddenly gasped loudly when you heard a loud knock from the front door.

You wanted to open but stopped when you remember Sunoo never knocks since he just need to enter the password to come in. You also don't have neighbour nearby. You flinched again when the second knock came. It was louder this time and the person outside even called your name.

"Y/N! Are you there?! Y/N, open the door. I'm coming to save you!!!"

Save? You were not in danger. What was this person talking about? However, despite feeling confused and curious you started to walk closer towards the door and started to unlock the door. Your curiosity towards the person made you really opened the door despite those warning that your boyfriend gave.

When you opened the door, you were met by unfamiliar man. He was panting like he just ran miles even there is nothing to run from. But before you wanted to ask something to him you were shocked by a sudden gun shot from behind him. You gasped feeling the blood splattered to your face and watched the man in front of you fell down to the floor and you were met by his shooter which was your own boyfriend, Sunoo.

"Fuck man. Why would you come here and disturb us?"

Your boyfriend said as he let down his gun and slowly walked to you. Your nervous started to kick in and made you stepped back when Sunoo became closer to the point you fell down on your butt while your body shaking.

"You okay, baby?"

"I'm....I'm sorry..I- I don't want to open it but I-"

You flinched so hard when your boyfriend make a contact with you. You thought he will hit you when his hand reached your head but instead he pat it.

"I know it's not your fault. If that man didn't knock, you will not open it."

He wiped the blood on your face with a cloth. You were still trembling after what Sunoo done just now. The way he didn't feel bothered is scaring you.

"Please don't kill me."

"Kill? Baby, I love you too much to do that. Let's get you fix, yeah?"

He said before you passed out on his arms.

____________________

________________________

You woke up while panting and immediately looked at your surrounding. You were still in yesterday's clothes that you wore when you woke up from bed. You stared to the digital clock and today is Monday. What? Monday? Shouldn't it be Tuesday? Yesterday was Monday but what is this.

What was happening?

Were those are just your dreams?

Fuck, it's just a dream?

"You okay, baby?"

You quickly turned to your boyfriend who just went out from shower. He was drying his hair with a small towel and stared worriedly at you.

"What day is today?"

"It's Monday, silly."

He smiled and started to walk closer. Sunoo fixed the mess on your hair and caressed your cheeks gently.

"Did you have bad dream? You are sweating."

"I- I did."

"Really? What happened in your dream?", Sunoo said as he laying down beside you and hold you closer. His gentle pat on your back really helped you to calm down from the nightmare you had just now.

You became silent at his question. You don't know whether you should tell him the truth or not.

"It was traumatize. I just don't want to talk about it."

Sunoo didn't say anything and pushed your body up so both of you are staring to each other.

"I'm so sorry for you but now I'm here beside you. There's nothing gonna happen as long as I'm with you."

And you finally felt relieved knowing that all of that were just a dream. Of course your sweet lovely boyfriend aren't psycho. He's not like that.

Or was it really just a dream?

Sunoo smirked when he felt you sleep again. Ah, thank god he was quick to call Heeseung and do some hypnosis on you yesterday. He can't believe some people really brave to come here and cause ruckus. You were literally fine living with him.

"Nothing's gonna come between us, baby. I promise you that."

ahahaha how is that? Sunoo on yandere mode is a 🤌🤌🤌🤌

Taglist : @stacey-stonem @duolingofanaccount @obsessed1with1straykids @huggyuvita @rowretro @eeunoia @soireegurl

#yandere kpop #yandere enhypen #kpop yandere #enha x reader #lee heeseung #kim sunoo #park jongseong #park sunghoon #jake sim #enhypen sunoo #yandere sunoo #sunoo x reader #yang jungwon #nishimura riki #sunoo enhypen #yandere enha #enhypen scenarios #yandere drabble #yandere male

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wutheringcaterpillar · 2 months

Note

I love love love your work so much!!! How about a soft!dark!Tommy fic where the reader cheats (she doesn’t love him) and he still wants her back

Warnings: Infidelity, p in v, smut, altered timeline/storyline, cheating, dark!tommy, a singular face slap, relationship problems, mental diagnosis

thank you for the request hope you enjoy!

In the beginning, there was admiration and love, in the end destruction and deceit claimed your lives.

When Oswald Mosley walked into your life, he was a married man as you were an engaged woman.

His wife was quite beautiful but the attitude and extravagant confidence was all too apparent and took over the room for you to want any friendship with her, to which Tommy respected.

His delicate facial structure swooned many women, similar to Tommy’s yet though he had lingering eyes from time to time, they always seemed to settle upon you instead of his wife.

He took an interest in your life, hobbies, dishing out flattering compliments here and there unlike your fiance whom just seemed consumed with business.

Months carried on, much like the seasons with many interactions involving the charming man but nothing but innocent, friendly banter occurred until the charity event you were attending tonight that Tommy was unable to join as he had a business meeting in downtown London.

Sitting at the bar, you’d run into one of your friends from college, sharing small talk and stories of the adventures you’d endured. Not a singular impure thought had crossed your mind, until an all too familiar voice spoke from behind you.

“Is that the sensational Ms. Y/L/N I see?” The seductive, yet charming voice pulled you away from your drink. Your subtle eyes turning to face the handsome, well complimented man.

Glancing around the room, to ensure none of Tommy’s men were around, you decided what was wrong indulging in an innocent conversation. After all the endless compliments he gave you made you feel good inside, something you hadn’t felt in awhile.

“Where’s Mr. Shelby tonight?”

“He’s um- out of town for business matters.” Pursing his lips together in disapproval, he signaled for the bartender, ordering drinks and somehow managing to place your favorite without even asking.

“A shame, a lovely lady like you. He shouldn’t trust other men to be able to control their arousal looking at such a dazzling woman. Especially with a figure like yours, you can’t find that often Y/N, you’re one of a kind if I’d say so myself.” Your cheeks blushed an amber shade of red, while he smiled slyly. There’s no harm in having a singular drink with a friend, right?

Taking his seat next to you, your friend whispered a word, ensuring that you’d call her if you were in danger as she had to leave due to an appointment early in the morning.

Motioning that you’d be alright, Mosely smiled widely, insisting on a cheers to the glorious happenings of life.

What was planned to be one drink turned into several as conversation carried on miraculously. He was quite an interesting character unlike his wife whom had left with another man.

“How does your marriage work? There’s no jealousy? Or hatred?” Mosley laughed coyly, simply intrigued by your question.

“Oh we both have the understanding of having a bit of scandalous fun, letting loose. Surely it gets boring looking at the same person all the time. Gives us a well needed break. I can assure you she won’t be telling Mr. Shelby. As shallow as it may sound she only cares about herself. As long as I give her attention when she desires it, then there is really no need to fret.” You clicked your tongue, attempting to wrap your head around that way of life. You had tried desperately to be intimate with Tommy, searching for his attention on a daily basis yet he seemed to not have a care in the world, simply setting you aside.

Maybe there was some truth to what Mosley was saying, but if Tommy really loved you like he claims to, you couldn’t possibly get bored of the person you’re in love with. Now here you were wondering if you ever truly were in love with him.

Reeling you from your thoughts, Mosley spoke confidently.

“It would probably be a tremendous stress relief for you. I have a room booked just down the avenue all to myself, since my lovely wife decided to spend the night elsewhere. What do you say in indulging in a bit of fun with one another. You always have been quite the spectacular interest to me.” Shaking your head and tracing the engagement ring, you thought back to the beginning. When Tommy put in the effort, was willing to do anything for you.

Surely you shouldn’t just throw it away due to relationship problems.

“We mustn’t. It wouldn’t be right.” Everything in you was fighting the urge to not go against the morally correct thing to do, yet you weren’t exactly saying no, and the liqour was encouraging the impure thoughts of what you’d like to do to this man.

It took you by surprise when he settled his hand upon your thigh beneath the bar.

“Y’know Y/N. Tommy would never have to know, and I must say. I’ve never seen your adoring smile as much before as I have tonight. You should indulge and aim for happiness in life. No regrets, so now I bid the fair question. Are you happy revoking yourself of such spontaneous pleasure and a night of fun or do you want to live in the ill construct of society?” He had caught you completely off guard, your mind was running a million miles a minute. You wanted to be a good fiance, you really did but the convincing, devilishly good looking man had a valid point.

Tommy barely paid any attention toward you, your sex life was nearly non existent, kids seemed to be out of the picture, not wanting to another one after Ruby passed.

If Tommy had taught you one thing, it was how to keep a secret, to move strategically.

Glancing down in curiosity, your eyes fell upon his semi hardened member in his pants, and the liquor was enough to convince you.

“So tell me in all of your beauty, and immaculate body, what’s it going to be Y/N?”

With questionable eyes, before you answered, you picked up the glass finishing off the sour amaretto, letting the liqour quench your thirst while excitement burned between your thighs.

The risk of getting caught and breaking the rules igniting a flame within your soul.

The next thing you knew Mosley’s hands were holding your ass up against the wall of an expensive hotel room, his lips pressed against yours in a heated frenzy of lust.

Your tongue delve into his mouth, battling for dominance, the sweet taste of rum and coke coating his tongue.

Shedding one another of clothing, you hands tangled with his belt, throwing the leather accessory on the carpeted floor, eager to retrieve his coveted member from his pants.

Oh how he made you want to commit terrible sins.

His cock sprang freely, needing desperately to be in between your soaked folds.

“My, my, what a treasure you are.” His voice was low, and flirtatious, one of his eyebrows peaking in interest at the sight of your breasts hanging freely, nipples already hardening from the sight of his nude body, imagining all the positions he could have you in.

“Take me, fuck me before I have the chance to feel any guilt.” He didn’t need another moment of convincing. Finally happy that he has you all to himself for no one to know, but he was sure of one thing. That this whole damn hotel was going to hear just how much he can pleasure you.

Thrusting inside you, you’d forgotten what it felt like to be so full. It had been months since Tommy had made love to you and being with another man felt terribly wrong but also phenomenally right.

“Oh fuck, how I’ve missed this!” Your fingers laced into his smooth, brown strands of hair as his cock infiltrated your blooming rose that was aching to be pollened.

He lifted you from the wall, repositioning you onto all fours on the bed.

He drilled into you relentlessly you ass richocheting with each combustive thrust, his balls merely slapping against your skin.

“Fuck, fuck! Don’t stop!” He smirked to himself, hands settling on your ass cheeks as he slammed into you over and over again relentlessly.

Pulling you back by your hair his lips connected to the warmth of your neck, leaving lavish kisses on your delicate, inviting skin.

You couldn’t help but grind back against him in a melodic rhythm, waves of undeniable pleasure coursing through your veins.

“My darling, we’ve only just begun.” Grabbing your sides and flipping you onto your back, you giggled like a school girl finally feeling happy after so long of being unsatisfied.

It wasn’t until nearly a year later until revelations came to life, a week before your wedding. Tommy had been switching sides unbenknowst to you, yet he allowed the “friendship” to continue on. That didn’t mean he wasn’t hesitant nor idiotic. He paid close attention from afar, deciding he had, had enough when the fourth night a week you hadn’t come home.

Mosley’s visits during the day to your house made him question what he was really there for. The longing stares, the playful insides jokes, the sudden shared interests helped him slowly piece matters together.

Noticing the way you smiled when he walked in the room, the way your eyes lit up like fireworks whenever he’d “accidentally” brush past you.

Tommy was hurt, hoping that this realization couldn’t be true, that he was over reacting. Yet Mosley’s marriage was far from devotion and true love, considering they each slept around as if it were nothing.

Sitting in the leather chair in the living room, he watched the clock tick. Hours on end passing by until you called at midnight, saying “the car had a flat tire and you’d get it looked at in the morning as you were tired”.

Has it really come to this point? The wedding was supposed to be in a week, yet Tommy hadn’t seen you plan for it one bit.

He began to question all the things that went wrong. He admitted he had put business before your relationship, always expecting you to watch Charlie, hardly having sex due to traveling so much for meetings. Could he blame you? There was only one thing for him to do to win back the love of his life.

Curled against Mosley’s chest, the fireplace was the only light in the room, tucked in the wall near the end of the bed.

He was spewing flirtatious jokes in your ear, making you giggle when suddenly the door flew open, causing you to jolt up, pulling the sheet over you breasts until you recognized who was at the door.

“Tommy?” Mosley rolled his eyes, scooting up from his laying position, reteriving a cigarette from the bedside table.

Tommy stood there as pale as a ghost, feeling guilt, knowing full well this was his fault. He should have been a better partner, he should have at the very least tried and now he was paying the price.

Looking at your nude body, entangled in the satin sheets with the enemy, his mouth was subtly agape, how did he not piece the puzzle together.

“What’s the matter Mr. Shelby? Surely this can’t come as a surprise to you. After all, a woman can only go unloved for so long, and a man can’t expect a woman’s love in return if he doesn’t work toward earning it.” Tommy didn’t know what to feel with both sets of your eyes on him. He was angry, upset, saddened, his heart felt like it was stuck in his throat, beating anxiously fast, as if it were a bomb waiting to burst through his skin.

Instead of speaking a word, Tommy simply exited the room, unable to blame either one of you.

Sighing and shoving the sheet off of you, you gathered your clothes, putting them on hastily in a disheveled manner before rushing out after your fiance.

“Oh let the blimey sap go Y/N, you’re better off without him!” Mosely shouted as you slammed the door behind you, smirking in his success that he had won you over, and had you to himself.

Reaching the stairwell, Tommy was sat on the top step, the smoke from his cigarette travelling into the thin air.

Frowning, you took a seat next to him, crossing your arms in shame and guilt.

“How did you know where I was?” He stared off into the distance, staring blankly at the wall.

“I have eyes everywhere Y/N. Rookie mistake only using this hotel and occasionally his house when the whore of a wife is gone rendezvousing with another man.” You thought you had been extremely articulate and careful, yet Tommy still found a way to outsmart you. Not once did you see any of his men in the same vicinity as you.

“So how long have you known?”

“I’ve had my suspicions for a few months now. Should’ve known sooner but I guess I’m not home enough or treat you well enough so you go and fuck the fascist.” Scoffing, he turned to you with a look of disapproval, but you weren’t intimidated anymore.

“I never promised you anything. I’ve given you everything for years on end, yet you can’t give me the one thing I’ve asked for.” In a quick, flash of a movement Tommy slapped his hand back against your cheek, grabbing your chin in an angered movement forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“You know I lost Ruby. You know damn well I’ve given you a house to live in. I’ve given you money, food. I’ve taken you off the streets. I’ll be damned if I don’t get a second chance. I wouldn’t be wasting my time here with you if I didn’t care Y/N.” Your eyes were wide in terror as he had never spoken to you in such a way, nor ever layed a hand on your skin.

Part of you wanted to scream for Mosley to come save you but the threatening look in Tommy’s eyes was daring you to do so. The once ocean blue eyes, now a venomous shade of sapphire.

“Tommy you’re scaring me.” He released your jaw, knowing that the impending, serious look on his face was enough that you would not run off.

Running your hand over the merely bruised skin, it was quite clear he held back force from the slap to your cheek, but you didn’t want to know what strength he was holding back. You felt as if you deserved it and wouldn’t deny him of that.

“Love is supposed to be scary isn’t it? You won’t find a man that will fight for you the way I am, not on the streets of Birmingham. I won’t allow you to make a fool of me any longer. Nor will I make a fool of you any longer. I will be there, I will show you affection, and mend my dishonarable traits to the best of my ability but you need to work with me Y/N. How am I supposed to know if you’re upset when you go silent, not voicing your concerns. Instead running to another man for a child.” He had a point but seeing his interactions with others made you believe he wasn’t one to negotiate unless it was on his terms, his way.

“Please, he doesn’t even know about that. I just wanted to feel loved, something I haven’t felt in quite a long time and frankly if this is your way of apologizing for always putting me second you can go fuck yourself because you are not the man that I agreed to marry anymore.” When you stood up to go back to the room, Tommy spoke up, dispelling the cigarette onto the lavish, patterned carpet.

“This ends here and now.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Tommy chuckled darkly, pulling an envelope from his coat.

“Read it.” Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you opened the letter to find he had looked into you.

The paper held addresses of family members, formal documents of taxation, and the history of you medical records. How did he get this?

This was private, and completely out of reach from anyone other than yourself.

“What-what is this?” With shaking hands you skimmed the words, recognizing every piece of information to be true.

“I researched you, something I should’ve done when we first met. Or at the very least taken an interest in, like you’ve said. You’ve evaded paying taxes, you were in a mental health institution for nearly two years for attempting to kidnap your sister’s child because the voices in your head told you the child was yours. A diagnosed anxiety ridden schizophrenic. You were released on May 7, due to good behavior and proper medication. Your family disowned you, but you still check in on them, don’t you?” Tears pricked at your eyelids, feeling completely vulnerable and at his mercy. These were all things you should have told him yourself but failed to do so, and now it’s biting you in the ass

“Give me a second chance and I can make this all go away Y/N. Wipe your file clean, adjust the tax forms without anyone knowing and ensuring your family goes unharmed. If I didn’t give a flying fuck about you, I would’ve just left. Can’t you see I love you, and I am trying. I do care for you, and I want to learn more, be able to help you more. You have to let me in.” A loud bang caused you to jump up from the floor. Glancing down the hallway, there were two men holding Mosely whom contained a bloody nose and a black eye. A gun placed directly beneath his chin, while your hands flailed to cover your mouth in shock and worry. The tears flooding down your heated cheeks.

“He doesn’t care about you y’know? He’s a fascist, looking to take the world for his own, fucking the hard working citizens and low income families. So either you come with me, and see what a good husband I can be, or Mosley here gets a bullet to the skull. After all I still love you even after all of the secrets you’ve kept from me. I suppose we’re even now, eh?” The men lifted Mosley, releasing the safety on the gun, making you wince and coming to an abrupt decision.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll stay with you! Just don’t hurt him. Let him go and we can all move on, okay?! But I swear Tommy, things better be different or I will take the streets over you.” Being satisfied with your answer, Tommy’s men dropped him in the hallway while your fiancé held out his hand, escorting you back home with him where you belonged.

Mosley stayed away to your surprise. Tommy and you coming to an agreement to push the wedding to a further date, mending and working on your issues like you should have done very long ago.

Tommy agreed to give you a child on the condition, that you communicated your feelings to which you obliged once he agreed to be more intimate and loving, coming to the realization business is not always first.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #oswald mosley #oswald mosley x reader #Peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #oswald mosley imagine #ranaewrites #request

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lace-coffin · 5 months

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adding onto Asa's newest pet coddling and babying his bugs, how would he react to us protecting them?

Like, maybe another member of the collection got out and found s/o where Asa keeps the bugs and, and startled s/o drops the giant tarantula from where they are on their knees. In their momentary fright, they flinch and shove the tarantula's enclosure, braking it and alerting Asa that something is wrong.

The startled tarantula starts crawling around, quickly moving in the escapee's direction, and just as Asa opens the door, his pet stops the escapee from squishing the tarantula they so fondly named Cocoa by covering it with their hand and scooping him (the tarantula) out of dangers way

this unfortunately leads to the breaking of Asa's pets' hand, however, s/o seems more concerned for Cocoa, as they now have the giant furry spider clutches closely for their chest, but not to tightly, as Asa had taught them to handle it gently

Also I loved the last one!!! very sweet and exactly what I was hoping for, thank you so much!!

Hi I’m really glad you enjoyed the last one! It actually turned out to be one of my fave fics I’ve written and I really appreciate how much detail you always give me to work with! 💖

How would Asa Emory react to his pet/SO injuring themselves to save one of his bugs?

Asa Emory x gn!Reader

Requests are open!

Trigger warning for mild violence and blood.

Shit shit shit. This was not was Asa needed right now. One of his older failed projects had bolted past him and disappeared into the dark halls of the hotel. The Collector in question was currently dragging himself up from the floor with the aid of a near by table, winded and panting.

In a moment of accidental carelessness he’d turned his back, deeming the captive inundated enough to leave. After a round of ‘experimenting’ it wasn’t like he was in any state to move, at least Asa thought. the man laid bloodied and wounded in a pile, paper mache mask stapled to his clammy skin.

Apparently he still had some fight left in him, swiping Asa’s ankle before he could start chaining him back up. That led to the situation now.

By the time he’d gathered himself and trudged to the door the captive was out of sight, it would be impossible to find him right away, he loved his hotel but the twisting halls all blended into one, even if you were a regular visitor. The bloodied and beaten man could be anywhere by now, Asa having no way in knowing where for sure.

Suddenly the sense of urgency came crashing down on him. You were currently spending your allotted free time wandering the hotel, only ever drifting between the places that your master pre-approved as safe for you but on your own nonetheless. Usually the jingling collar on your neck served enough warning if you were to drift, the zombie like prisoners in the lower levels knew not to touch something marked by the hotels owner, one scrape on you could mean a punishment that would leave them wishing they were already dead.

Asa knew in the delirious state the man was in he wouldn’t know nor care you were off bounds, desperate and disoriented, looking for any opportunity for escape from this hellhole.

He could check the cameras, see if he could track the escapee making his way across the monitors but it would be too time consuming, time already not being on his side with you loose in the hotel, blissfully unaware of the deranged man stalking the halls. Fuck, he’d have to do this on foot and now.

On the other side of the hotel you hum quietly, running your fingers across the various terrariums in the specimen room. This was your favourite room to visit, having named all the critters to your liking and much to Asa’s amusement hidden under annoyance. You were particularly fond of the Blue Death Feigning Beetles, just a bunch of silly little blue guys that didn’t really know what was going on but happy to be there nonetheless.

Only one specimen held a higher place in your heart. Cocoa, an older rich brown curly haired tarantula or Tliltocatl albopilosus as Asa insisted. Asa had gifted her to you after seeing how well you handled the other specimens with a particular lean towards tarantulas. One of the easier kinds to keep, she lived up to her specie description well, docile and less prone to kicking hairs or biting. You two had bonded well, spending evenings together on the specimen room floor.

You watched happily as she tottered across the floor in-front of you, never letting her get too far before coaxing her back into your palms. Just as you were going to pluck her from the floor and return her to her tank the door slams open, leaving an indent in the wall where the handle smashed into it.

Crazed bloodshot eyes met yours from across the room, this was obviously one of sir’s projects, but what was it doing here? Fear spiked up your spine like ice as he started approaching with haste, blood gurgling in his mouth making anything he was attempting to say unintelligible. He probably thought you could help him. Poor guy. You felt a little pitiful for him.

That was until he lunged for you, sputtering blood over your fresh clothes from his dripping maw. You let out a startled scream, this seeming to annoy him more, slapping a dirty hand over your mouth in an attempt to silence you and stop his tormenter from locating him. You sink your teeth into his hand in retaliation, the feeling of splitting skin vile under your canines. He howls in pain, shoving you away from him and onto the floor.

You do the first thing you can think of and mentally apologise to cocoa for what’s about to happen. Gripping the table leg you shove the table over, by proxy pushing her tank onto the floor, with as much strength as you can muster. not before taking inventory of where cocoa is on the wooden floor, not wanting her to be hurt in the process.

Asa now only a hallway away hears the crash and swears under his breath, his worse fears becoming real as it becomes apparent you and the escaped victim are sharing the same room. He can only hope he gets to you before you sustain any injuries.

In the blur of chaos cocoa is startled and skitters across the room towards the man. the delirious man snarls in anger and fear, raising his foot to crush her under his tattered shoe. eyes snapping wide in terror you lurch across the floor for her as fast as you can. You manage to grab her just in time, your breath shaky as you scoop her up. The man above you takes this opportunity to stomp as hard as he can on your hand, the sick sound of your fingers crunching under his weight reaching your ears as you wail in pain.

Just as the man makes a run for it the door bangs open loudly to present a less than happy Asa, infuriated murderous look haunting his features. The man responsible for this whole ordeal visibly pales even more. Before he can shake off the shock a blade is swept across his throat with accuracy, leaving the ghostly man to crumple to the floor, gurgling on his own spit and blood. Your master watches him fall with a sick satisfaction, this is soon wiped from his face and replaced with concern when his gaze meets you.

Despite being disheveled and exhausted you hold Cocoa to your chest gently, whispering sweet words of comfort to her. You weren’t sure if the words were more for her or you but it didn’t matter right now, you were both safe.

You eyes finally rest on Asa and your expression softens, knowing things will be ok for definite now. “Sir…I’m sorry about the tank, I didn’t know what else to do, how to reach you. Cocoa’s ok, I’ve checked her over and she’s fine, see?” You cross the room to your master and extend your palm for cocoa to waddle onto Asa’s hand, letting him give her the once over.

“You took perfect care of her, I’m thankful, pet.” A small smile creeps onto his face but is quickly swept off as he sees your hand, red and throbbing, fingers already starting to bruise. Asa quickly places cocoa into an extra tank and turns back to you. “Hand” he orders, waiting for you to place your abused hand into his larger one. He looks over it carefully, flexing a few fingers and hearing you hiss. There’s definitely some breaks.

His face takes on a guilty but frustrated look. “What is this? You should’ve tended to yourself first” he lets out a deep breath. “Excuse my temper pet but you’re hurt, your hand is most likely fractured in a few places…I’m sorry for letting this happen.” He says remorsefully, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sorry for not telling you sooner it’s just, I guess I didn’t even really register it, sure it hurt like a motherfucker-“

“Pet. language..”

“Sorry sir, it hurt real bad but I was so focused on making sure cocoa was safe it seemed like a non issue at the time.”

“I forgive you, little one” he whispers into your hair. you two stay like that for a moment, basking in each-others safety after the hectic events of this afternoon. Eventually the taller breaks away from the embrace with a sigh, gesturing to your damaged hand.

“Let’s get you fixed up and fed hm?” He suggests, suddenly hiking you up into his arms, your legs scrambling to wrap around his wide waist as you lean your head into the crook of his neck. Asa hum’s calmly as he makes his way through the halls, you snuggle deeper into his embrace, the events of the day finally weighing down on you.

“You can rest now cricket, sir has you, you’re safe.”

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collection #writing #my writing

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georgiapeach30513 · 8 months

Text

Kinktober 2023, Day 1

The Girls Come Easy

Summary: You had built an audience as an influencer, and everybody was ready for you to document going to see your favorite band, but what was documented was not what you had expected. When the boys invited you backstage, and took your phone you was not prepared for them to broadcast the debauchery and chaos with them. One too many drinks and hits off whatever they gave you, and you became their toy for the night. A night you and all your followers would not soon forget…

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader X Clark Kent X Mickey Henry

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, oral sex, anal, double vaginal penetration, double penetration, threats of triple penetration, pinching, sucking, fingering, recording without knowledge, multiple orgasms, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 2.7K

Series Masterlist

Taking out your phone, you look through the excited messages from your followers for this moment. A moment you have waited to happen for years. Not just going to see your favorite band with the dumbest name; The Twisted Turnips, but you had been invited to meet them. They had asked for you! But you couldn’t bring anyone with you, and you of course had said that was just fine. Anything to meet them.

The concert was amazing, but your adrenaline rush was still hanging in strong. You were going to pass out after this. Your body could only handle so much, and it was reaching its peak.

All three of them were disgustingly attractive; Mickey with his eyeliner, and penchant to never wear clothes. Lloyd with his perfect coiffed hair and a devious smirk. That man could ruin your life, and you would crawl on your knees for more. And then the brooding and dangerously handsome Clark. He was the quiet one of the group, but you just knew there was something underneath that coy exterior.

They had somehow found out you were going to be at their concert, and requested for you to come backstage. You? Each moment in this holding room feels like forever. Isolating you after a big concert is making your anxiety crash through the ceiling.

You settle back, picking at your nails with anticipation. Running through every different scenario you could think of for how this was going to go. But when that door creaks open, and you get the first flash of the bluest eyes, you stand up at attention. Lloyd’s devil may care attitude is more apparent in person. Mickey’s grin is damn near sadistic, and Clark is licking his lips like he had found his next meal.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you listening to trash like us for?” Lloyd’s voice was as smooth as butter. Laced with whatever booze or drugs he had consumed before coming to see you. He stalks around your body, letting his fingers run over your exposed skin, and it sends a sharp chill up your spine.

Alarms going off in your head, because the way they were staring at you like they were ready to devour you. And you like it. “Where’s your phone, sweetheart?” Mickey holds out his hand, and you give him an odd look. “We know you like documenting everything, but you shouldn’t document this. It’s private.”

“Oh. Okay, that seems fair,” when you hand him your phone, and Clark moves to stand in front of you quickly. His wide stature blocking you from seeing anything behind him. “So…why…why did…it’s hot in here,” you take a deep breath. It wasn’t hot it is stifling.

“I think it’s just you,” Lloyd whispers as his mouth closes in on your neck. He pushes his crotch into your backside, and you whimper, feeling the growing bulge. “What’s wrong? You can do your research on us, but we can’t on you?”

“Wh-wh-what?” Your words hiccup out while Mickey makes his return to your side. “What’re you…oh god,” you moan. Someone or some people had their hands cupping your covered pussy.

“God’s no longer here. We’re your gods. And we’re going to make sure you have the night to remember. Isn’t that what your filthy little mind thought up?” All three of them stop their ministrations. Crowding you, and making it impossible to move away from them. Eyeing you up, and needing you to confess.

“Clark?” Mickey whispers on your neck, and Clark pulls up his phone, clearing his throat.

“I lose all self control as Lloyd fucks deep into my cunt, while Clark owns my ass. Pounding me into next year, and Mickey fucks into my throat so hard, I know I died and gone to hell. There was no place for this amount of sin in heaven,” Clark speaks softly. Moving closer to you before his mouth hovers right over yours.

“Where…where did you get that?” Standing behind you, Lloyd pops open your pants. Sliding a hand down your front, letting his fingers slide through your slick. Palming over your clit when he enters two fingers. It is happening so fast, and you can’t catch your breath, but fuck this felt better than you could have ever imagined.

“One of your little followers informed someone, who knows someone, and it doesn’t matter. You wanted us to fuck you, and you proudly state it to the world that you are nothing but wet holes for us, we thought we’d be generous, and make you nothing but our filthy slutty soaking wet holes. A sweet whore for our enjoyment. Isn’t that what you wanted?” You whimper as Lloyd starts stretching you out with three fingers.

Your body starts to grind down on him as the other two touch and kiss over your body. Hands start ripping off articles of clothing, because who needs to take them off like a normal person? Letting your tits free and both Clark and Mickey attach their mouths to them.

Your eyes roll in the back of your head as you sink down into an unexplainable high. “There you go, honey. Three mouths, three dicks, and six hands that are going to destroy you. Give you some inspiration for your next smutty fantasy. See if you can describe the sounds we make, okay?”

The two men sucking on your tits pull off with a loud pop. Your nipples pebbled and swollen ache to have them back on your body, but they are just getting started. Lloyd looks over to some stand in the corner, giving it a wink, and brings your body in front of theirs.

Clark grabs your jaw, turning you to meet his mouth with a deep kiss. His tongue sliding past your lips, while Lloyd slaps at your tits. Grabbing them in both his meaty hands, he gives them a jiggle before holding tight to your waist.

Mickey lifts up your legs, and spreads you out wide, “Look at what a tight little pussy this is. Are you ready for us to make your dreams come true?” Mumbling out a yes over Clark’s tongue, Mickey walks in between your thighs. Letting Lloyd hold you up, and without warning his thick dick crashes into your warmth, and you pull away from Clark watching him stab into you. Relentless and hard, making you see stars.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, but Lloyd grabs hold of your nipples, pinching the nubs hard, “Oh, we’re just getting started. You’ll wanna stay away for the grand finale. What are you?”

Distracted. You are distracted and in a trance at Mickey cramming himself into you. Lost in watching your body stretch to accommodate him, every inch of him disappearing in the depths of your pussy.

“What are you?” Lloyd shouts, and Clark smacks you across the face. “What are you?”

“I’m…” what are you? You didn’t know what answer he was looking for. It is hard to concentrate on how freeing this felt.

“Are you our whore?” Clark circles his hand around your throat, and your mouth falls open. So much pleasure. Too much some might say, but if you die from cock, you’ll take it. Lloyd spits down into your open mouth, and you swallow it like it was the best thing you had ever tasted.

“Yeah, she’s our whore. Look at how well she’s taking Mickey’s cock. She didn’t even need to get used to the stretch, she just took it so well. But let’s hear that whore mouth say it. Tell me. What are you?” He asks again, and you whine as pleasure starts building in your tummy. Mickey is hitting all the right spots, and you can hardly focus, much less think.

“What the fuck are you?” Lloyd gives your nipples another hard squeeze, and Clark’s hold on your neck gets tighter right as Mickey races to the finish line. Letting your walls clench down tight around him.

“I’m your whore! I’m your fucking whore! Oh my fuuuuckk!” Mickey pulls out of you and holds your legs spread open. Slapping at your clit over and over again. You squirm. You try to bring your legs together as the gateway to hell gets ever closer.

Strings of your arousal pull off him, but he keeps slapping until your pleasure is squirting out on his face, and Lloyd places you on the floor. Face down, ass up when he squats behind you, gripping your hips so tight, you know you’re going to bruise. He starts railing into you. “You didn’t tell me how good this pussy felt? You like being used?”

“Uh huh,” your voice is already sounding a bit hoarse, but you didn’t want him to stop. You still needed to feel Clark. You need his girth in your body. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” the only word you could get out, and you didn’t want to know anything more. This was the perfect definition of what you wanted, and how you wanted it.

It had become tiring to be this perfect influencer, so to have three men use you, telling you what you need, is setting your world on fire, and it was the best feeling. “Yes! Yes!”

“You’re enjoying this, huh? Look at this sloppy little cunt. Got you creaming all over my cock. You going to let us each come in this pussy? Watch as we leak out of that abused hole? Or do you want each hole filled with cum? Be our little cumdump.”

“Yes. Yes! Yes, I do! Fuck me! Fuck your whore. Fucking…ahh!” Your fingers dig into the floor, trying to find something to ground yourself as more pleasure builds up. “Lloyd, I’m going to…” it happens all so fast and your legs start to tremble from pleasure. “I’m coming. Fuck, yes. Fuck!”

He picks you up by your waist, and starts lowering you over Clark. Having your back up against his chest on the coach, and Clark’s meaty hands hold onto you. Guiding you lower over his thick engorged cock, and you cry. Tears brim your waterline, but you persevere not stopping until your cunt swallows him whole, and Lloyd and Mickey point chuckling at how you are struggling to take him.

“Next place it’s going is your ass,” you whimper, and he starts bouncing you over him. Squatting over him, and hands on your chest when Mickey brings a phone right up to your cunt being stuffed full of Clark Kent. “Are you smiling for the camera?”

Answering only by the most pleasure filled mewls. He slams you harder over him, and you scream out nonsensical words. Unable to think of anything. “Mickey, let Lloyd hold the camera and let’s see if this pussy can take more.”

“You’re getting a lot of hearts, sweetheart,” Lloyd mumbles as he takes the phone from Mickey. Placing it right at your entrance as his band mate tries to stuff you more.

“No. No, it won’t fit. Ahh!”

“Shh,” Mickey coos down at you. “You wrote it. Let’s try.”

“Please, please!” You look at where the three of you are trying to connect and scream. You doubted your body's ability to take all that. Did they have to have such large cocks?

“Shh,” Clark is the one in your ear. Stilling his motions as he kisses softly over your neck. “We’ll make it fit. Go on, Mickey. She’s the little whore that wanted us in all kinds of ways. Fulfill her fantasies.”

Mickey gives a hard push, and tears spring to your eyes as he fills your cunt with another cock. It hurt so good. The fullness in your heated cunt with both of them in there was soothing. It felt right. “I’m about to bust a nut,” Mickey exhales. “My…fuckfuckfuck. It’s so tight. It’s fucking tight. Fuck. Fuck. Lloyd, you won’t fit in there this time.”

“What?” You sob, looking in between the two of them, trying to find Lloyd who was being the camera man.

“We’re going to make you watch this video later,” Lloyd threatens, keeping the camera right on your throbbing pussy.

“No! That was fiction!”

“You admitted you did the research. You watched some disgusting porn about a girl getting her pussy stuffed with three cocks. You said it would be bliss to have the band as one with you,” Lloyd’s mouth turns up into an evil smirk as he moves the camera to your face.

“Her’s a little scared pussy cat. Come on, Sugar Tits, you said you were our whore. All your fans would love to know that you can take every cock.”

“I have three holes! Fuck me, raw, just not all in my pussy.”

“Tonight,” Lloyd adds in.

“Yeah, tonight. Ahh!” You hiss through your teeth as Mickey pulls out of you. Clark lifts you up, and moves his giant dick to your ass, and you bite down as a new sensation of pleasurable pain ripples through your body. Your ass had never been stretched out so wide. It happened so quickly, you couldn’t even think.

Mickey crawls onto the couch, straddling both you and Clark when he starts slapping you with his dick. “I got to stare at your ass?” Lloyd asks, positioning himself in between your thighs. “Fuck,” groaning as he pushes himself into your warmth, and Mickey does the same.

“Fucking whore!” Clark rumbles behind you. “Look at her taking every single one of us. All three of us, just like the goddamn whore she is. Hollow out those cheeks, Sugar Tits, we’re about to take advantage of your holes.”

You relax, letting the three of them command your body. Using you like their sex toy. Nothing has ever felt like this. You were ruined for life. It was the most glorious and freeing feeling being used for their pleasure. Grunts, growls, biting, slapping, and all on your body.

Deep into your body. Over and over again. Every part of your body ripples and recoils with their motions. “You’ve got two hands, too, Sugar Tits. Maybe next time the other two can join us, hmm? Such a fucking whore.”

“You look pretty with your makeup smearing down your face.”

“Kiss your Instagram, goodbye. I doubt after tonight you’ll have one,” they say words, but you can’t hear them. All you can do is feel. Every hard thrust into you takes you even further away from life. And closer to whatever hell they were living in.

Moaning out in pleasure until the four of you are just a sea of sin. Just when you think you can’t take anymore Mickey pinches your tits, Clark holds on to your neck, and Lloyd makes tight circles on your clit. Had it not been for Mickey jackhammering into your throat, they would hear what they were doing to you.

“Come!” Lloyd shouts, and cum from all three of them spurt deep into your channels, and you sigh as Mickey pulls out of your mouth, and stuffing his leaking cum back into your mouth.

Dumb on cock and pleasure. It is blissful. Your eyes start to close as Mickey brings someone’s phone back over to you. Holding it over your pussy as Lloyd pulls himself out. “You see what we did to her? Got her gaping, and leaking of cum. And look at this,” he brings the camera back to your face, and gives you a little slap.

You look at him with a dopey smile, and a whimper. “She’s good and dumb guys. Say bye to your favorite influencer. She’s our whore now. You heard it yourselves. I hope you enjoyed the show. Oh, you want to see her ass. Go on, big guy, they want to see your ‘seed’ leak out of her ass.”

“Mmm,” you whine as Clark pulls you off him. Showing your ass to the phone, but you're slowly falling asleep. It was amazing. You’re glad no one saw you.

“Yeah. It’s a pretty sight, seeing all those sloppy holes. Well. We’re signing off now. Goodnight,” Mickey ends the live feed on your instagram, ignoring all the calls, texts, and everything else that was popping up on your feed.

His finger moves around quickly as Lloyd and Clark tend to your exhausted body.

Deactivate.

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @buckybarnesisdaddy @magnificentsaladllama

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fanmoose12 · 8 months

Text

“Petra fancies you.”

So abrupt and indelicate – what else should Levi expect from his own personal cause of headache, Hange Zoe? Well, if he was being honest with himself, he fully expected that by now she’d already get on top of the table in the center of the cafeteria and start what only she can classify as dancing. That’s what she usually does when she has as much alcohol as Levi had noticed she’d consumed tonight.

But, apparently, that course of action has gotten a bit too boring and predictable for Hange’s ever-changing tastes.

So, now she decides to pester him of all people.

Levi isn’t so easy to pester, though, so he does the most logical thing one can in such a predicament – he does his best to ignore Hange’s presence entirely. He stares resolutely into his own cup of piss that people around here deem good enough to call beer, and hopes that Hange would get bored of him and his silence swiftly and move onwards to find another victim.

That, however, doesn’t happen.

Hange doesn’t bulge, as though she had been glued to the chair right beside him, and she stares. Intently. Levi can practically feel the force of that stare on the back of his head.

And when it becomes too unbearable even for him, he sighs, shifts a bit in his seat, tilts his head upwards to meet Hange’s eyes and asks a pointless, “What?”

Giddy that her ruse had worked, Hange moves closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. She does so without his consent, without so much as mumbling a question. She invades his personal space like it isn’t much of an obstacle to her, like for her - it does not even exist. She always does it, and for some reason that Levi fears to find – he always lets her.

And Hange’s insolence, unfortunately, does not stop there. No, it grows, evolves, and so she gets even closer, and before Levi can utter a single sound of protest or, at least, throw at her a dirty look that will prove to be absolutely useless against her lack of manners, she unceremoniously, downright shamelessly, throws her legs onto his lap.

“Petra,” she whispers, embracing him with both the retching stench of beer and intoxicating heat of her body, “fancies you.”

Levi stays put – against his better judgment, despite all the warnings that are blasting in his head louder than the bells that announce the opening of gates that lead to the dangers of the world beyond the walls. He doesn’t kick Hange, doesn’t even curse, he stays put – because he has to. Because otherwise Hange’ll think him weak. Or, worse, she’ll get ideas, funny ones. And, clearly, she has too many of them already.

“And you know this how?” he asks, again – against his better judgment.

Hange throws her head back and laughs – loudly, and, Levi thinks, a bit wickedly.

“Because I have eyes, silly. And only a blind would miss the looks she constantly throws at you. Gods, the girl wants you to devour her. Or, maybe, she intends on doing the devouring—”

The thought, the mental image that Hange so effectively painted in his head stirs an unpleasant feeling in Levi. His insides churn uncomfortably, like he’s about to puke. The thought is… a troubling one. Petra is a nice girl, a pretty one, there is absolutely no denying that. One, as Hange had put it, would have to be completely blind not to know that. And, despite what some may say about him, Levi, in fact, is not blind to the appearances of others.

However, viewing Petra in that particular regard has never occurred to him. Not even once has it crossed his mind.

Petra is a member of his squad, she’s his subordinate, she’s someone that he was entrusted to teach, guide and – if possible – protect. That is his duty, one he tries very hard to fulfill. And, no matter how beautiful she is, he can’t see her as anyone else, rather than his subordinate.

“Aww,” Hange places her head on his shoulder, and steals his cup, taking a generous sip from it, while Levi is too busy debating his next move. Should he be the responsible one, throw the drunken idiot over his shoulder and carry that embarrassment back to her room before she makes an even bigger fool out of herself, or should he simply kick her down to the floor and leave before she manages to stand up straight enough to follow after him? “You don’t like her?”

Levi doesn’t give an answer, although it seems that Hange doesn’t actually need one. She takes another gulp of beer, puts the cup back down on the table with enough force that the table rattles and the liquid splashes all around, and launches into a rant that is surprisingly passionate – especially considering that its subject has nothing to do with her beloved Titans.

“Why don’t you like Petra back? She is amazing! Kind, and smart, and cute, and skilled, and so, so graceful! Honestly, among all of our comrades, she’s like an angel, an actual ray of light amidst all these horrors! Most would kill to get us lucky as you are!”

“So why are you still here?” Levi drawls, glancing at Hange from the corner of his eyes. She looks absolutely wild – with cheeks flashed, glasses askew and practically slipping down her nose and hair in more state of disarray than Levi ever remembers seeing. Hange is a mess personified, a compilation of everything Levi despises combined in one single person, and yet – for some reason, he finds that he cannot find the strength to look away from the radiant spectacle in front of him. “If you like her so, why sit here with me, if you can go and woo her?”

“I just told you! She sees no one but you. And besides,” Hange’s voice grows quiet, her whole demeanor dims, becomes more timid, as her cheeks get just a bit redder than before and she mumbles, “She’s not really my type, you know?”

“Hm,” Levi nods, and – because teasing can go both ways, and, that, without a doubt, what Hange absolutely deserves for all her mocking – adds. “You must really not like her then.”

“Eh? Why would you say that? Just because I don’t like her in that way, I—”

“Because you sit here,” Levi says, interrupting what almost surely would have turned into another infuriating word vomit. “Practically draped all over me, while Petra is in the very same room. What would she think when she sees us like that, huh?”

Hange opens her mouth, blinks a few times, her gaze rapidly shifting between Levi’s face and the corner that Petra and other members of his squad are occupying. She looks so damn clueless in that moment, in equal parts confused and ashamed that Levi can’t help but revel in the lost expression on her face.

Not many are able to stun Hange Zoe into silence, after all.

“Oh… I… I didn’t think of that.”

“Yeah, you’re shit at this kind of thing.”

Hange begins to pull away, nearly gets to her feet – or, well, at least, she tries to. Levi doesn’t let her, though, and instead wraps an arm around her waist, bringing her even closer to him. Hange doesn’t try to wiggle out of his hold, and – strangely – doesn’t even comment on their rather curious position. She stays still and silent, absorbed in thought.

Whatever it is that’s going through her genius mind right now, Levi doesn’t particularly wish to know.

Hange is quiet, Hange was beaten at her own game by none other than him, and what’s most important – she’s right next to him, wrapped securely in the circle of his arms.

Levi can’t help but enjoy it, delight in this brief moment of peace. It’s not often that life grants him a chance to taste what real joy feels like.

But it’s Hange fucking Zoe that is with him. So, naturally, that peace is laughably short-lived.

She starts squirming, but not with intent to leave, as Levi immediately begins to fear. Instead, she just tilts her face up and searches for his eyes, holding his gaze, when she finds them.

“Say, Levi,” she begins in a tone that can – and definitely does – mean trouble. “If you weren’t sitting with me right now, but, let’s say, with Petra, would you still—”

Levi clicks his tongue and cuts Hange off before this nonsense goes far enough to ruin the moment entirely.

“Shut up, four-eyes,” he grunts curtly, but – without even a hint of malice that his words intended. “Let’s just… stay like this. Preferably, in silence.”

As much as he enjoys the sound of her voice – and he does, although he’d never admit it to her face, there is enough ruckus in the room without Hange’s insistent blabbering adding to the chaos.

She throws a curious look at him, but, thankfully, doesn’t argue. She snuggles closer to him, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

Levi swallows a content sigh. This… this feels nice.

Whatever is that type that Hange had mentioned, he isn’t sure he has one. But what he’s absolutely sure of is that he likes this – having Hange so close to him that he can feel the warmth radiating from her body. Even the smell of sweat she hasn’t washed off for god knows how long and the inescapable stench of beer that hangs all over her like a particularly nasty cloud cannot sour this moment for Levi. And if it were Petra in her place, or Nifa, Nanaba, Mike, or any other man or woman, Levi is sure none of them could make him feel so warm, so at peace with just their presence.

“Someday,” Hange murmurs, as she absentmindedly picks at the fabric of his shirt. She sounds sleepy, Levi can’t help but note. It seems like he’ll have no choice but carry her to her room, after all. But – later, just a bit later. This moment is way too precious for him to cut it off so soon. “We’ll have to talk about—” Hange gestures vaguely – “this whole thing. But – not today. Not when I’m so drunk. I want,” she looks up again, meeting his eyes with a smile that snatches Levi’s breath right out of his lungs, “to be sober when I say this to you. I want to remember how your face looks when you hear it.”

What is that thing that Hange to say to him? What is it that she so badly wants him to hear?

Whatever it is, Levi wants Hange to say it. He wants to hear it. And – there are some things he needs to tell Hange too. Things – that for now – he’s afraid to reveal even to himself.

And when – or if – the time for such confessions will come, he wants to remember Hange’s face too. Down to every detail.

But now, it’s not the time to ponder on such things. Now, he has a drunken idiot he needs to take care of.

So with a sigh, Levi raises to his feet, lifting Hange along with him, not letting go of her even for a second.

After all, where would he be without his ridiculous four-eyes?

#see???? i've told i'm back hehe #levihan

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im-not-corrupted · 7 months

Text

I was consumed by the idea of Merman!Hob in the last few days and now I'm writing a Dreamling fic about it so have a small, 1.7k snippet from the much larger fic :)

Includes: near-drowning, near death experiences, perhaps many medical inaccuracies because I am not a doctor and haven't edited yet, Merman!Hob, Prince!Dream and some light angst.

---------

He awakes with a gasping, heaving breath. His lungs are greedy things, sucking in air with desperation, and he presses a hand to his chest. Beneath his palm, his heart races. Adrenaline and panic both fill his veins and his hand shakes. His lungs feel full, but as he coughs mostly involuntarily, nothing comes up at all.

It takes a bit for him to calm down. When he does, when his lungs stop heaving and he stops coughing and he is left with nothing but an ache in his lungs, his head and a rawness in his throat, he looks around himself.

He sits on a beach, the sands golden and kissed by the sun. It shines down on him, blessing his face with its light. His clothes are soaked through and no doubt ruined, and before him—before him is the ocean.

It holds none of the fierceness he saw earlier, and he stares at it blankly. It looks as welcoming, as lovely, as it did the day he stepped onto the ship. His mind had been occupied, yes, but he had enough awareness to acknowledge the sea’s beauty.

Not enough awareness to acknowledge its dangers, though. He remembers in startling clarity the coldness of its waters, the ferocity with which it drowned him, the storm that waged and threw him overboard.

He should’ve been more careful.

It is not just the ocean that lies before him, but a man, too. A man, staring at him with honey-eyes that catch the sunlight as though they were made for it, with a curiosity on his face that, if it weren’t for the sudden anxiety twisting his all-too empty stomach, would’ve endeared him immediately. His skin is tan, golden like the sands, and some distant part of his brain wants to press his lips to that skin and find out what it tastes like for himself. Like ocean salt and sweat and the sun itself, he thinks, and then considers the possibility that he may have suffered some brain damage due to oxygen deprivation.

It takes him a bit to find his voice. During that time, the man—sitting in the ocean as though he belongs there, ignorant of its gentle waves lapping at him—continues to stare, head tilted like a particularly curious bird. “Who are you?” he asks, wincing at the hoarseness of his throat. It feels scraped raw, and he thinks he would like to simply not speak for a while, only—only this is rather strange, isn’t it?

The man’s shoulders shake with laughter. He is a beautiful creature, this man, with chestnut hair framing his face. Laughter, and amusement, becomes him. Distantly, Morpheus is aware that he should probably take offence at the man’s laughter, only—only he doesn’t really have the energy. If anything, he thinks he’d much rather sleep. “The one who saved you, obviously. Or did you forget you nearly drowned?"

He has half a mind to scowl at the strange man in the water, but only just has enough energy to narrow his eyes. "You saved me," he repeats dumbly. In his defence, he did nearly drown, and sleep calls to him now. Nearly drowning is, apparently, rather exhausting. "We were in the middle of the ocean. We weren't even close to any land. How did you—"

Come to think of it, he can't recall having seen this man's face before. Though perhaps that's explained easily. He was distracted on the ship, after all, and it wasn't like he went out of the way to remember the entire crew. Both Telute and Lucienne always said he should try to interact with people a little more than he does, but he thinks recent events made him exempt from that rule these last few months.

Still. The man's statement doesn't really make sense. They were in the middle of an ocean, and in a storm no less. It would've been impossible for the man to save him then, at least not without a boat or ship of his own.

Thinking of it made his head hurt more. For a moment he feels ready to simply shrug and accept the nonsensical answer as truth in the hopes that maybe the man would leave him to rest. Logically, he knows that isn't what will happen at all. If this man knows who Morpheus is, if he recognises him, then there will be some kind of demand. A boon for saving the Prince's life.

He can't do anything about that now, though, and the idea of laying on this beach and letting himself wither under the sun's heat seems very appealing. He doesn't even know where they are, or how close he is to his kingdom. How he's supposed to make it back in this condition, he doesn't know. The task seems impossible, in all honesty.

The man does not leave him to rest, not even when Morpheus simply nods stiffly and says, "Sure. Saved me. Alright." He remains in the ocean actually, the waves lapping at his torso, and continues to stare at him blankly as though expecting something a little more. Eventually, he rolls his eyes—Rude, Morpheus thinks, but hardly cares at all in the moment—and moves a little closer. It looks almost like the ocean parts for him, but that's ridiculous.

Then—well, then things get even stranger. Which also seems impossible, but—there they are. The man shifts in the water and brings what looks like a tail out of the ocean, all golden scales and fins. Beautiful, he thinks, knowing he's staring but seemingly unable to help it. Of course the man's tail would be golden. That only makes sense when the rest of him could've been carved from sunlight.

A little belatedly, he realises just what he's staring at. Which is the man, who had a fish's tail.

Hallucinating. He is hallucinating, then. That makes sense. Still, he can't help but laugh quietly—it makes him wince, his lungs still raw and aching, but the pain is temporary and certainly doesn't matter much if he's hallucinating—and says, "You're a merman."

The statement is ludicrous. Morpheus wonders just how much damage nearly drowning can do to a person, and then figures he doesn't want to know at all, actually.

"That is what you call us, yes," the man agrees easily.

Sure. Why not. "Why did you save me then?"

He shrugs softly. “Too pretty for death,” the—the merman, of all things, tells him. It sounds almost petulant.

He is losing his mind. He had swallowed a lot of water. A merman. “One can be too pretty for death?” he asks weakly, his throat hoarse and his chest tight with pain. The ridiculous nature of the question at least makes that pain easy to ignore. It will get him later, he knows that much, but he lets himself be distracted by his amusement at the situation for a while.

The merman blinks at him, expression entirely serious. “You are.”

”Right.” Right. Of course. Too pretty for death. That makes sense. As much sense as a merman fishing him out of the water does.

Whatever energy let him carry this conversation leaves him suddenly and he falls onto his back on top of the sand, his elbows failing to hold him up any longer. The sun glares down at him and he gazes back up at it blearily. Exhaustion clings to him just as the beach does to his sea-soaked clothes. Sleep seems like a wonderful, bright idea.

He let his eyes fall shut. It isn't very effective for blocking out the sun’s rays—it remains insistent, and closing his eyes doesn't give him the satisfaction of darkness that he dearly wants. Still, while that would’ve been a problem any other time, his body yearned for the void, to let the dark take him. It would be easy to simply lay here and wither, until either the tide takes him or someone finds him. Whichever came first. He didn’t mind either way.

Then the merman spoke again. “Are you dying, pretty one?”

It took a great deal of effort, but he grunts, “No.”

”Are you sure?”

He is not, actually. But that is no concern of this mermaid, and he merely answers, “I am certain.”

Silence follows that statement. Morpheus lets himself relax, lets himself hope this is it. He can sleep now, he thought—and is quickly proven wrong, for the merman states, “You look like you’re dying. Does anybody look for you?”

He hardly cares. Distantly, though, he thinks Lucienne might be. Jessamy and Matthew, too. “Perhaps,” he says after a couple of minutes pass, when he realises he has not yet replied. "I would like to sleep now."

The merman makes a considering noise. "I do not know much about humans," he said slowly, and Morpheus can practically feel the concern in his voice now, "but I'm pretty sure that's a bad idea. I'll stay and talk to you until you're found."

"Must you?" he asks, a desperate edge to his voice. The merman's voice is pleasant enough, yes, but rest is the preferred option here, regardless of what he says.

"Yes," he confirms. Morpheus's eyes are still closed so he can't actually see but he can imagine the smile on his face easily enough.

He sighs heavily and wonders what he did to deserve this. Then figures this is some weird, twisted kind of punishment for all that happened with Orpheus and Calliope and resigns himself to his fate. "Very well."

The merman talks, almost endlessly, until the sun is low in the sky. It is, truly, an impressive amount of talking. Morpheus doesn't remember much of that afternoon. At some point, he regains just enough energy to sit up, to listen more attentively. The merman, whose name he doesn't learn, seems to appreciate that. And just when despair begins to eat at him—I will not be found, he thinks and despite his inaction while he sank into the ocean, the idea panics him, I will die on this beach—there are calls of his name from behind him. They are voices he recognises and his heart picks up its pace when he turns around to see Lucienne, Telute and Jessamy walking down the beach towards him, each of them looking a little rough but all of them alive.

When he turns back to the ocean, the merman is no longer there, and Morpheus wonders if he dreamt the whole thing up. He does not mention it as Jessamy helps him to his feet, as Telute pulls him in for a hug, as the three of them begin to make it back home, to their duties, but he does not forget the kind eyes of the man who saved him from drowning.

#the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling fic #morpheus dream of the endless #the sandman fic #merman!Hob #listen i've written nothing but this for the last three days and I have 5k to show for it #also the larger fic is way way angstier than this snippet would lead you to believe since it deals with a lot of grief around Orpheus #but i thought this little and mostly light(er)-hearted snippet would be fun to share #and YEAH i have many many WIPs and yes i put them aside for this. that's fine #this becomes a Dream Saves Hob Fic eventually #for anyone interested in that #Merman au #eris writes things

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absurdthirst · 1 year

Text

Joel's Children {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Unprotected sex, shower sex, vaginal sex, pregnancy, vomiting, angst, mentions of medical procedures, murder, Joel being ruthless for those he loves.

Comments: One night together in Jackson leads to the discovery that Joel is going to be a father again, right as he lets Ellie back into his heart. Only for that to be threatened when you all meet up with the Fireflies again.

A/N: Remember that ruthlessly sexy scene where Joel plows through the hospital determined to get to Ellie? Thots remember....It's us, we're thots.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s been days, weeks, since you’ve been able to scrub yourself clean. The long walk across the midwest had proved difficult, tiring. Joel’s boots had given out near Cheyenne and it had been lucky that you had found a hardware store that had several rolls of duct tape. Apparently there hadn’t been enough people to loot through all the supplies in Wyoming. Or maybe you had just hit a small patch of luck on an otherwise unlucky journey.

Now in Jackson, you are getting your first taste of civilization again. The steam is already curling up from the shower as you drop the dirty clothes on the ground. You’ll pick them up later, but you want to feel warm, clean. To watch the dirt and dried blood swirl down the drain while you wait to see if Joel will join you like he had promised he would. It wouldn’t be the first time he had pulled away from the attraction between you, but you hope that he comes.

Joel can’t hold back anymore. It’s been a stressful journey to try and get to Wyoming and he’s struggling to reconcile the fact that he has imagined his brother was in danger, possibly dead. He’s been frantic with worry, only to find out that he’s been living it up in a post-apocalyptic paradise with his wife. It kills him inside, knowing that he’s fought hard to make it to his brother, to save him, and he couldn’t communicate that he was safe the entire time. It makes him pent up and that’s what brings him to the shower where he can hear the water running. Stripping off methodically, he steps into the bathroom and moves behind you, your body tensing until he says “it’s me, baby.” You relax and his hands find your waist, pulling you back against him and he rests his head on yours, breathing you in for a moment.

“You came.” Closing your eyes, you shiver, the heat having nothing to do with the way your gooseflesh rises. The weight of his hand and the feeling of him touching you already has you on edge, needy. Joel sighs behind you and slowly you turn in his arms, sliding your hands up his arms to loop around his neck. “Do you want to get clean?” You offer, suddenly shy now that everything you want is right in the little 2x4 section of the shower. “Do you want me to wash you?” You know he’s fighting his emotions, despite trying to hide it. His eyes are more expressive than he would like and you’ve gotten good at reading him.

He can’t say a word so he nods, not wanting to start spilling his guts about how much he fucking loves you and he doesn’t want to lose you. He’s lost too much, too many people. He’d die if he lost you. Ellie is better off without him, she needs to get to Colorado, to find the Fireflies. She doesn’t need him. You do. You’ve always been a little dependent on him and he likes that, feeling wanted and needed despite him not willing to give away his heart. It happened though, it’s yours even if you don’t know it. You grab the body wash and start to clean him off, his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of your hands on his body, washing away the dirt but no one can wash away the sins that stain his skin. “Baby.” He murmurs after you wrap your fingers around his hardening cock, digits soapy and he can’t help the groan that escapes him. “You’re - you don’t - we don’t have to do that.” He tells you, knowing you must be tired.

“I’ve wanted to do this for nearly a thousand miles.” You laugh quietly, sure that it was around Lincoln where you had started falling in love with Joel Miller. Despite his angry and tough facade, you were and will always be grateful for him saving you in Kansas City, deciding to follow them out west when there was nothing left for you in the ruins of the cordyceps getting to the surface. You know he’s lost, you’ve seen it in his eyes and Ellie has spoken to you about a woman named Tess, but you want this, you want him. Slowly pumping his cock, you press your lips to his shoulder and then his collar bone, grazing his chin and finally pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I want you to fuck me, Joel.”

He groans, soft and low, and reaches for you. His hands find your ass to pull you close while his lips press harder against yours. His grunt into your mouth is desperate and you eagerly open to allow his tongue to slide against yours. “Need you.” He confesses, hand sliding around your hip until he caresses the curls at the apex of your thighs, sliding lower until his calloused finger finds your clit.

It’s like a drug, hearing that he needs you. Him touching you. It’s more than you had ever imagined on those nights where you had to slip your hand into your pants in your sleeping bag. Or, Joel’s sleeping bag. Moaning softly, you are happy that you had already washed before he had joined you, wanting this time to be undeterred by the need to clean up. “Joel.” You whimper his name, clinging to him as he presses a finger past your clit and into your cunt.

He loves hearing you whimper and he’s quick to add a second finger, pushing them inside of you and letting his palm push against your clit. “Goddamn. You’re - you’re tight.” He pants, your fingers squeezing his cock and he kisses your face wherever he can reach.

Closing your eyes, your hips rock forward and chase his fingers as he pulls them back. “Haven’t been f-fucked in a long time.” You pant quietly, continuing to pump his cock. “Please, oh god, it would feel so good to have you inside me.”

He nods, grabbing your wrist to pull your hand off of his cock. “Turn around.” He rasps and you follow his order. He presses you against the cold tile, helping you arch your back, and he grips his cock. Positioning himself at your entrance, he pushes inside of you. He’s not rough but he’s not soft either, his need for you making him desperate to have you.

“Joel!” You cry out, cheek pressed up against the wall and you clench down around him. “O-oh god. It’s so good. Fuck.” You whine when he grinds deep, loving how he feels like he’s in your guts.

He can’t stop himself from trying to get as deep as possible. Grinding into you like he’s trying to mold your bodies together. “Fuck baby. You- you feel like heaven.” He sighs, pressing his head against your neck.

Preening at his praise, you push back and groan his name when he reaches up and cups your tits. “Oh shit.” You whine softly. “Fuck me, Joel. I need you to make me cum.” Your hand slides off the tiles and you reach between your thighs to start rubbing your clit.

He groans, not wanting you to be the reason you cum, so he knocks your hand away to replace it with his own. Rubbing your clit in harsh circles and he pushes deep, making your tits push against the cold tile. “So good.” He murmurs into your neck.

Your breathing and the quiet moans are all that can be heard in the small shower. The push of his hips against your ass is absorbed by the smack against the tile and you love how steady his rhythm follows his fingers. “Fuck Joel, fuck.” You pant, closing your eyes and enjoying the ride. You’re guess that he would be good at fucking was proving correct.

He needs you to cum, months of pent up tension between you has him on the edge and he needs you to cum first. “Cum for me baby. Cum for me sweet girl. Right now. You can do it. Just - just cum for me.” He pleads, pushing deep while he rubs your clit like it’s the last damn thing he will ever do.

Shuddering, your head tilts back and rests against his shoulder and you cry out silently. Walls clenching down around him as you soak him in a torrent of cum.

“Fuck.” Joel hisses through gritted teeth, glad that you’ve found your pleasure, and his hands grip your waist, keeping you pinned so he can push into you with a groan. “Fuck baby. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” His words are clipped until he groans out, biting down on your shoulder while his cock pulses inside of you. He knows he shouldn’t have cum but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to consume you, possess you, make you belong to him. He couldn’t have pulled out if he tried and his cum is hot as it paints your walls.

The warmth of his seed fills you and your eyes flutter closed, enjoying the feel of it. “Fuck.” You pant quietly. “I’m going to sleep good tonight.” Sex always helps you sleep and it was an orgasm that wasn’t by your own hand. The ache between your thighs is one that will linger. Turning your head, you kiss his jaw. “Good for you, baby?”

He hums, turning your head so he can properly kiss you. He wants to spend the night in bed with you, savor every second of this time together. “So good. Come on, let’s dry off and get into bed.” He orders, turning off the water and stepping out to find a towel to dry you with. Once you’re both dry, he guides you to the bed and pulls you close, lifting your leg over his hip so he can curl around you. “I can’t say it but I want you to know I mean it.” He murmurs, hoping you know what he means.

****

The next morning, Joel manages to slip out from your arms without waking you, getting dressed and making his way to the stables. He knows you wouldn’t stay here without him and he desperately wants to take you with him but he can’t be selfish. You’ll have a better life here. One he cannot provide and one he has not earned the place to enjoy. He doesn’t fit in here, Maria made that clear and it’s best if he just leaves.

Tommy coming up the stairs wakes you and your eyes flutter open, the small smile on your face disappearing when you find the bed beside you completely empty. “Fuck!” You hiss, jumping up to dress so you can find Joel and give him a piece of your mind.

Joel is saddling up the horse when Tommy and Ellie enter the stables, and you come storming in behind them, overtaking them. He barely turns towards you before your hand comes up to slap his cheek. Combined with the cold air, he hisses and feels his stomach twist at the hurt he sees in your eyes. He can’t say anything, knowing that he’s a bastard who left you in bed without saying goodbye.

“You fucking asshole!” You hiss, not caring about the audience behind you. Joel brought this on himself. “You were just gonna leave? Without even a goodbye or fuck you?” Angry tears pool in your eyes and you want to smack him again, but you don’t. Unbelievably hurt that he would allude to loving you and then slip from the bed like a thief in the night.

He deserves that but he knows you wouldn’t understand his reasoning. “I want you to stay here. I need to go. I- I want to give Ellie a choice.” He looks towards the teenager. “Do you want to go with Tommy or you wanna go with me?” He asks her and she shoves her pack at him, “let’s go.” Joel’s heart thumps and he looks towards you, “you wanna stay?” He asks, stomach twisting as he gives you the choice like he should have done this morning.

“You wanted to give Ellie a choice but didn’t afford me the same damn thing?” You shake your head and scowl at him. “Saddle another fucking horse.” You demand, not willing to stay behind while the two people you care about most leave. “No offense to your brother, Jackson seems lovely.” Your eyes flicker over to the brother and then back to Joel. “But I said I love you and I meant it. I’m going with you.”

Ellie’s eyes widen as she looks between you and Joel, surprised that he finally gave in to those puppy dog eyes he gives you when he thinks no one is looking. Joel nods, biting his lip to suppress the smile that appears on his face. Tommy nods, saddling another horse for you and he slaps his brother on the shoulder. “You’re welcome back here anytime.” Tommy says and Joel nods, helping Ellie up onto the horse before he walks over to you. “I wanted to keep you safe.” He murmurs, knowing it’s pointless now but he had good intentions.

“You have a fucked up way of going about it, Miller.” You huff, shaking your head but you can understand why he thought he was doing what was best. Reaching out, you caress the cheek you had slapped. “We’ll keep each other safe.” You murmur, looking over at Ellie. “All of us.” You care about the feisty girl and you know Joel must be as protective of her as he is.

****

Ellie has been quiet since what happened with David and Joel is concerned. He got up from his death bed to save you both, knowing that you and Ellie were in danger had him pushing through the pain. He has been trying to reconnect with you both since heading to Salt Lake City. “You feelin’ okay?” He asks when you stop yet again to throw up. Flu isn’t really a concern in the new world, there’s no virus that is worse than the one that ended the world but maybe you’ve picked something up.

Groaning, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and stand straight. “Yeah, fuck, I’m -“ you stop, feeling another wave of bile rise but you manage to suppress it. “I don’t know what’s going on.” Your hand presses against your stomach and you sigh as the nausea passes. “I’m okay.” You assure him with a weak smile.

Joel frowns, watching you, and he hands you the rag he has in his jean pocket. “Here, baby.” He says and hands it to you and that’s when you freeze.

“Baby.” You murmur, trying to figure out when you last had your period. Joel tilts his head, watching you freeze and Ellie stands there, jaw dropping as she figures out what’s wrong with you.

“Holy shit, you’re pregnant!” She cries out, her eyes wide and for the first time in forever, a real smile breaks out across her face. Leaping forward to crowd you excitedly. “You have to be, you’re getting sick now, but you don’t have a fever. You guys totally fucked, and that’s how you make babies.” She teases. Your eyes dart over to Joel, trying to figure out how he is going to take the idea of you being pregnant

Joel’s stomach drops as Ellie is the one who puts it all together and he swears his heart is about to pound out of his chest. One time was all it took and you’re pregnant. A veritable death sentence in this new world, and it’s all his fault. “Shit.” He murmurs, blinking several times as he watches you absorb the news. “Are you- do you think-?” Joel stammers, unsure of what to say to you.

You frown, shaking your head. “No- I- I’m just sick.” You insist, not liking the panicked look on Joel’s face. It’s not like you’ve been together since that one time, there’s no privacy for it. One of you staying awake to keep watch at night. You look down at your stomach and shake your head. “No, that can’t be it.”

Joel has accepted that you are, knowing that you haven’t complained about how uncomfortable the me still cup is like Ellie has done since you left Tommy’s. He’s not stupid, he knows you’ve complained about your jeans being a little tighter and you certainly haven’t been indulging when all you have is what he can hunt or find. It kills him inside, hearing he’s gonna be a dad again and all he can do is think of when he found out about Sarah. He was so young then. He was shitting himself but that was with the comforts afforded to him then, things like formula and a crib. What the fuck would become of a child in this world? Would he be able to provide? His breathing gets short and his vision goes blurry as he starts to panic, his chest tightening.

“Joel?” Your eyes widen and you rush over to him. Touching his shoulder as he bends over at the waist. “Joel, it’s okay, I’m not- we can-“ you swallow harshly and you know that any words of comfort will be nothing but platitudes. There’s no reassurance in this world. “Just breathe.”

Ellie walks up on his other side and pats his back awkwardly. “It’ll be alright. You aren’t that old. And she’s younger than you.”

The words sound muffled to Joel as his thoughts come hard and fast, imagining a world with a baby. Then he thinks about you as a mother, how good you’ve been with Ellie, and how you looked at the kids at Tommy’s, the longing in your eyes when you saw a family. He imagines you holding the baby, safe at Tommy’s, a proper home. A second chance. The thought makes his breathing slow and he closes his eyes when you rub his back. “I’m here, baby.” You promise and he stands up straight, dragging you into his chest to hold you, his face in your hair to breathe you in.

“I’m sorry. So fuckin’ sorry, sweet girl. I- I did this and I- we are gonna get back to Tommy’s and you’re gonna be such a good mama.” He promises, cupping your cheeks so he can look into your eyes, silently letting you know that he’s all in.

You weren’t expecting that response and you immediately tear up. Choking out a sob as you try to nod in his hands and lean forward. Needing a hug and reassurance that everything will be okay. You know that this world is rough but you need Joel with you. Maybe this baby can have a life that is close to what used to be, Ellie giving the world a cure.

****

“Ellie!” Joel growls when Ellie lets the ladder clatter to the level above. “Goddamnit.” He growls and reaches for the ladder. “You can’t go up it.” Joel shakes his head at you as you step towards it, five months pregnant. You are showing and Joel spends each night just holding you, rubbing your belly. In awe of the baby growing inside of you.

You wait until Joel is up the ladder and chasing after Ellie, shouting her name before you slowly start to climb the ladder. Not willing to stay below if there is some kind of issue or danger. You don’t think there is, not with the way that Ellie had sounded right before she had taken off. Slowly making your way up, you groan when you manage to pull yourself up and start following after them. “Joel? Ellie?”

Joel looks at the giraffe, in awe of the gentle beast, and he looks around when you call his name, eyes wide. Joel holds his hand out towards you, unable to reprimand you for coming up the ladder when this was the view. “Come here.” Joel grabs a branch and hands it to Ellie before he hands another one to you.

“Oh my god.” You breathe out in wonder as Ellie steps forward with the leaves. You watch as the giraffe takes the offered food and the girl giggles. “Hey there.” Joel watches, a soft smile on his face as you step up beside Ellie to hand her the leaves. She’s enjoying herself and you won’t take that away from her, not when she’s been so locked inside her own head after the run in with David. “So fucking cool.” Both you and Joel look at each other, your love for the girl evident and you know that you want to go back to Jackson, make your little family safe, you, Joel, Ellie and the baby.

After admiring the giraffe, Joel helps you down and you’re moving through the city when Ellie mentions his scar. “I, uh, it was me. I’m the guy who missed.” He reveals, knowing he’s never spoken to you about this. This was his secret, the shame he carried since he failed. He was barely living after they stitched him back up. Physically he was recovering, emotionally, he was never the same. Until he met you and Ellie.

Your hand covers your stomach protectively, knowing that if he had succeeded, your baby wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be here, you would have died in Kansas City. Sighing softly, all you can do is watch as he takes the rifle off his shoulder and leans against an old concrete barrier, obviously wanting to get it off his chest. “There’s no story.” He tells you as Ellie sits beside him, you on his other side. “Sarah died and I couldn’t see the point anymore. Simple as that. And I wasn’t scared either. I was ready.” He looks off, not making eye contact with either of you and you know he’s reliving the past. “I couldn’t have been more ready. When I-“ he pauses, ducking his head down and looking back up. “When I….” He gestures towards his head with his fingers pointed like a gun and your heart breaks, imaging the pain he had been in. “-went to pull the trigger, I-I flinched.” He looks slightly shocked that he had. “Still don’t know why.” Tears slip down your face and you want to tell him that you know why he flinched, he wasn’t done living yet.

“Well I'm glad you didn’t do…that.” Ellie offers Joel with a small smile and Joel nods, “me too.” He sighs and looks over at you, his eyes dropping down to your stomach. Ellie bites her lip, “I guess time heals all wounds.”

Joel shakes his head, his eyes meeting hers, “it wasn’t time that did it.” His eyes are watery and your heart breaks.

Reaching out, you brush his hair back and lean in, pressing your lips to his scar softly before you pull away. “I’m glad that you did heal.” You murmur softly.

Joel reaches for your hand, squeezing it, and he lets his face say what his mouth cannot. Knowing you’ll know what he means. “Come on.” He pats his knees and stands up, taking your hand to help you stand. “You know what I’m in the mood for? Some shitty puns.” He says and squeezes your hand as he looks at Ellie who is eagerly pulling the book from her backpack.

You watch as she opens the book and starts the read. “People are making jokes about the apocalypse like there’s no tomorrow.” Joel frowns slightly and Ellie grins. “Too soon?” She asks and he shakes his head, “no, it’s topical.”

She laughs, “oh I love this one.” She bends down and then pops back up. “Moon rocks taste better than Earth rocks. Why?” Joel doesn’t answer but he scratches his head. “‘Cause their meteor.” You groan alongside Joel. “Oh that’s terrible.”

“Zero out of ten.” Joel snorts, bringing your hand up to swing it between you. That’s when the grenade is thrown and Ellie shouts “Joel!” He spins, pushing you behind him to protect you and you’re both thrown back by the explosion. Joel shouts your name through the smoke and he’s trying to protect you and Ellie when the gun comes down on the back of his head and it all goes dark.

****

Groaning, you open your eyes slowly, lids fluttering and you wince at the pain in the back of your skull. “Easy.” Turning, you see a woman, darker skin with a sharp gaze about her. Eyeing you intensely and she seems relieved that you are awake.

“Where-“ you croak, “Joel? Ellie.”

Marlene steps forward, holding a glass of water for you. “They’re fine. Ellie is being prepped for surgery and Joel is with her. My name is Marlene. I - Joel wanted me to be here when you woke up.” She says, offering you the cup of water after you sit up. Her eyes drop down to your bump and back to your face. “How- how far along are you?” She asks, stepping back once you have the glass of water.

“Around five months.” You take a sip of the water, relieved at the cool liquid as it goes down your throat. You wish that Joel was here, but being with Ellie is his priority. Just like she needs to be right now. You look back at Marlene. “It’s Joel’s.” You offer quietly, rubbing your stomach. “The baby.”

Marlene’s eyes widen slightly, having known that Joel did not like making connections and that’s possibly the biggest connection two humans could have. “Congratulations.” Marlene says, “I’ll go find Joel but in the meantime, I have a nurse who’s going to take some blood and she has vitamins to give you that you can take.” Marlene offers and you nod, grateful for the care. “I’ll go see how Ellie and Joel are getting along.” Marlene says and walks out of the room.

“Do you think she will work?” Jackie, the nurse asks once she follows Marlene out of the room.

“She’s our back up plan.” Marlene confirms and makes her way to Joel’s room. He wakes up just as she arrives and he winces as he tries to sit up.

“Welcome to the fireflies.” Marlene tells him, making him quickly roll over. “Easy. Ya got hit pretty hard.” Her hands are folded over her stomach and she smirks. “Patrol didn’t know who you were.”

Joel groans quietly and looks over at her. “Where’s Ellie?”

Marlene answers quickly. “She wasn’t hurt. Not even a scratch.” She sounds impressed, she is impressed. “She’s mostly worried about you.”

His head is throbbing and he sits up on the gurney. “Where is she?” He says your name, worried that he can’t see you either.

“We lost half our crew crossing the country. I had five men whose only job was to protect me. I still almost got killed. How’d you do it? With a pregnant woman too?” Marlene snorts and Joel grips the side of the bed, shaking his head.

“It was all her.” He says truthfully, knowing he couldn’t have made it without you. “Ellie fought like hell to get here.”

Marlene shakes her head, “she would’ve been dead on day one. You are the one person I never wanted to be in debt to. But I owe you. We all owe you.”

Joel shakes his head, “just take me to them. I need to see them.”

Marlene stares at him for a moment, “I can’t. Ellie’s being prepped for surgery and-” She says your name, “she’s having her blood drawn for testing for the baby.”

Joel frowns, “what surgery?”

Marlene bites her lip, “our doctor, he thinks that the Cordyceps in Ellie has grown with her since birth-” Joel interrupts her, “why is she in surgery?”

Marlene continues, “it produces a kind of chemical messenger. It makes normal Cordyceps thinks that she’s Cordyceps. It’s why she’s immune. He’s gonna remove it from her, multiply the cells in a lab, produce those chemical messengers, and then we can give it to everyone. He thinks it could be a cure, Joel. We think that it happened when her mother was bitten while Ellie was still attached to her umbilical cord. We - we want to see if it’s possible that we could recreate that in case-”

Joel cuts her off, his jaw clenched, “in case what?” He is hearing that they want you to be bit after you give birth to his child.

“A cure.” Marlene reminds him but he shakes his head, “Cordyceps grow inside the brain.”

Marlene nods, “it does.”

Joel shakes his head, “find someone else. Find anyone else. Not Ellie. Not the mother of my child.” He growls.

“There is no one else. We didn’t tell them. We didn’t cause them any fear. Your child will be safe. We will make sure the mother is well looked after until she gives birth.”

Joel shakes his head and stands up, “no. No, you take me to her. You take me to her right now!” He yells, desperate to see you, to save you and Ellie from this nightmare. The guard hits him in the stomach with the butt of his rifle and Joel falls down with a grunt.

“Please, you don’t understand.” Joel tries to reason with Marlene but she’s unsympathetic.

“I do. I was there when she was born, Joel. I promised her mother I would save her child. I promised.” She pauses. “So I do understand. I’m the only one who understands. I’m sorry. I have no other choice.” She wants this to be over, for the world to go back to what it was and Ellie, and your baby might be the cure. She will sacrifice anyone for a cure.

Joel looks up at her from the ground, worry and panic swirling in his gut. “I do.” He assures her, making Marlene realize she can’t leave Joel alive.

She nods and speaks to the guards, “walk him out to the Highway, leave him there with his pack.” Her guards will know that she means for them to take him out of hearing range of the pediatric ward where you are being held and put a bullet in his brain. “Give him these.” She hands off the knife Ellie carried along with the necklace you wore and looks back at Joel. “If he tries anything, shoot him.”

Joel's heart pounds in his chest as he is led down the hall, his mind racing as he tries to figure out how he can save you and Ellie. His heart races and he imagines leaving you and his child, Ellie, here with the fireflies. He swallows harshly, stumbling and trying to slow down. "I didn't hear anyone say stop." The guard says when Joel looks at the sign, "which way?" He is pushed towards the stairwell and Joel imagines not being there for his children. He can't fail them. He can't fail you.

"The fuck are you doin'? Keep walking." The firefly orders and Joel snaps, unable to let you and Ellie be the burden of this so-called cure. He can't lose anyone else. "I said keep-" Joel spins, elbowing the prick and grabbing his gun, making quick work of shooting them and he grabs the knife and necklace, determined to save his girls.

“Hello?” It’s been a long time since you’ve had a bed and the hospital gurney is actually comfortable. One of the ones obviously used in the labor and delivery ward and for a moment, you imagine actually being in a hospital for the birth. The nurse had told you that she would be right back, going to get Joel and you are starting to worry. There’s muffled sounds from the floors below, and you can’t quite make it out but it’s making you uneasy. “Anyone there?”

Joel is ferocious in his efforts to get to you and Ellie. He knows he has to get to Ellie first, stop the surgery, and he shoots down anyone that gets in his way. When he enters the operating room, he quickly shoots the doctor and the nurses scream, “unhook her. Move!” He demands and the nurses hands shake. “Cover her arm. Fast.” The nurse nods and covers her arm. “Turn around.” He demands and he carries her in his arms as he shouts your name, needing to find you.

“Joel?” You hold your stomach as you heft your weight off the gurney, hearing Joel scream your name. He sounds panicked, like he does when he’s lost sight of you or Ellie when there is danger nearby. That’s never a good sound to hear from Joel. “Joel! I’m here.” You shout back, slipping into your shoes so you can walk to the door of the room you are in.

He hears your voice and he’s relieved, eyes softening when he sees you, but yours widen when you see him carrying Ellie. “What -?”

Joel shakes his head, “no time. We gotta go. Come on baby. Let’s go.” He demands and leads you towards the elevator.

You’ve learned that when Joel demands you move, you move. You don’t ask him again, instead you are right behind him, wondering what the hell is going on. You know how important this mission was to Ellie, to be able to ‘save the world’. So for Joel to be carrying her around in a surgical gown makes you wonder if the hospital is under attack.

“What happened?” You ask and Joel can’t speak yet, too overwhelmed and relieved that you’re alive. That Ellie is okay. He looks at Ellie, knowing he’s messed up her plans for his own selfish desires but he couldn’t let her die for this. He sees the car and rushes forward until he hears Marlene.

“You can’t keep them safe forever.” She says, aiming her gun towards him and he jerks his chin for you to get behind him. “No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people you kill, she’s gonna grow up Joel. And then you’ll die, she’ll leave. Your kid will be left without a father. Then what? How long until your kids are torn apart by infected or murdered by raiders? Because they live in a broken world that you could have saved.”

Joel stares at her, “maybe but it isn’t for you to decide.”

Marlene shakes her head, “or you. Your children had the chance to save the world. If Ellie died…we had the baby. A chance to try again.” Marlene says and you gasp, hand lowering to your stomach, unsure of what she means but you know it’s bad. “So what would Ellie decide? ‘Cause I think she’d wanna do what’s right.” Joel stares at the floor, unable to process this when Marlene says “and you know it. It’s not too late. Even now, even after what you’ve done. We have a second chance.” She looks towards you, “we can still find a way.” Joel looks down at Ellie before his eyes meet yours, knowing he couldn’t give this up. It’s his children. He couldn’t save Sarah but he can save Ellie, save you and his unborn child.

You watch Joel as he battles himself, looking down at Ellie and then over at you. You shake your head, knowing that anything that would lead to Ellie dying is not a choice you want to pick. His jaw ticks and he looks back at Marlene. Making you cry out in surprise when he pulls the trigger of the gun that he is holding under Ellie’s legs. “Get in the car.” Joel urges you as he turns and rushes towards the vehicle.

Marlene groans as she curls into herself and he lays Ellie down on the backseat. He strides back over to Marlene, pulling his gun out, and he aims it at her, “you’ll just come after her.” He says and shots her in the head.

Swallowing harshly, you look back at Ellie laying across the seats. Whatever happened was bad. Joel connects the battery and slams the hood of the car shut, making you jump in surprise before he climbs behind the wheel and turns the key. “What happened?” You ask quietly, needing to know what is happening. From what you understood, Marlene was important to Ellie and it was her that had tasted Joel with bringing Joel here.

Joel shakes his head, not able to talk about it just yet. He wants to get you out of here so he starts the car and makes his way out of the parking garage, eyes scanning for any more fireflies and he’s on edge. When he’s out on the highway and he reaches for your hand, lifting it to press a kiss to it. “Baby. Oh fuck. I- I thought I was gonna lose you all.”

You hear the way his voice shakes and you squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t lose us.” You promise him, even though you have no idea what was actually happening in that hospital. Craning your neck, you look back at Ellie, “we need to find her some clothes. For when she wakes up.”

He nods, tears stinging in his eyes, “baby. She - she told me - Ellie’s mom was bitten before she was born. It’s why Ellie is immune and they - they wanted to take Ellie’s brain out to find a cure and if that failed, they were gonna use you - they wanted to use our baby as a second chance.” He chokes, a tear sliding down his cheek as he imagines being unable to help Ellie and you.

“Shit.” You hiss, furious that they had been so cruel. You would have never consented to hurting your child or allowing Ellie to be killed in hopes of a cure. “Then I’m glad you shot her.” You snort. “A bullet is too good for her. That’s unethical.”

Joel squeezes your hand, “and you would’ve been killed. I- fuck- I love you. I love you, baby.” He confesses for the first time, squeezing the steering wheel with his other hand as he makes his way to Tommy’s in hope of having a life with his family.

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller thots

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yestrday · 8 months

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What if academy!darling is an opportunist and see the best in her situation. Like a harem of rich, pretty boys that are obssesed and will pretty much do everything for you? The world is in your hand. That thing you wanted so bad but didn't have the money? Now is yours. That food you aways wanted to try but didn't know how to cook or where to find? Also yours. That person that was bothering you? Gone.

oh dear, ohhh dear. what a dangerous line of thought to have. sure, there are suitors who will absolutely give you the best and expect nothing in return (aether, bennett, razor, thoma, etc) but for the most part? you're playing a verrryyy dangerous game darling.

it gives you sort of high, kinda, knowing how many men are at your beck and call because they claim to... love you? love's not a foreign concept to you, but had been wholly unnecessary in your lifelong drive to be the number one in everything you do. still, if love did make you bentos every week or so, give you free rides on limos, protect you from unsavory people... then you wonder why you hadn't hopped on that train long ago.

"thank you," you smile at the suitor of the hour, holding onto half of the stack of papers you were to carry to the faculty. smile just very slightly, tilt your head, look in their eyes but not too much, bat your lashes. "you're very sweet." high-pitched, but not too nasally.

they blush under your sweet gaze, not noticing how the sides of your lips slightly falter when they avert their gaze. hm, your muscles must be taut from all this forced smiling. better massage them at night.

then there's another one later, who looks at you with a mocking smile and provokes you at every sentence. your fists are itching to send him straight to the ground, let out all your anger and frustration at the world and its fucking stupidity and unfairness, but you don't. no matter how much you want to, you only bite your tongue till tears well up in your eyes and you start to sniffle.

they like it, fucking bastard. you thought they loved you? but apparently love must be different from what you've seen, because their eyes lap up every tear with a hunger only a ravenous predator knows. but you grit your teeth and bear it, because a week ago you've seen this man walk out of an alley with blood on his hands and a souvenier from a bully of yours. this is your reward for them.

there's more of them, popping up like flies everywhere you go. you know for a fact that this isn't normal. exactly what about you is drawing these men in? but no matter how much of your time they consume, no matter how many times you had to bow your head to avoid pissing these rich people off, you'll be fine. they give, they steal, they maim... all for the sake of your heart. were you someone of their standing, perhaps you'd call them out. but you want things you've never dreamed of, need protection in a corrupt world. you need them.

sooner or later, once you have the lifestyle you've dreamed off, with a seven-fuckin'-digit salary and a mansion in hawaii, you'll kiss these fuckers goodbye.

hehe, a cute thought, but it's just that. merely daydreams of a commoner who got too greedy for their own good.

did you really think you could get away with playing a dozen or so men? with connections everywhere in the world? for someone so smart, you were so, so adorably stupid. but that's okay. it's cute when you think you're in power.

they're all watching in the shadows, eyes on your back no matter where you go. tensions are rising, and it's only a matter of time before the first one strikes.

#genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #yester.shorts #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yester.writes #yester.au — academy 📓

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reads4hotch · 1 year

Text

little crush

aaron hotchner × fem!BAU!reader

summary: you're tired of your boss, and best friend, not making a move on you no matter how much he wants to, so one night you decide to take matters into your own hands.

warnings: dirty talk, kinda smutty, alcohol consumption, heavy make out, reader is going commando, pls tell me if i'm missing something

note: i was telling @ihavemanyhusbands about having ✨dirty thoughts✨ about hotch during my class and i promised to share my ideas w her. and while editing my doc i ended up with this piece. the first piece i managed to fully write and finish since my writer's block started 2 years ago and i couldn't be happier (or more nervous) about it. also hi @beelmons this is it🙈 i love you guys too fucking much pls, ty for everything🥺💖

note 2: also, this started as one of the chapters for the series i'm writing of bau!bestfriend!reader w Hotch where they would have sex for the first time, buuuuut since i ended up discarding this idea, i thought i could share this piece with you. hope u enjoy!💖

two days into a case with almost no leads, aaron felt the stress consuming him. and apparently it was too obvious for everyone. the first thing coming out of your lips when you entered his hotel room in the middle of the night, fully aware that he was still awake, had been an:

“damn Hotchner, the stress is really ‘bout to eat you alive, huh?” you said teasingly.

this wasn’t rare. you were comfortable around him and he was comfortable around you. you two were friends, good friends actually, and had been for a while now. there was no one in the world he trusted more than you, and moments so casual yet so intimate like this were very common between you.

which made him hate even more the tension he felt. you were just keeping him company, having a conversation to try and relax a little from the hard day you two had.

and there he was, fighting every cell on his body to not look at you for too long, to not let his mind wander with images of you towards dangerous territory…

you were giving him such a hard time ever since you walked through his door only wearing a tiny and very delicate silk nightgown and nothing else... not even something underneath it. a detail he had discover while you were walking around the nightstand, the lamp on it illuminating your silhouette so intensely that the thin fabric of your dress became slightly see through. truly, your lack of panties was not that visible, in fact, he probably wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t because he was paying too much attention. his eyes had been fixed on you, completely entranced, as you talked on the phone with Morgan over some details of the current case. it felt impossible for him to look away from your figure and he indulged himself for a moment as you were too distracted on the conversation to pay attention to him. or so he thought.

you were now sitting on the border of the small desk in the hotel room, aaron sitting on a chair in front of you, a glass of whiskey in hand and his mind fully fixating on the image of your exposed thighs, since your already short dress had rolled up from the position you were in, barely covering you in the right parts. he cursed himself, feeling awful for objectifying you like this. it was only a stupid, little, simple dress -that made you look hot as hell- and he was losing his head over it.

“now,” your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “i have a very special question for you…”, you said placing your glass of water next to you in the desk.

“shoot”, he answered playfully before taking another sip of his drink. he knew you were down for no good as the mischievous smile appeared on your face.

“how many times have you cum all over your hands while thinking of me?”

he choked on his drink and started coughing. he could hear you chuckling at his reaction.

“YN, no, i-…”

“don’t even try.”

he stared at you for a moment, how could you possibly knew? he was sure he was being cautious, he forced himself to look away from you all the time, he fought so hard against all his urges and desires so no one could learn about them, specially you. but with the confidence that radiated from you he could tell you knew everything, and you have for a while. this wasn’t news to you.

he did his best to fake some confidence, he had to in order to play your game.

“you’re being quite bold” his voice was full of arrogance, taking another sip of his drink before speaking again, “considering the fact that you don’t even know if i like you,” he tried to act -and look- calm, the exact opposite of how he was truly feeling.

“darling, you're not as subtle as you think you are”, the petname fell from your lips like a sweet curse. you had him at the palm of your hands and you knew that… how he had lost his mind the second he saw you for the first time, how crazy for you he was since that day… “i mean, you’re so hard to read, not even an entire team of experts profilers, hell, i bet not even Rossi knows about this little crush of yours”

it wasn’t a little crush and you knew that too. that’s why you were in full control here.

“and yet you saw through me…”, he wanted to believe his disinterest was credible… but he was truly a fool when it came to you.

“i always see through you, darling”, you were outright mocking him, full on using the power you had on him. “c’mon, i learned how to read people’s emotions since i was a little kid. you can surely trick the best agents of the FBI sir, but not me”.

he knew that, from the very beginning. that was probably one of the main reasons why you two became friends so easily. he could pretend perfectly well with the rest of the world, but not with you. if anyone knew how to play pretend it was you, too many times he had witness your acting skills while working a case, the whole team had agreed from the beginning that you could easily go for an acting career if you wanted to and become very successful at it. and if you were capable of faking perfectly, you were capable of knowing when someone else was faking as well. which is why he now felt stupid for even daring to think he could hide his feelings from you.

“mmm, i’m sorry sweetie, but i couldn’t keep waiting for you to find the courage to do something about this anymore…”, you touch the tip of his nose gently with a small bop! he took in a sharp breath, trying to clear his mind to do something.

“YN, YN, this isn’t right. that’s why i did nothing about it. do you know how much this could jeopardize your career? what everyone will say if they find out that you and me… your boss… that we…” but once again, your laugh interrupted him.

“that can only happen if they find out”, the smirk never left your face, leaning towards him to talk in a more intimate way, “so tell me, aaron hotchner, are you good at keeping secrets?” the teasing in your voice, the way your face was so close to him he could admire perfectly every little detail of your features…, how was he supposed to act rationally and not give in to his desires when you looked so fucking beautiful?

“cat ate your tongue?” you chuckled, leaning back to your old position, pulling him out of his trance, “c’mon Hotchner, you didn’t answer my first question”

what was he to do now? he was doomed. there was not scaping this anymore. and to be honest he was beginning to question why did he do it in the first place. the memories of those long nights he pleasured himself at the thought of you came rushing in on his mind… fuck it.

he swallowed the knot that was forming on his throat, “too many to count”, he whispered, completely unable to look at you.

“mm, sorry, i couldn’t hear you, what?” you mocked him.

“too many to count” he finally let out looking up just to catch your very much amused expression, “i’ve had thought about you in… not very appropriate ways… too many times to count”.

your malicious smile only grew wider at his confession.

“would you like to show me what you’ve thought about?”, you said in a sweet and innocent tone, leaning towards him and placing your hands on his chest, looking at him through your lashes.

“are you sure you want this?” he put his hands on top of yours, pressing them gently against him.

instead of replying you leaned forwards again, your face was so close to his he could feel your breath on his skin, you tilted your head slightly so your nose could caressed up his jawline delicately until your lips reached the level of his ear, almost touching it, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Oh, he was doomed.

you felt him tense as you whispered: “are you sure you don’t want to bury your cock inside me?”.

suddenly it became hard to breath, words and oxygen stuck inside him as a raging desire traveled through his body, making it impossible for him to hold back the loud groan that came out of his mouth.

he straightened himself on his sit, then left his drink next to yours on the desk, “talk to your boss with more respect”, the usual commanding tone he used at work made its appearance, he was clearly trying to take back some of the control.

“is that what you want from me sir? to respect you?”, you inclined your head slightly, the purest most innocent look in your eyes, although the look on his face told you he didn’t buy your little act at all.

“yes”, his intense gaze burning into your skin.

“then i’d be more than happy to do anything you want me to, sir, out of respect, obviously”.

you gave in. closing the little distance left between you and capturing aaron’s lips in a passionate kiss. you felt his hands on your waist first, traveling south to grab your thighs, pulling them gently. you understood the message, moving to straddle him, feeling how his firm strong legs gave support to your body as you adjust yourself on top of him.

breathlessly the two of you pulled away breaking the kiss, but not even seconds later his hands grabbed your face to pull you into another kiss. he was desperate and it showed. but honestly? so were you.

with the new position you couldn’t help moving your hips against his, rubbing your bare cunt against the growing bulge inside his pants, pleasure growing inside you with every move.

“such a fucking tease”, he said as your mouth moved to his cheek and then to his neck, placing gentle kisses all over him, “what shall i do with you?” his grip on your hips tightened, keeping you still. you moaned at the pressure on your bare clit against the soaked fabric of his pants.

“anything you want, sir”, you stop your attention on his neck to look at him, and he couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you biting your lower lip expectantly, your hands wandering all over his chest.

“how?”, he guided your hips, pressing you harder against his crotch, a moan scaping your lips from the pleasure it created, “like a good girl or like a slut?” it was his time to tease you now, guiding you again to keep grinding on him. you threw your head back at the pleasure, exposing your neck to him. he couldn’t wait to leave marks all over it.

“trust me sir, for you, i could be anything”, you answered almost breathlessly, your movements becoming more eager by the second, “because i love being a good girl”, you looked at him again with that pure, innocent face of yours before rotating your hips on him, making him moan.

“good girls don’t dress like whores for their boss to see”, the small smack of his massive hand on your ass made you moan louder than before.

“can you blame me? i can’t help to be a slut for you”, your hands traveled to his hands, guiding them to your hips, where the edge of your nightgown stood, “but if you don’t like it, we can take it off…”, you looked to him through your lashes once again, knowing perfectly well the effect it had on him, guiding his hands to pull up your dress at a painfully slow pace.

“no”, he stop your movements, “not until i’ve fucked the shit out of you in it”.

“mm yes sir, please, please do it”, rubbing yourself against him with a new-founded intensity.

“you want me to fuck you?” his hands started to wander dangerously around your waist and up your body.

“oh...-oh! yes sir, please, pleaseee” he was making you desperate, desperate for his touch, desperate for more.

“where?” he chuckled at your pitiful sounds as he finally grabbed your breasts with harshness, pinching and twisting both of your nipples.

“anywhere! i’m entirely yours... fuck, wow!” you were almost screaming and he knew he could come just from seeing you fall apart from his touch.

“first, you’re going to be a good slut and suck me off,” he stopped your moves and laugh at the groan you let out in protest at the interrupted pleasure, “are we clear?” the firmness in his voice sent shivers down your spine.

“yes sir,” you couldn’t help but pout at him, his hands keeping you in your place, unable to move. one of his hands left your waist to softle caress your cheek.

“can i come in your mouth?” this time his voice was softer.

“yes sir,” aaron was impressed at the effect you took on him, one look at you and he was a goner. and now the idea of what he was about to do was painfully pleasant, “but, only on one condition” you interrupted his train of thoughts, your hands fiddling with the first button of his shirt,.

“what is it?” anything. for you, he would do anything.

but he certainly wasn’t ready to hear your request.

“that you pretty please come inside me later” you said in the sweetest tone he had ever heard. he could hardly swallow and you had to fight the urge not to smile triumphantly at the shock on his face.

“are you sure?” he asked nervously. god, you were the end of him.

“yes sir, very”

“you shouldn’t have told me that”

“why, sir?”

“because now i’m going to make sure all of your holes are always full, how does that sound?” now it was his time to mock you as you loudly moaned at his proposal.

“oh! sounds perfect sir, please” you desperately tried to free yourself from his control to grind yourself against him again.

“you truly are the biggest cumslut i’ve ever met, i haven’t even fuck you yet and you already want to dry me entirely”, he chuckled at your poor attempts to get some pleasure.

“for you only, sir”, you started blinking fast, a look on seduction of your face. he smiled knowingly. you were trying to coerce him into letting you move again.

“i can’t wait to have my seed flooding out of you”, he said caressing your face with one of his hands, his thumb ghosting over your lips.

“mmm, sir, please, stop teasing”, you pouted after you tried to capture his thumb with your lips and he quickly put it away.

“fuck, you really want that, do you?” he truly was surprise at how you seemed to go feral with the idea of him filling you with his cum. and god was he happy to fulfill that wish of yours.

“yes sir, please, i want nothing more”, you pleaded.

“prove it then, on your knees”.

#baur #smut #cass writes #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner

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cinnamonest · 1 year

Note

Male Majority AU brainrot has consumed me once again. Also cucking because we love it. Dropping this blurb here for no special reason, hoping you like it nonetheless hehe

Alhaitham is quite surprised when he finds out Kaveh got himself a girl. It was apparently, after his graduation right as the popularity of the architect spiked up. Before said architect fell into crippling debts as well. Only someone as brash as Kaveh wouldn’t see it coming, wouldn’t be prepared for that outcome. So it’s not as surprising to Alhaitham when his senpai beg him to house him and his girl. He accepts, though not without a price of course.

You see, Alhaitham has never paid much attention to the other sex before. Of course he has seen women, the Grand Sage, the Darshans, anyone of power has one always stuck to their side. Those higher-ups loves to brag, and frustrate Akademiya students even more since it’s practically impossible for anyone who hasn’t graduated to get a woman for themselves (and even then, it depends on how successful you are— beside, it’s difficult taking care of a being so delicate when you never have free time). But now that you’re here, living with him, he realises what he’s been missing.

You’re a bit shy, always worry about not bothering him, and you stiffen when he addresses you. You’re still adamant about showing how thankful you are for this housing arrangement though. While he’s working or reading at home, you always bring him water and snacks now and then. Always call him ‘sir Alhaitham’ or ‘master Alhaitham’. You try your best to greet him when he comes home, to compliment him, ‘W-well done at work today’ and it makes him laugh because you obviously have no idea what his job is. He acknowledges your efforts, but small things like you— they’ll never reach even an average man’s intelligence (you seem aware of that at the very least.).

He feels a bit bad for you too, your owner can’t see past his own nose. Kaveh does his best taking care of you, cuddling you, bringing you gifts, even ask your opinion on some of his architectural projects but he never tries to listen to you, does he? Anytime he finds you two interacting, the architect runs in-between screeching ‘Don’t speak to my darling you lunatic, you’ll corrupt my beloved! Are you alright sweetheart, he didn’t touch did he ?’. Such reaction only makes Alhaitham want to try to get closer to you more and more, see how far he can get away with things.

So he does, small touches here and there that ends up in cuddling sessions, bringing you some gifts now and then. ‘I need your presence at the Akademiya, please put this on and stick close to me.’ You’re unsure about putting the collar with a clear Alhaitham’s…. Yet you’re aware you don’t have a say in this, only following his order. You won’t do anything the whole day beside being arm candy, But what can Kaveh do about it, under the threat of removing him from the house? It teaches him a lesson as well— who is dumb enough to end up almost homeless while owning a girl? He truly doesn’t realise the danger he put you through there.

Perhaps Alhaitham should look into putting you into shared ownership. Stealing a girl is illegal of course, but cases of women who got a second owner because the first one fell under tough times aren’t unheard of. He’s getting tired of waiting, he’s been looking forward to bedding you for a while now.

AHHHHH I love this, Kaveh WOULD make a horrible financial decision like that lmao. Even in general it would be so awful, Alhaitham would absolutely be that third wheel that gets constantly inconvenienced because the other is constantly making adjustments and doing things without asking first lmao

Also since there's no like canonical heights to my knowledge, there's one part mentioning reader being comparatively shorter than them

----

To be fair, it's an act of benevolence to begin with. This unjust world is a constant weight on Kaveh's heart and mind, he's one of the most unfortunate people to have to exist in this universe, given he's such a bleeding heart. They have those charities and such that are supposed to advocate for better conditions and humane practices for the poor girls, and he's emptied his pockets for those more than once.

But buying one was not a selfish act, no. It may just be one, sure, and there are still plenty more suffering out there, but at least he can sleep well at night knowing he has made a difference, even if it's just in one person's life. After all, it was so pitiful and heart-wrenching, passing by those markets in town all the time and seeing them put in cages and look so miserable, he HAD to get one. It weighed on his soul, you know?

Such is how he justifies it, when questioned on it. He's doing a good thing. He's very happy about it initially, too.

Granted, it's not particularly normal for someone of his current economic status to make this decision, even pre-debt, it's not like he's super filthy rich or anything. He may or may not have taken out a loan... but no big deal... right...?

It's also true that neither of them have had any real opportunities to interact with the opposite sex — the Akademiya, of course, has no female students. Well, except for the fact that there's actually been a few cases of some particularly brazen, stupid girls being caught managing to disguise themselves for some time in attempts to get educational certification (presumably try to maintain the act long enough to become self-sufficient), but of course it never lasts long and is swiftly dealt with, given that students are incentivized by the policy that if someone discovers and rats a girl out to the institution, that person will get to keep her. But regardless, neither of them ever encountered such a thing.

Poor Kaveh is rather awkward at first, but he openly acknowledges that -- that is, he's more just awkward rather than shy, has no trouble being up-front and transparent about never having spoken directly to or been so close to a female before. He's pretty confident in his capability to be a good owner, though, he's done a lot of research and knows how to be sensitive and careful.

It's a fascinating experience, though. He's very touchy, and not even in a sexual way, often just reaching out to brush his hands over your skin, almost in a sort of awe. He realizes that for whatever reason, he had more or less subconsciously thought of them to be like inorganic objects, perhaps in part due to having spent almost more occasions seeing them portrayed in statues in architecture courses than in real life (which is very common -- no matter what nation you look at, one learns that in the anthropological sense of things, females are constantly made the subject of art, music, marblework, poetry, and virtually every other aspect of culture, often by men who have very little experience with real-life ones beyond their own mothers and the occasional few hours with prostitutes).

So it almost feels surprising to be reminded that you are made of flesh and blood, and thereby are, in fact, soft and warm and fleshy. It's an exhilarating feeling, holding onto you, even just the slightest touches and wrapping arms around you gives him a sort of natural chemical high, a buzz that's nearly overwhelming. Which, sure, he's heard described before, and has even read about quite extensively in anatomy and biology in the first years of general education, but experiencing it for oneself is totally different, and far more intense of a feeling than he had imagined.

He's really one of the best possible owners you could get, though. Very caring and doting, often to a point that it's suffocating.

And, of course, protective... which becomes an odd dynamic when he's forced to seek alternative living situations and you end up living with Alhaitham, seeing as most protective people probably would not be comfortable with a living situation in which one is living with another guy all the while.

Well, he is uncomfortable, but he doesn't have much of a choice. When his finances go plummeting, he knows who to reach out to... and while Alhaitham knows full well he'll give in and take you two in, there is some hesitation when he thinks about it. It could invite trouble, if someone sees you walking around the house and all... he'll just have to be careful.

Thankfully, Kaveh's still only paying rent for one person. Alhaitham did think about increasing it to something reasonable for two people, but... well, you're not really a "person," so to speak. When it comes to public transportation fees, usually females are considered a carry-on object, like a dog or a large suitcase, and only add an extra fee, which is less than the boarding cost for a person. So, out of generosity, he just leaves it as is.

Alhaitham soon comes to realize, however, that the decision to take you both in has some unforeseen consequences, namely being nagged and hounded about every little thing he does.

He's constantly getting chastised — they're fragile, you know, need ideal conditions. Yes, there needs to be a fire because your kind are very temperature sensitive (shouldn't he know that? Did he not pay any attention in biology??), yes he needs to buy (read: Alhaitham needs to buy) silk sheets because your skin is more fragile, yes they need to start buying (once more, read: Alhaitham needs to start buying) higher quality food for you because your it is critical that you get certain nutrients and vitamins or it will throw off your hormones and biles and all that and make you sick.

It's... irksome. He acts like every little issue that arises is the end of the world, exaggerates any harm that may come to you. And, of course, Kaveh tends to blame him for every negative thing. You get sick for a day and he claims it's because the house is too cold or too dusty, you tripped and fell and got carpet burn and it turned into a five minute lecture on how Alhaitham must have been the one to have mistakenly bunched up the edge of the rug and how he needs to be more careful, having a more fragile creature living here now. You knock something off the top of a cabinet (where they both tend to keep some foodstuffs), trying to reach it and it falls on your head, and soon Alhaitham finds his entire cabinets rearranged, optimized for your reach, and with the snacks you like placed in front of the other stuff.

Not to mention, of course, it's very awkward when he has to listen to you two go at it.

Kaveh's quick to justify that matter when Alhaitham makes some mildly passive-aggressive comment about it. No, it's not unethical nor coercion to have sex with you just because you depend on him for survival or anything. They NEED to have sex or they'll get sick... and in his defense, that's the common belief.

See, Sumeru is, predictably, the origin of a great deal of pseudoscience. Whereas other regions are more prone to bizarre and dumb traditional beliefs and stereotypes with no real basis that simply persist over time, Sumeru inhabitants prefer their misinformation to be peer-reviewed and doctoral-degree-verified, based on "studies" and "research" that is definitely not the sort where they intentionally set up the research to achieve predetermined results. You can even major in things of the sort at the Akademiya, like female medicine or female psychology, very lucrative fields seeing as they deal with primarily high-wealth clients (and otherwise men who are still willing to pay out the nose for the well-being of their beloved).

The Akademiya is also the world's leading institute on research for female hysteria, neurosis and psychosis, and cures thereof. The cause of such disorders is, generally, an imbalance of the humors and biles caused by hormonal deficiencies that are a direct result of the creature being undersexed. The Studies™ show that they become depressed and psychologically unwell as a result of several directly related causes, namely lack of orgasm and lack of having their pair-bonded mate's seed in them. Throws their brains off-balance.

Which is why Kaveh's not like the typical cruel, heartless person that buys these poor victimized girls just to use them like toys and objects, no, he's doing this because it's a necessary part of your care. The intention is what matters, and thereby makes it non-exploitative... also, of course, actually having mutual love for each other makes it non-exploitative, which he insists is the case... he's especially insistent of this after a certain someone muttered an unnecessary comment just loud enough for him to hear that 'she has every incentive to *act* like she loves you, you know,' which left him upset for some time.

He's not wrong... you do gladly proclaim you do. That's how you've always been trained to act — even if you met your master ten seconds ago, you are ready at any moment to muster a smile and say you love him. The universally understood rules are simple: you love your master from the moment you meet him, you show no signs of discontentment, and you pretend as if you came into existence that very moment — never mentioning your past, acting as if any previous owners or living situations have been wiped from your memory, and above all, never comparing your current owner to a past one in a negative way.

Especially seeing as Kaveh is obviously... on edge. It's not like he isn't well aware of the ticking time bomb of a setup he's managed to find himself in. Staying in a home with some other guy, while having you around... it's asking for something to go wrong. Most people wouldn't dare, and would view the choice as a rather stupid one.

Thus, Kaveh is always trying to deter you from interacting, telling you that the man who owns the home is either too calloused and will be a bad influence, or too insensitive and will hurt your feelings; there's no way someone as thoughtless and dense as him would ever be able to appropriately, properly converse with your kind, known for emotionally sensitivity and all. Besides, you have no real reason to even want to speak to him, right?

So you can talk only when they're both around, when he's there to ensure Alhaitham doesn't say something stupidly insensitive or offensive. Which leads to some disputes, the two bicker back and forth even more than they would normally. And you... well, they can't be upset with you for at least trying to intervene, trying to be soft-spoken and sweet so as to not make it worse. It's very awkward for everyone involved.

His affection for you makes him that much more infuriated when he finds out that Alhaitham has been taking you out of the house and, in his mind, forcing you to spend time with him when you obviously have no desire to, parading you around as if you're his. It frustrates him, it upsets him, but... he can't really do anything.

On Alhaitham's end, though, it's only fair, so he thinks. Come on. What was he thinking? Knowing full well that Alhaitham doesn't have one, and yet he still basically wants to torment him by having you there? It feels like rubbing salt in a wound, of course he should know this was bound to happen eventually.

It's just slowly building up to a much bolder move, or rather, a compromise. Just... once a month, maybe. It's what he's owed, you know? And he'll be sure to fill out the paperwork verifying that he has partial ownership, meaning he's entitled to physical relations anyway.

With no other options, Kaveh is more or less forced to agree, albeit very very begrudginly... but, of course, with limits! He doesn't exactly have any right to set those limits, really, but Alhaitham agrees to them if for nothing else but to save himself the complaining and chastising he'd get otherwise. It's only a very small allowance, once per month and only once, no more than half an hour, and absolutely no other exchanges of any affection outside of that! Not that he can be there to enforce that, but he trusts you'll tell him if that bastard makes any move to touch you or kiss you or try anything whenever he's not around... won't you?

Not knowing what else to do (and stuck between trying to keep two rather stubborn individuals happy at the same time), you're very quick to assure him that of course you won't allow such a thing, and, of course, that you love him so much more, he's so much better and he's the only one that can actually make you feel good, so on and so on... he's not exactly happy about the situation, but your words placate him. For now, at least, until Alhaitham keeps pushing the bar for what he's allowed further, and further, and further...

#poor kuckveh 😔#and then he just takes out another loan and goes further into debt to buy one for alhthm so hell leave you two alone--#but also I like to think that kveh just like #sits outside the room the whole time and makes no effort to hide it #like how high school teachers will just blatantly stand there and loom over kids doing group work lmao #.mmau #.kv #.ah

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