#god this ended up a lot longer than I intended it to

[youarewhatyoulove-blog]

the violence of the dog days.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

summary: In the midst of summertime, after a week of neglect, your boyfriend has a way of making you feel even more heated.

OR

you're hot and horny for jeongguk.

rating: mature🔞 (minors please dni)

genre: non-idol au, college au, established relationship, smut, fluff, pwp

word count: 9.2k words of unadulterated smut.

warnings: reader and jeongguk are absolute horny simps for each other, but they're also so inlove, soft boyfriend jeongguk (because yes that is a warning), jeongguk is a law student (oof), overuse of the petname 'baby', reader hasn't been getting it seven days a week😔, switch jeongguk (kinda), hair pulling, hickeys, making out, thigh riding, nipple play (jeongguk is proudly a boob guy), religious imagery because jeongguk worships reader like a god, usage of the words 'c*nt' and 'p*ssy' (because i know some people are iffy about that), cunnilingus (f-receiving), jeongguk is low-key a sadist y'all (in his fantasies), a bit of dom/sub dynamics, prayers for reader because jeongguk's got that big d🙏🏽, unprotected sex, doggy style, degradation, a teeny weeny bit of overstimulation, creampie - like this is just pure smut guys 😬, possessive sex, choking, aftercare, reader kinda hints at having attachment issues (but don't we all).

author's note: 1. please ignore any typos :). of course, i'd appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism. but if you find yourself uncomfortable by any of the themes in this fic, there's no need for hate, just kindly move on. 2. also, this is a lot longer and softer than i intended. this fic was supposed to be purely hard smut, but i fell in love with the characters and their relationship, and some aspects of the story just turned out sickeningly sweet - so proceed with caution.

You're an hour into tossing and turning when you can't take it anymore.

The heat.

With June coming to a close end, the surviving remnants of summer creep in through your bedroom window with barely a whisper of a breeze. It clings to every part of your skin, that ever-lingering humidity thickening the air, and wraps itself around your body like a cloak. For some reason, you thought that scrolling aimlessly through the various apps on your phone would help distract your mind from the muggy weather or maybe, by some miracle, even lull you to sleep.

But it hasn’t—of course it hasn't. Because summer is here to stay, burrowing deep within your bones and making a home there. Each passing minute is a testament to that, insomnia creeping up your spine with ill intent and wriggling into every cranny of your mind until you feel like you're losing it.

Perhaps you are, you think.

Because when the desk fan a few feet away suddenly stops whirring and the fumbling grasp you had on sleep slips from your reach like a fleeting dream in the morning light as a result of it—drifting further and further away—you hit your breaking point. The lack of white noise and cool air blowing your way mounts your frustration into place. It hangs there in the ether like a looming shadow but, unlike your slumber, has no plans of deserting you.

With an annoyed huff, you drop your phone back onto the nightstand for the umpteenth time and kick your leg out from under the duvet.

“Fuck.” You sigh, rolling onto your back.

A thin sheen of sweat lingers on the surface of your skin, causing the sheets to stick uncomfortably to every part of your body. You spread your limbs out like a starfish in some futile attempt to cool them down, hoping that you'll catch a draft, but the action only reminds you of how largely cavernous your bed feels right now.

The space beside you is missing a particular doe-eyed boy and, as your hand brushes over the empty spot, you realize that it's not so much the seasonal heat that's making you feel weirdly restless, but rather Jeongguk's absence. In an inconveniently clingy way, you need his body settled next to you at night, your legs and arms a tangled mess beneath the blankets.

You don't know why that is. Why sleep eludes you like a compass without direction, unable to find its way to you when Jeongguk isn't near. But you don't mull over it or give the thought a foothold to stand amongst the endless anxieties already in your head.

All you know is that cuddling up with him in the evening is perhaps one of your favourite pastimes. Akin to a baby with it's bottle, falling asleep in his embrace is something you've grown incredibly used to, maybe even a little dependent on—like a security blanket or night-light—and there's nothing you can do about it.

Sneaking a glance towards the dim light spilling in from beneath the bedroom door, you picture Jeongguk on the other side. Chances are, he’s still where you last left him. Sitting cross-legged on the couch with a laptop balancing carefully on his lap, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration, as he catches up on coursework.

You worry your lip, the thought of your boyfriend causing your mind to wander...

He looked so good tonight; adorned in a pair of grey sweats and a baggy t-shirt with his tattoos fully exposed. His dark hair was strewn across his forehead, falling into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch.

You, on the other hand, are sporting an old, oversized shirt you opted to steal from Jeongguk's wardrobe to combat the high temperatures, but it hasn't helped much. The heat still loiters, creeping up the back of your neck and imbuing your cheeks with warmth.

It makes you long for winter, for the bitter nip of frosty ice and pelting rain, and the desire for that inadvertently reminds you of that fucking silver lip ring Jeongguk had gotten recently.

The memory of its cold, metal sting against your lips as he kissed you goodnight sends a distant, carnal hum coursing throughout your veins. It's probably tugged anxiously between his teeth right now whilst he types away, eyes deadset on the screen before him, and the image of that sends you reeling. Makes your skin flush further, yearning to feel its steel bite again.

For some reason, it propels you into motion, skin prickling as you throw your legs over the edge of the mattress without a second thought.

The last thing you want to do is bother his progress or interrupt his work, but selfishly, you persist. That gnawing feeling deep within your chest is too hard to ignore, heart beating voraciously with each step you take because it longs to be satiated by Jeongguk's presence. Your boyfriend is only one room over, just four thin walls separating the two of you, yet still—you miss him, want him.

Treading lightly, you hear the persistent click-clack of his keyboard and the muffled sound of typing only grows louder as you step out into the hallway. The wooden flooring is frigid beneath your feet, a sensation you immediately relish in as soon as the fiery crawl of discomfort across your skin begins to lessen. Your shirt—or more precisely, Jeongguk’s shirt—falls flat from your waist, landing a few inches above your knees, as you wander further into the apartment.

Just as you’d predicted, Jeongguk is all pretzelled up on the sofa, too focused on his work to hear you enter. A few empty bottles of soju and convenience store snacks litter the coffee table, serving as silent witnesses to the length of time he's been out here. He must have dimmed the lights as well because a faint, warm glow shrouds every facet of the room, making him look particularly soft at this hour.

You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around the length of his shoulders as you bend over the couch's headrest to envelop him in a hug. ”Hey,” You hum softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Jeongguk startles slightly at the contact, shaken from his deep concentration as he angles his head to look up at you. “Shit, baby. You scared me.” He breathes, voice rough from disuse. It rumbles through you like a distant thunderstorm, body vibrating with electricity.

“Sorry,” You murmur, glancing at the assignment he's been working on and tiny pangs of guilt gradually trickle into your stomach. “I didn't mean to disturb you, but-”

“You're not disturbing me.” Jeongguk instantly reassures, scanning your face with a knowing look. “Can’t sleep?” He asks and you nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. The scent of his body wash immediately encompasses you like a warm embrace, wild pinewood and bergamot invading your senses.

“I thought you’d be in bed by now.” You mumble against his skin, unable to hide the pout in your voice.

Jeongguk frowns, eyes flickering to the time at the bottom of his laptop screen.

Shit, he hadn’t even noticed how late it’s gotten, the hours skulking along the cusp of a new day. He should probably be turning in for the night, head to bed and worry about this project tomorrow, but he’d rather not postpone his responsibilities. Not when you’re staying over the weekend and he could be spending that time with you instead.

“I know.” Jeongguk responds, hand coming up to intertwine with yours. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” He promises, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The featherlight kiss he presses there soothes you like a curative balm.

“Okay,” You relent, untangling yourself from his body. “But, can I stay here for a bit? It’s too hot in there.” You half lie, gesturing towards the bedroom while simultaneously walking over to the kitchen only a few feet away.

“Yeah, of course.” He murmurs, eyes following your movements.

“Thanks, Kook.” You smile, sparing him a glance over your shoulder as your eyes sparkle with mirth. “By the way, your fan broke down again.”

“Again?” He laments, eyebrows furrowed together whilst he runs a disgruntled hand through his hair. “I seriously need to get that old thing repaired or maybe even replaced.” He grumbles to himself, before a guilty afterthought occurs at the sight of you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby. No wonder you couldn't sleep.”

You don't tell him that it's not so much the heat keeping you awake but, more so, him.

“No, don't worry about it.” You settle on instead, trying to dispel his concerns. “It's not your fault.”

This isn't the first time that Jeongguk’s fan has given him problems. He's had the thing since high school; so it’s no surprise that the motor tends to give in every now and then, running a little too hot. He’s been meaning to get the issue sorted, but hasn’t really found the time to do that these days.

“Plus, I'd much rather be out here with you.” You add.

Jeongguk smiles at you so sweetly then, dimples making an appearance, and your body flushes all over, burning once again.

God, what is wrong with you tonight?

You need to calm down, cool down. At this rate, you feel like an overheating engine, bound to crash in on yourself and combust.

Grabbing a glass of ice water from the fridge dispenser, you rein yourself in, distracting your mind with conversation. “I promise not to be a bother though, like you won't even notice I'm here.” You say, before chugging the cold liquid down on the spot, completely ignorant to the way that Jeongguk drinks you in.

A welcome sight is what you are, so cute tonight with your hair all mussed, practically drowning in his shirt. “You’re never a bother.” He responds, mouth going dry when you lean back to empty the glass. The action causes your shirt to hike up, the creamy expanse of your thighs further exposed to his hungry eyes.

He feels his dick stir at the sight.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” You ask, wiping your lips with the back of your palm, as you place your cup in the sink and shuffle over towards your boyfriend.

“Uhh…” Jeongguk clears his throat, broken out of his stupor. He turns back to face his laptop, skimming the Word document that's open before him when he feels you nestle into his side a second later. Automatically, he brings a hand down to rest against your leg.

“I’m not sure,” He grumbles, thumb rubbing soothing circles against your bare thigh. The absent-minded touch ignites something in you, skin blazing at the contact, and you try your best to suppress the goosebumps that rise in Jeongguk’s wake. “Maybe another hour or so?” He guesses.

“Oh.” You mumble and, although you fight the disappointed curl of your lips, Jeongguk doesn’t miss the deflated look on your face.

“I’m sorry,” He squeezes your thigh apologetically, frown overtaking his pretty features. “I know it’s been a while since we spent time together.”

A week exactly, you note, but ultimately keep that detail to yourself. After all, neither one of you is to blame for being so busy, constantly caught between work and university.

You think that's maybe the reason you're feeling so needy tonight, body set ablaze by every minor look and touch from your boyfriend. In a way, you're feeling a little neglected since your relationship’s taken the backseat, not by choice but by consequence, and you don’t know how to deal with it.

“It's fine.” You shrug. "It's not like we can help it.”

You try to be nonchalant about the matter, injecting the slightest hint of indifference into your tone, but Jeongguk sees right through you.

He always does.

“Come here.” He says suddenly, voice soft as he shifts his laptop onto the coffee table.

You look up at him, confusion clear on your face.

“What?” You blink, but your question falls on deaf ears because Jeongguk merely uncrosses his legs and pats his lap.

“Come here,” He then repeats and reaches for your waist.

You're uncertain for the briefest of moments, eyeing Jeongguk suspiciously, before you ultimately give in like malleable clay in his soft hands, allowing him to pull you onto his lap with ease. “I've been working for hours.” He grumps once you're comfortably straddling his waist, hands resting on either side of your hips. “Hardly seen you since you got here.”

You hum, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in thought. It's no secret that you've been spending a lot more time at Jeongguk's place in lieu of your ratty little dorm room. You felt bad about it at first, feeling as though you were invading his space and overstaying your welcome. But your boyfriend couldn't be happier about it. He rather likes the idea of your lives interlocking, melding together as if they were puzzle pieces falling into place. He likes that when he's working, like on nights like this, that you're just on the opposite side of the door, not one phone call or car ride away.

He likes that you're his and he is, equally as much, yours.

“I wanted to leave you to your work.” You explain, curling your arms around his neck. Your fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of his hair that have grown out and the light touch only brings about the memory of how much he has missed you these past few days.

“Well, it's about time I take a break, don't you think?” Jeongguk muses and you become hyper-aware of the way his fingers brush up your spine. “Give my girl some attention…” He trails on, eyes flickering to your lips.

You practically preen at the idea, smiling shyly as you lean into his touch. “I wouldn't object to that.” Your heart patters in your chest, beating wildly at the mere sight of Jeongguk. At the thought of him finally touching you, kissing you, quenching your thirst after this week-long drought. “I've missed you.”

Jeongguk chuckles faintly. “Me too, baby.” He murmurs, perching his head upwards to press his lips against yours.

The kiss is gentle, chaste, his plush lips feeling so featherlight against yours. You almost imagine they were never there to begin with because Jeongguk pulls away before you can truly savour the taste of them.

“You know, you look so pretty in my clothes.” He begins, large hand spreading lazily around your left hip and up your back. “Kinda makes me want to wreck you.”

“You already wreck me.” You breathe without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk rasps, his voice low and a little dark. It sends a thrill straight up your spine.

You nod in response, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “No one makes me feel the way you do.” You admit, eyes flitting across his face. It's an unwavering truth—one that simultaneously scares and excites you in this quiet dead of night.

“Can I kiss you again?” The words come out as a breathy whisper; as if you've been holding on to them for too long, as if they're the oxygen you so desperately need to breathe, and Jeongguk tilts his head, bewildered frown on his face.

“How is that even a question.” He gripes, slanting his head in a means to meet your mouth halfway, but you have another idea.

You press into him instead, leaning forward, and set out to peck lovingly along the curvature of Jeongguk’s jawline. He huffs in amusement, endeared by the way you take control. Because, although he’s usually the dominant one in the bedroom, he doesn't mind when you take charge like this. In fact, he's grown to love it. Loves the way you come into your own, toying and teasing with him, until your own actions cause you to grow desperate.

It's one of his greater weaknesses, his Achilles heel, and right now, you want nothing more than to expose it. Unveil a certain side of him. The one that'll see how far you can push before he starts to push back. The one that'll give in and take you right here on this couch after he's entertained your antics for long enough and you finally beg him to fuck you.

Your body practically hums at the thought.

You map out his skin, lips brushing against the surface like you're exploring a new land. Every movement careful, every touch claiming what's yours. And it almost goes to your head—how quickly Jeongguk submits to your mouth’s assault, his body relaxing into the couch like he's letting you have your way with him.

Jeongguk doesn't tell you that he is. That your lips are a holy grail he'd happily yield to.

When your teeth graze lightly at a particular soft spot below his ear, he lets out a small groan, eyes falling closed at the sensation. You feel the sound roll through you, the ache between your legs becoming hard to ignore when you think about the fact that you've roused that melody from his mouth.

It spurs you on, makes you want to hear it again and again. You want to paint the entire column of his neck red and then watch your confession of love fade to a bruised purple in the weeks to come. You want to rediscover all the ways that you can make Jeongguk sing, and the way your body dances to his tune in turn. Your lips lap him up, kisses becoming indelicate with desperation, teeth nipping with intent along his upper jaw, tongue tracing over the skin before you repeat all these gestures twicefold.

You can feel yourself growing wet, relish in the way that Jeongguk's hands tighten around your form. “Shit,” He mumbles and your body crows. Without pause, you shift against his lap and move to the neglected side of his neck, targeting the skin there. You can feel him getting hard beneath you, your core situated right above his growing erection, and it causes a shiver to run down your spine.

You plant a few messy kisses against his throat, nibbling vehemently, but then Jeongguk tuts and pries his eyes open before you have the opportunity to really sink your teeth into him.

“Baby,” He warns, curling a hand into your hair to form a makeshift ponytail. “No marks. I've got a presentation on Monday.” He says and pulls you back by an inch. His movements are somewhat hesitant, voice rough, like he's not entirely sure he truly wants you to stop.

But he has to. He can't afford to show up to class on Monday and present the most important project of his life with hickeys all over his neck.

“Next time.” He promises, but you consider outright ignoring him for a second, even though it's nonsensical, like some twisted form of punishment for a week of neglect.

But it’s Jeongguk—Jeongguk who’s been extra stressed lately about completing his degree. Jeongguk who’s carving time out of working on his big assignment right now—one which, not only counts forty percent of his grade, but could also earn him an internship at one of the top law firms in Seoul if he's lucky enough—all to pay special attention to you.

So, “Fine.” You give in, albeit a little petulantly, and brace your hands against his chest, face feeling flushed. “I’m sorry. I just wanna be close to you is all.”

“I know. Me too.” He rasps, grip on your hair loosening a touch, but not completely. “We don't have to stop though, just don't mark me up.” He explains, free hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

“Okay,” You slide your palms up his chest, feeling the toned muscles tense beneath your touch. “I really love you, you know?”

Jeongguk's eyes soften, a hint of a smile creeping up on his face. “I know,” He hums, tugging at your hair in a way that makes your scalp tingle. “But I don't think it comes close to how much I love you.” He rasps, using his grip as leverage to pull your head backwards until the delicate skin of your throat is exposed. “It's incomparable.” He murmurs, placing a single kiss on the side of your mouth before he travels south, lips peppering across your jawline.

You shiver, hands twisting into the thick material of Jeongguk's t-shirt. You want to tell him that it's not a competition, that you'd love him until the sun stops rising and, even if this one week of distance had been more, you know that he feels the same.

But the heavy palpitations in your chest causes the words to dissolve on your tongue because Jeongguk pulls the collar of your shirt to the side a second later, exposing more of your skin, before he traces a path along your décolletage. He's touching you like a starved man, mouth just as desperate and feverish as you’re starting to feel.

A stuttered gasp escapes your lips, your hands moving upwards, unsure of where to be, when he nips at a particularly sensitive spot. You settle them on his shoulders.

“Jeongguk,” You moan, the tingling between your legs maturing into an unbearable ache.

“I know, baby.” He abruptly pulls away from your clavicle—lips red, eyes blown. “Tell me what you want.”

His demand goes over your head because you don't know what you want; can barely think straight with the lingering feeling of Jeongguk's lips on your neck. With the growing wetness sticking uncomfortably to your panties. With the burning, hot embers laying at the base of your stomach, begging to be set ablaze. And Jeongguk knows that. Knows that you're neither here nor there, only somewhere in the middle, teetering on the line of endless choices. So he lets go of your hair then, manoeuvres your body until you're straddling only his left thigh.

“Don't think about it, baby.” He murmurs, both hands moving to your hips. He guides them back and forth, slow and gentle, with just enough pressure to relieve that desperate throbbing in your pussy. “Just feel.”

And you do, sinking into your own little bubble, a paradise as impenetrable as the gates of heaven. You take your time to grind up against him, moving in tandem with the flow of his hands and a soft whimper climbs up your throat at the sensation of your clit brushing against the firm muscles of Jeongguk’s thigh. You're already so soaked, underwear absolutely sodden from the relentless pendular motions of your pelvis, and when you look down to find a dark, damp spot beginning to stain Jeongguk's sweatpants, you can't help but intensify your movements.

It should be embarrassing, how quickly you've become turned on, how much you're dripping, when Jeongguk's barely touched you, but instead you just feel liberated. Pure power coursing through your veins because your boyfriend has given you the reins, is letting you use his body like a bitch in heat, and it's exhilarating; intoxicating every facet of your mind.

“That's it,” Jeongguk purrs, deserting your hips once you gain momentum to instead sneak both hands up the hem of your shirt.

Your breath escapes its chambers when he trails past the soft curve of your waist and straight to your breasts. “Fuck, you're so beautiful.” He grunts, gaze intent on your every reaction, like he's watching artwork unfold. His nimble fingers circle your nipples, tracing them with the most tantalizing pattern, until they begin to harden.

“Please,” You choke, clasping his shirt in between your fists like it's some sort of lifeline. You're not even sure what you're begging for, pace quickening as you ride Jeongguk’s thigh more aggressively. Every rut forward sends sparks shooting throughout your body, nerve endings alight, and when Jeongguk pinches your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, your back arches in pleasure. A throaty moan penetrates the room otherwise filled with nothing but your uneven pants and the sound of Jeongguk's voice.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” He groans, hands inching towards your shirt’s lower seam. He drags it over your torso, itching for better access to your breasts. Even in your muddled state, you meet him halfway, raising your arms above your head until the damned thing is off and you're left in nothing but your lacy underwear.

You hardly have time to adjust to the humid air hitting your torso, when Jeongguk tips his head forward, enveloping your right nipple into his mouth with reckless abandon. The response is instantaneous, a strangled sob slipping past your lips at the feeling of his warm mouth encased around your stiffened peak. His tongue swipes across your nipple, shockwaves manifesting at the blissful contact, and you don't know how much longer you're going to last—an embarrassing feat you don’t ponder on too much.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the attention Jeongguk pays you. Whimpering when the pads of his fingers move to fondle the nipple of your forsaken breast while the other submits to his mouth’s pleasurable torment, each purposeful pinch causing them to tighten all the more. Your skin feels like it's on fire, the warmth of Jeongguk's touch igniting the cinders glowing from deep within your belly. “I-I think,” You swallow, your pussy rubbing deliciously into Jeongguk's leg. “I think I'm going to come soon,” You manage to admit through a repressed whine, voice so strained it sounds foreign even to your own ears.

You don't think you've ever hit an orgasm this quickly. You've never had to. Because you and Jeongguk are like inseparable magnets; every atom in your bodies drawn to each other, always connecting like two poles seeking the other out—never going more than a few days without some form of intimacy. Never mind a week.

At least, not until now.

So when Jeongguk bounces his leg upwards to meet the force of your pussy coming down on his quadricep, adding to the way you slam into him, your clit positively throbbing at the impact, you feel the onset of that familiar coil in your stomach tightening.

“Just let go, baby.” Jeongguk rasps, granting you permission with one final flick of your nipples and then you're coming undone, white fiery heat flooding every fiber of your body, as you cry out his name. Only his name, forever on your lips. You feel the way your entire form convulses, the way Jeongguk helps you through it, flexing his thigh so that you can get the most out of your orgasm, and your hips buck forward—unrelenting and greedy—before they finally ease into a slow rut. Grinding into him until the receding, minuscule waves of pleasure begin to fade.

With the last few clenches of your pulsating core, you slowly catch your breath, muscles slackening as you become pliant in Jeongguk's arms, the weight of your body suddenly too much for you to bear. Your boyfriend holds you tight though, both hands moving to your waist to keep you secure.

Behind the darkness of your closed eyelids; you hear Jeongguk softly murmur your name and feel the way his hand comes up to your face, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear before he cups your cheeks. “You okay, angel?” He asks, voice emerging as a hushed tone.

When you manage to tear your eyes open and give him a soft, affirmative nod, Jeongguk seems satisfied, pressing a delicate kiss to your sternum before he shifts you from his lap and onto your back in one fell, but gentle swoop.

Your head hits the soft leather of the sofa with the aftermath of your climax still lingering against your skin like crackling electricity, fuzzing up your mind. “You think you can take more?” He asks, eyes flitting across your face to get a read on your current state of mind.

You nod your head assuredly, reaching out to make a grab for his body, to bring him closer. “Yeah I can,” You say confidently, arm's snaking up his back to explore the taut muscles that reside there.

Jeongguk is hovering over your body, thigh pressed hotly between your legs, and even though you can feel the rush of arousal, brought on only a second ago, pooling uncomfortably in your underwear—you want more. You want him. “I want to carry on.”

Jeongguk studies your demeanour, casting your body and expression a careful once-over, because he wants to feel you, be in you, wants to make you see stars. But it's only a matter of whether you're able to handle that right now. He has barely had his way with you, but you already look so fucked out, so perfect for him. It makes the blood rush straight to his dick. “You make me crazy.” He rasps, eyes locking with yours as he brings a hand up, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip.

You almost cower beneath his touch, beneath the sincerity of his gaze; appraising the very depths of your being as if you were a delicate treasure, as if he were staring at a god or something of a divine beauty.

Jeongguk thinks that maybe he is; thinks you’re the light, the one thing he’d worship morning, noon and night through blind faith. And there are barely enough words in the dictionary for him to express this notion to you, so instead he settles for “I love you.” Voice as rough as the high tides, but softer than moonlight.

He feels compelled to tell you this every chance he gets, a hopeless slave to his feelings for you. “Like I've never loved anything else in my life.” He continues. It's a quiet confession in the night, not a new one, but the words mean just as much as the first time he admitted them to you.

You feel yourself melt, can't remember ever feeling this cherished. Not since before Jeongguk and hopefully, never after. “I love you too.” You murmur, taking a moment to drink in every detail of the man who has left you restless all night.

Your eyes flicker over the defined cut of his jaw. The delicate curve of his lips and the pretty mole resting just beneath it. The small kissable scar on his cheek. The feathery flutter of his eyelashes. The strands of hair that have fallen over his face, and you retract your hand from his back to push them away.

How did you ever get this lucky?

“So much.” You emphasize and your voice thickens with the weight of your words, spoken from the very depths of your soul. “More than you could ever know.” Because there aren't enough words in the dictionary to get this notion across, so instead you lift your head, planting a firm kiss to Jeongguk’s lips as if sealing a vow, a promise of forever.

Jeongguk receives your kiss like he does with everything else related to you; openly, hungrily. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip—once—twice—and you instantly become pliant under his weight. Your fingers find his hair, tangling into the dark tresses as you deepen the kiss. It’s hot and it’s heavy, and in the distant part of your mind, you register that Jeongguk tastes like peaches, most likely from the alcohol he’s been drinking.

The sweetness of his lips immediately goes to your head; drunk and euphoric, and all grace flies out the window the next second. “Touch me,” You murmur breathlessly against his mouth, fingertips skimming over the nape of his neck. “Please, I need you.”

Jeongguk groans, a husky sound resonating from deep within his throat. “Fuck,” You can feel how rock hard he’s gotten, his erection pressing into your inner thigh and it's making you delirious with need. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Jeongguk rumbles, his mouth forming a wet, messy trek away from yours to embrace the flesh of your breasts.

You want to tell him that it's him, only him you want. Puppeteering your every move, body relinquishing itself to his touch. But you don't. You can't, not when Jeongguk's teeth leave scarlet marks across your chest that render you mute, words evaporating on your tongue like sacramental bread.

“My pretty baby,” He coos tenderly and you fight the urge to rut up against him. “Always so fucking ready for me.“ He praises, kisses traveling southward and it burns, searing, everywhere that Jeongguk touches you. You think you might erupt or shatter, and nothing less, if he doesn't meet you where you really need him to, your cunt begging to be satiated with his fingers, or his tongue, or his dick—anything.

A whimper escapes your lips, an embarrassing, desperate sound hanging in the thick air, as you glance down past your heaving breasts. You watch as Jeongguk abandons your boobs, planting a trail of kisses across the expanse of your stomach, your hip bones—takes the tiny little ribbon on your underwear between his teeth and tugs. The deliberate gesture causes your panty to rise up a bit, ever so slightly brushing against your clit in the process, and you bite down on your bottom lip, holding back an ungodly moan.

You can't take it anymore, all this teasing.

Jeongguk can read it on your face; sees it in the way you swiftly tilt your head back, eyes closed, brows scrunched together. He knows you like the back of his hand, which is how he gauges that you've fallen back into a place of submission—done with the tortuous foreplay, done with calling the shots, done with delaying the inevitable. You want him to fuck you, to use your body the same way you had used his mere minutes ago. And if his dick could get any harder at the thought, it would.

Jeongguk licks his lips, slips a finger into the curve of your waistband as he murmurs, “I’m gonna take this off now, okay?”

You nod your head, not daring to open your eyes to confront the image of Jeongguk's face a mere hair's breadth away from your cunt. It's too erotic. Too much. You feel him drag the thin garment down your legs, a string of arousal following suit, and suddenly feel self-conscious, attempting to close your legs to hide how shamefully wet you are.

But Jeongguk's not having any of that.

He carelessly chucks the lacy material to the side like it’s nothing but a rag, a nuisance, and then grips your inner thigh. “Don't you dare,” He grunts, using his grasp to keep your legs apart, lifting them upwards until your knees are bent to your chest and your ankles are resting over his shoulders, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt.

You barely have time to register the ticklish feeling of Jeongguk's breath fanning against your core before he dives straight in, licking a long stripe across your pussy, and your hips instinctively buck up. “Shit,” You mewl, rejoicing in the way his tongue traverses from your slit to your clit, lapping up every drop of arousal.

Jeongguk groans, a sound so low, stemming from the heart of his diaphragm, when he samples that first morsel of your leaking nectar. You taste like heaven, so sweet and unbearably wet, and all just for him.

“So fucking good,” He grumbles, mouth drinking you in. His tongue is unrelenting in its efforts to devour your pussy, and the overwhelming sensation of him slurping and sucking—of him eating you out like a connoisseur tasting the rarest of delicacies—causes frenzied pools of pleasure to ripple within the base of your belly.

He keeps at it, nose brushing against your clit as a byproduct, and after a few minutes the pure, unwavering rapture of Jeongguk's tongue becomes excruciating. A feeling so good, it’s almost too much. “Jeongguk,” You wail, heels digging into the couch as you try to back away from his mouth, but your boyfriend merely hooks his arms around your legs and pulls you closer. Holding you in place; unable to run or escape from the ruthless onslaught of his tongue, from the metal bite of his piercing brushing against your lower lips. “I can't,” You cry, writhing beneath his touch.

With his grip keeping you firmly anchored, Jeongguk brings one hand down to toy with your swollen clit, fingers moving in languid, clockwise motions. “You can,” He grunts thickly, tongue slipping between your folds and prodding deliciously at your hole. “I know you can, baby.” He mumbles in between fucking your drenched pussy with his fleshy muscle.

You shake your head frantically, eyes screwed shut, as you feel the waves of your second orgasm surfacing. “Not like this,” You beg, using your hands to reach down, fingers twisting into his fluffy hair as you desperately try to push him away. “Please, I want you in me.” A sob runs free, your walls pulsating around nothing because Jeongguk is taking his time with you, teasing your opening like he's got all night. But you don't. You're close, so fucking close, you can feel it in the tightening muscles of your pelvis, in the quivering of your legs.

But Jeongguk isn't giving you enough. He isn't giving you what you need. Your boyfriend, in all his hot glory, is taking you there with his tongue, swirling insufferably along your orifice—bringing you right up to the edge of the plank with an ocean of pleasure waiting just below your feet, but then he pulls you back. Drags you from the precipice before you can allow yourself to fall in, and it causes a frustrated whine to escape your lips. You need his cock deep inside, filling you up, pushing you off the ledge and into troubled waters. Your pussy throbs at the very thought. “Please Kook,” You find yourself beseeching for the second time. “I wanna cum with you in me.”

And any thread of composure Jeongguk has been holding on to up until that point, snaps at the pure neediness burrowed within your tone.

He looks up at you; lips glistening, eyes dilated—a mess of a man. But you don't look any better—or, if you were getting a glimpse of yourself through Jeongguk's point of view, never better—skin flushed, gleaming with a fine film of sweat, lips swollen from the way you've been biting them, and all at once, Jeongguk is overcome with the desire to give you everything you've ever wanted.

“Fuck, okay,” He curses, rising to his knees and you force your eyes open at the rough edge tainting his voice, at the overwhelming relief of getting what you wished for. “But it’s going to be a bit of a stretch, baby.” He says, not having prepped you fully. It's been a while since the two of you have had sex and, if he had it his way, he would have given you his fingers first, would have warmed and widened your lubricated walls, to ease the initial discomfort of him entering you.

But you look so pretty beneath him, so impatient, and—“I can handle it,” You mollify, voice a sweet concoction of sultry persuasion.

He nods in response, a curt motion, because if he thinks about how eager you're being, about how you're willing to take a little bit of the pain for the insurmountable pleasure, he might just come right there. Might just think of all the other ways you like to hurt; of the way you'd react if his palm made rough contact with your ass cheeks, or what would happen if he handcuffed you to his bedpost and stuffed you full with a vibrator and butt plug—if he fucked you tonight with no end in sight. He wonders if you'd cry, if you'd beg him for more or want him to stop, sopping and spent. More than that, he wants so badly to find out.

Jeongguk’s dark eyes find yours, their typical doe-eyed demeanour having turned hooded a long time ago. Yours are twinkling with anticipation, watching intently as he pulls his sweatpants down, letting them hang low beneath his buttocks. His cock immediately springs free, slapping against his stomach, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight.

“Come here,” Jeongguk's voice carries a jagged intonation, raw and untamed, and breaks through you like crashing waves. But when he makes a grab for your body, his hands are nothing but gentle, hoisting you up onto your knees and positioning you on all fours.

With your ass bared before him, face pressed into the cold faux leather of the couch, Jeongguk smooths a hand down your back, watches with satisfaction as your spine yields before his touch, and then he takes a hold of his dick. Doesn't even bother giving it a few preliminary pumps because he's already painfully hard, precum leaking from the tip as he lines himself with your hole.

He doesn't put it in though.

First, he teases your little cunt with only the head of his length, not fully embedding himself within your warmth just yet. You whimper pathetically at the testing prod, fingers balling into frustrated fists, while Jeongguk watches in awe as your entrance narrows, pleading to be stuffed.

“God, look at you.” Jeongguk groans, eyes traveling from your glistening pussy to the state of your overall servile form.

He places one hand on your hip, fingers digging into the skin there, as he inches just the slightest bit forward, his dick slowly pushing into you. Your mouth parts at the sensation and you shakily prop yourself up onto your elbows, head falling forward with a moan. “So fucking needy, huh.” He goads when you attempt to meet him in the middle, subtly backing up against his pelvis.

“No,” You shake your head as if it's some sort of lie, as if you haven't been thinking about this moment since you stepped over the doorsill of Jeongguk’s apartment earlier. And your boyfriend laughs—he actually laughs—a maniacal, derisive sound that rings in your ears.

“There's no need to deny it, baby.” He drawls like smooth liquor hitting the back of your throat, a silky succour that, for some reason, has you dumbly nodding along. Because Jeongguk’s entering you more now, his dick fighting against the tight restraint of your heat, and you're too distracted by the feeling of it to fully comprehend what he's saying.

“I mean,” He continues, reaching down between your legs to gather the wetness clinging to your folds before he bends over your back, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You’d think you've never been fucked a day in your life.” He murmurs, bringing his slick fingers to your level of sight.

You flush instantly, burning at the way your arousal dwells on Jeongguk's digits and forms a translucent web when he parts them into a V shape. “I can't help it,” You breathe shamefully, about to protest that it's his fault for letting you go so long without attention, for not taking care of your sexual needs and making you this susceptible to moments of depravity, when Jeongguk fully entrenches himself into your heat without so much as a warning.

“Aah,” Your jaw slackens at the sudden stretch of his length against your walls, the sensation so unfairly delicious you find yourself clenching around the intrusion with gasp, and your boyfriend uses the opportunity to stuff his letch-laiden fingers into your mouth.

“Clean them.” He grunts, lazily rocking forward and you choke back a moan, mouth instantly closing around his fingers. Head full of clouds, pussy filled to the brim, you obey. Your tongue licks up the juices stuck to his slim digits, gliding sensually across each one with care, and you vaguely hear Jeongguk curse below his breath, hips grinding into your core. “Fuck, just like that, angel.” He praises, allowing you to suck them clean for a few more seconds before he pulls them from your lips altogether with a lewd pop.

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs lovingly, pressing a singular kiss to your shoulder blade before he straightens to his full height behind you. “Always so perfect for me.”

Jeongguk's hands find your ass again and he gives the supple flesh a few gentle squeezes, savouring the way you whine in response.

“Please,” Your words come out embarrassingly broken and wretched, heart hammering in your chest with want, as you peek at Jeongguk over your shoulder. “Please, no more teasing. Just fuck me.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” Jeongguk asks, eyebrow raised, voice harbouring a hue of cockiness. He withdraws his thick length from your warm embrace at an agonizingly slow rate before thrusting right back in, repeating the motion steadily. “I'm fucking you right now, aren't I?”

You want to cry, your need to come so severe, it's starting to physically hurt.

Your fingers leave deep indents in the couch as you tackle the burning coals of frustration setting every inch of your body on fire. “M-More,” You stammer, feeling a pearl of arousal trickle down your thigh. You're so turned on right now, your mind an empty haze as Jeongguk edges you into oblivion, cunt so wet, you can barely feel the brush of his shaft against your walls anymore. “I need more.”

Jeongguk grins, feels the crown of his cock brush against a particular soft spot, and then decides to give you what you want. Because he loves it when you beg, when you become a blubbering mess beneath him, so cock-hungry, you forget yourself.

Without a moment's pause, Jeongguk pounds into you with unbridled vigour. His hips slap against your ass, the sound echoing throughout the room, and your body jerks forward at the impact. Your core is so drenched he's able to enter you with little resistance now. Emitting a rough, throaty groan, he fixates on how your creamy arousal coats his cock, disappearing in and out of your cunt.

“F-Fuck,” You hiss, your hand reaching back to firmly grip Jeongguk’s wrist for support, but he takes advantage of your extended arm and yanks you up until your back is pressed to his chest.

The new position gives him better access to your front and Jeongguk ghosts a hand around your waist without a second thought, smooths it down your stomach until he reaches your clit. Your body jolts the instant his fingers make contact with the swollen bud, legs quivering with the strength it's taking you to stay upright.

Your boyfriend notices your struggle and hooks his other arm around your waist, his fingertips holding you so tightly you won't be surprised if some bruises appear there tomorrow.

“Fuck, I've missed this.” He rasps, more to himself than you, whilst drilling against your g-spot. But the words affect you just the same as your pussy tightens in response, squeezing him into a death grip, and Jeongguk's hips stutter. “Jesus,” He groans, making a mental effort to stave off his own orgasm, trying to focus solely on you.

You really are going to be the death of him.

He breathes heavily through his nostrils before starting up again, slowly driving into you and his cock burrows so deep, you swear you can feel it in your uterus.

His fingers skim over your clit, tracing the nub ever so slightly because you're starting to flinch from his touch, starting to grow sensitive. And when your head falls back against his shoulder, a choked whine forcing its way out your throat, Jeongguk knows that you're close.

“You gonna come for me?” Jeongguk's lips brush against your temple, his hand deserting your pussy in sympathy to knead your breasts instead. You feel his thumb run over your nipple, static lightning steamrolling across your skin with each sweep.

“I-ah!” You can barely form a coherent sentence, the inklings of even one lucid thought slipping from your empty, fucked out mind as Jeongguk slams into you. He's setting a brutal pace, the noise of skin-against-skin undeniably obscene, but you can hardly find the will to care when the muscles in your abdomen begin to tense. They twist up like a clockwork toy, winding and winding, until Jeongguk hits a particular spot that makes your toes curl, and then you're coming undone for the second time tonight, knees buckling with the sheer force of your orgasm.

It hits you like a freight train, your body spasming. White dots of euphoria blur your vision, the pleasure so blinding, and Jeongguk's hold around your midsection is the only reason you don't collapse right there onto the couch.

“That's it, baby.” He reveres, hips never ceasing their movements even as your walls contract sporadically, determined to fuck you through it. An uncannily pornstar moan spills from your lips, mind and body having finally plunged into the silvery, stormy torrents of your climax, and the strangled sound causes something impossibly primal to rupture within Jeongguk. It thrashes at his chest like a wild caged animal, demanding release, and he recognizes the feeling all too well.

“You're mine, right? ” He finds himself grunting, voice husky with strain. The hand that was attending to your boobs instinctively ascends to your throat, squeezing slightly as he chases his own high, gives in to that grueling streak of possessiveness that only every rears its head when he has you like this—naked and vulnerable—and you groan at the familiar pressure.

You hum, walls clenching around him. “Only yours.” Your own hand reaches up, cuffing around his wrist for support as a tremor runs down your spine.

Jeongguk feels his balls tighten, the knowledge that he’s the sole witness to this side of you, so subservient and docile, sets him off the deep end.

Then you angle your head to the side, joining your lips with his. It's a messy, sloppy kiss, but the intimacy of it all causes Jeongguk's last bit of composure to crack.

He spills into you with a groan, the sound muffled by your mouth, as he rocks forward until every last drop of his seed is snug within your warmth.

The feeling of his cum bursting inside of you, length twitching, causes your pussy to flutter by reflex, milking Jeongguk of every ounce of cum, only suspending their contractions once he's thoroughly depleted.

By the end, you're both a heaving mess; chests rising and falling in unison as you come down, the electric current pulsing through your bodies fading into a comfortable hum.

Your skin is still buzzing, head befuddled, when Jeongguk presses a few lazy kisses across your shoulder—as if to ground you, to bring you back from the constellations he's painted behind your eyes.

“You were so good, baby.” He commends, smoothing the hair at the side of your profile and you can't help the soft, but dopey smile that breaks out onto your face then.

“I've been dreaming about that for forever.” You murmur, submitting to the assault of his lips. Your boyfriend chuckles in return, nuzzling your neck as he commits the smell of your skin, an alluring scent of sex and lavender, to his memory.

“Me too,” He hums, thumb gliding gently across the contour of your waist. Your sensitive pussy throbs at the light touch, rousing from the stimulation; which only reminds you of the unpleasant remnants of arousal coating your inner thighs.

As if reading your mind, Jeongguk whispers against your skin. “Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”

He eyes your figure carefully, waiting for any hint of consent before he leaves you here alone.

You manage to muster a nod and then feel his dick slip from your entrance a second later, withdrawing in a way that makes you cringe and leaves you feeling oddly empty.

“I’ll be right back.” He assures, his lips quickly, but comfortingly, brushing against your hairline. Thereafter, from your peripheral, you see Jeongguk detach himself from your side, pulling his pants back up as he disappears into the bathroom to do what he does best—take care of you.

In the meantime, you resist the temptation to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a hefty load of cum leaking down your thighs. Every muscle in your body feels relaxed, those sparks from earlier sizzling down into sleepy, smoky remnants that weigh you down. Mind a dazed mess, not sure of how much time has passed, you almost give in—the slumber you so desperately sought out at the beginning of the night finally settling into your bones—when Jeongguk walks back into the living room. He's changed into a pair of briefs and is carrying a wet cloth, as well as, a small tube of ointment.

Your body instantly perks up, a little rejuvenated by his presence.

“Hey,” Jeongguk murmurs once he's back in your close vicinity, fingers brushing against your cheeks as he peers down at you with a soft smile.

“Hey,” You tiredly grin back, pointing a finger at the items in his hand. “Those for me?”

Jeongguk hums, draping an arm around your waist to steady you. If you had the energy to freshen yourself up, you honestly would but currently, you can barely keep your eyes open. So instead you lean on your boyfriend—figuratively and literally—clutching onto his biceps as he brings the warm cloth to your nether regions. You hiss a little at the contact, still feeling delicate down there, but Jeongguk handles you with a gentle mindfulness that makes your heart swell. Makes you think back to a little over an hour ago, when you were alone in bed unable to fall asleep because he wasn't there.

And sometimes it worries you. How much you need him. How much something as simple and basic as sleep, needs the warmth of his touch to make its mark on you. How much you’ve grown to love him in the span of a few months, your life endlessly orbiting around him like the earth to the sun. How much the deepest crevices of your soul, where the vile fear of abandonment and instinctual desire to run, relinquish themselves to the light of Jeongguk’s unconditional love.

You watch him toss the used washcloth to the side before unscrewing the top of the ointment. Sigh; as his fingers, tender with purpose, apply dabs of vitamin K salve to your hips where the marks from his fingertips are starting to surface. “Shit, I'm so sorry baby.” He apologizes, the raspy, hushed tone of his voice communicating how guilt-ridden he feels. “I didn't mean to be this rough.”

And, you've never known a love like this. One that rustles through your hair like the wind on the drive down to your parents. One that meets you in the dead of winter between classes, wrapped up in coats and scarves, and coffee as the snow falls. One that kisses you goodnight, hands cupping your cheeks while the street lamps flicker outside.

One that dresses all your bruises.

It makes you want to run in the opposite direction every now and then, fleeing until you forget that you ever knew it could be this good, this safe.

But, staring at Jeongguk and the careful, intricate way he's massaging ointment onto all your black-and-blues, you bury these trepidations away, laying them to rest in the one place they belong—the past.

Because yes, you’ve never had this sort of love before—the seriousness, the commitment.

The emptied-out drawers for your clothes.

The spare toothbrush at his place.

The conversations of a future together—the clear line being crossed from fling to forever.

Even though it's a concept so scary and unfamiliar, and foreign to you—you never want to let it go.

You never want to let him go.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook one shot #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook drabble #bts #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfction #bts au #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x y/n #bts jungkook #kpop #kpop imagines #bts oneshot

[qqueenofhades]

Do you think Biden's age is an overblown issue? It does to me because like, believe or not, we do intact have a system to take care of this, and all the times we've had to use if before have worked

If Biden dies, Harris takes over

If Biden deteriorates to the point of being unable to perform his duties (personally I consider this unlikely but I digress), Harris invokes the 25th

If Biden feels he can no longer perform his duties he steps down and let's Harris take over

Which is more than I can say for trump or the lunatic he'll choose for a vp

And that last point about Biden stepping down is important, Biden's sharper than people give him credit for, I do think he intends to serve a full term if reelected, but I do think he's also considered the possibility of being reelected, serving a year or two in that term, and then stepping down and letting Harris take over

Of course the thing with Harris is people right now are transparently trying to do to her what they did to Hillary leading up to 2016, and infuriatingly, people either don't see it or they're falling for it again!

It's the most fucking overblown thing ever, and represents the usual insane double standard. The media mentions Biden's age ALL THE TIME, and yet doesn't mention that Trump is just three years younger at 77, demonstrably in far worse physical shape, and clearly on the express train to senility. Whereas Biden is fit, active, bikes, works out, and otherwise is fine. Is he old? Yes. Who cares? He knows how to do the job and he is certainly a hell of a lot healthier than say, Mitch McConnell (81), who has openly frozen up on TV twice and plainly is not well. If it was Biden doing that ONCE, let alone twice, the media would be howling nonstop bloody murder. McConnell? Eh. Footnote.

Also, a lot of the scaremongering about Biden's age is directly related to scaremongering about Harris. If you vote for him and then he doesn't finish his term for whatever reason, A WOMAN OF COLOR WILL BECOME PRESIDENT AND BE IN CHARGE OF THIS COUNTRY!!!! That is the underlying message. Of course there is a system that handles it if the president, God forbid, should happen to die in office. But Oh Noes It's Scary Female Brown Kamala. Do you want to risk your vote for Biden knowing that ____SHEEEEE_____ might end up finishing his term in some capacity!?!?! She is scary! And brown! And female! And brown!!! We can't let her be in charge!!!

Anyway, yeah. It's total BS, and the fact that the media is fanning it as hard as they can means that they can't think of any way to attack Biden on substantive policy or any other legitimate grounds. So they'll just go after the age thing nonstop, and cross their fingers that it works. Which if it did, would mean ending democracy for realsies this time, but as long as they make money, who cares!

#short-wooloo #ask #politics for ts

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

My Top 10 Fics Of 2023

So, because it is the 'wrapped' time of year where everyone looks back on their year through playlists and other types of stats - I thought that I would look back on my year through something completely nonobjective and based on exactly 0 data - my favourite fics I have written this year that are based completely on my personal enjoyment of them.

Last year, I did something similar to this where I counted down the top ten fics based completely on data - how many notes each fic had gotten on tumblr. But most of the posts were shorter fics that I hadn't spent a lot of time working on that I wasn't very proud of. (Like the fact that my current most popular fanfic on my sideblog for fanfiction is the shortest in word count.) So I have decided to go over the fics that are the most popular in my heart - countdown style.

This year I have written 39 different fics and I have written over 395,000 words, and these are my favourite fics that I have written.

Honorable Mentions:

Black Suit - Emily Prentiss x Fem!Reader (2,900 words). One of the most well-rounded fics I have written in such a short word count. And just - look at her.

My Bleeding Heart - Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (3,400 words). I have never used Death Eaters as the basis for angst in a fic and I had so much fun with it. Plus the kidfic fluff at the end was really fun too.

IFHY (I Fucking Hate You) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (8,100 words). So @holy-minseok made a post about how there isn't enough fics with reader characters that aren't nice and sweet and I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Because I have so many fics with rude, toxic readers and this is absolutely one of them. This reader is a Grade A Bitch and that's a huge reason why I had so much fun writing it.

Better Than Sleeping - Jason Todd x Fem!Reader (5,300 words). This is some of the best quality smut I have written this year, hands down.

The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (8,200 words). I love writing fics based on specific episodes of a show, and this definitely helped to fulfil my whump quota for the year.

Sweet Revenge - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader (16,200 words). This is a fic that definitely converted me from a hardcore Abby girl into an Ellie girl. I am very proud of it. (And eventually I became an EllAbs girl, as god intended.)

Free Use Day - Poly!OG!Titans x Fem!Reader (14,300 words). This is probably my most epic and honorable of the honorable mentions. This is the first time in years that I have written such a long pwp, and it's written about some of my ult favs. So I fucking love it. (It came so, so close to making the top ten.)

(Now, onto the top ten.)

The Top Ten:

10. Dreaming Of You - Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Reader (31,300 words)

You and Gar have been best friends for a long time. Nothing could disrupt the harmony of such a perfect friendship. Nothing except maybe… your usually predictable powers going haywire and somehow showing you all of his heated daydreams about you. But he couldn’t possibly have romantic feelings for you. He couldn’t possibly want anything more than your close platonic friendship and the occasional steamy fantasy. Right? Gar Logan x Fem!Mute!Powered!Reader. Best Friends to Lovers. Smut and (Slight) Angst. Set during Season 2.

At first I wasn't even sure if I should put this one on the list, because it's technically a re-post, but I was like fuck it, I make the rules here. And the reason it's at 10 is because technically I wrote most of this in 2021 originally (though it feels like longer ago than that omg), but this year I heavily updated the fic, including writing some new scenes for it that flesh it out very nicely. To me, this is everything a good re-post should be. It cleans up what was already there and amazing about the fic and it enhances it so much.

I loved the concept of this fic from its core, and now I get to be so, so proud of the way I have enhanced it years later. To me, this will always be my core Gar fic (as much as I will always write more for him) - and it is something I am truly, genuinely proud of. If you love Gar and you love smutty fantasies involving him, I highly recommend checking this fic out.

9. No Brainer - Derek Cho x Fem!Reader x Melanie Cross (Mayhem (2017)) (7,100 words)

When the ID-7 Virus, aka the Red Eye Virus hits Towers and Smythe Consulting, it throws the entire office building into chaos. With a mandatory quarantine from the CDC in action, that chaos builds in on itself, and somehow, you, Derek, and Melanie get everything that you want. aka You have something Derek and Melanie need. Derek and Melanie have something you want. You all agree to make an exchange, and everyone ends up more than happy. Derek Cho (Steven Yeun) x Fem!Reader x Melanie Cross (Samara Weaving). Co-Works to Lovers. Smut. Based on the film Mayhem from 2017.

This is one of my personal favourite fics of mine that I believe very few people following me have ever read. I absolutely love writing fics based on random one-off horror movies - I have way more in my drafts, and one of my goals for 2024 is to complete and post more of them. But one night I was laying in bed and I randomly watched this film because I knew Steven Yeun was in it. I had seen a lot of clips of him covered in blood and yelling, and I found him really hot in those clips, so I knew that I would enjoy the film. And I absolutely fucking did. Not just based on his hotness, but just - the entire film was so, so enjoyable.

Also, the ID-7 Virus, a fictional sickness that lowers your inhibitions (something that is shown in the film to work like sex pollen) is the perfect basis for a fic. So I literally started writing this on my phone before I had even finished watching the film. And I posted it a few days later. I think it's just pure fun. One of my favourite things to write about is a healthy combination of horror and sex, and this is definitely toeing the line perfectly in my opinion. If you haven't seen the film, I highly recommend it - watch it, and then come back and read this fic.

8. My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader (9,600 words)

Ellie confronts your abuser, and after years of torment, you finally feel free. Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader. Strangers to Lovers. Hurt and Comfort.

This is a fic that is very close to my heart. Not only is named after a tragically underrated Fall Out Boy B-Side, one of my favourite songs ever, but it is a fic about conquering the abuse of a family member - and when I wrote this, it was coming from a place of the utmost sincerity.

I am someone who has experienced abuse from a family member, and it felt so entirely empowering to write this - to write about someone coming to your rescue so honestly. Someone rescuing you out of pure want, not because it's an obligation or a burden. But because they are compelled by their own morals and they feel that your abuse is a cruel injustice against the world. This and the companion fic I wrote for Abby with a similar storyline are two of the most important fics that I have written this year.

7. Ghosting - Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader (3,700 words)

Mike has been in love with you for as long as he can remember. For about as long as the two of you have been best friends. He always thought he would have more time to work up to confessing those big, dangerous feelings for you - until something more dangerous swooped in and stole any time he had left with you. Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader. Star-Crossed Lovers. Pure Angst. Set during the events of the movie (and features spoilers for the plot).

I feel like this list would be incomplete if I didn't pick at least one of the FNAF fics that I wrote (and two of them ended up on here). With how much it was delayed, it was actually wild to see the FNAF Movie actually come to life before our very eyes, and it was amazing to actually write some fics about it. This is the first time (in a very long time) that I have written pure angst with no sense of fluff at the ending, and it was actually so much fun - it's fun to give into the darker side of a fic, and to write about the most torturous human emotions with absolutely no relief.

Also, I think dying in someone's arms (especially holding your lover or your would-be lover) is such a compelling trope and I loved writing about it. This was so much fun for me to write, and it was something so interesting to explore aside from the usual smut that I write.

6. From Your Lips - Jennifer Jareau x GN!Reader (3,000 words)

After JJ is attacked by dogs on the Hankle farm, everyone is busy worrying about Reid’s missing status, but you take the time to check on JJ and try your best to calm her flustered mind. Jennifer Jareau x Gender Neutral Reader. Friends with Benefits. Smut and Angst. Set during Season 2, Episode 15.

This year, I had another large foray into the Criminal Minds fandom, and I wrote a JJ fic for the first time. And just in general, I am so proud of this fic. I think even for a short fic, it has such a great essence - again, I love setting fics during specific episodes, and I found it so fun to play around with the religious imagery and the religious themes already in this episode, as well as the imagery of rabid dogs.

To me, this is what truly makes fanfiction great - taking details of the canon, chewing them up like bubblegum and then adding something else in to make them your own. I had so much fun writing this fic, 10/10.

5. Love From The Other Side (aka The Golf Club Fic) - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader (5,600 words)

Abby kills the man that has been haunting your nightmares for years. You find it only fitting to give her a proper reward. Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader. Established Relationship. Smut. Set during The Last of Us Part II. (aka - the fic where Abby fucks the reader's pussy with the golf club that she used to kill Joel.)

So, as you will notice with this fic and the next one, 2023 was the year I truly said fuck it. There used to be a time when I was afraid to admit my weirder kinks and fantasies (like, I used to be afraid to even say that I read A/B/O), but then I realized that this is the freak-nasty website. And way too many people are shy. So I must be the one to provide the freak-nasty fics.

This is a fic I had in mind since the very first time I watched TLOU2 gameplay. And originally, it was going to be a simple, purely pornopraphic fic about Abby fucking the reader with the golf club - but as I was writing it, it turned into something that I find oddly beautiful. And (again, just like with the next fic) I find that writing about kinks in long-term relationships, especially the kind of relationships that have come to be co-dependent - it's like writing this toxic, cathartic poetry.

It's writing about two people who need each other but can be so horrible for each other - and it is one of my favourite things to write about because it's so damn interesting. This was a slay, and generally awesome because it was getting out an idea that's been in my head for years.

4. Damn The Man, Save The Empire - Vanessa Shelly x GN!Reader (6,100 words)

Vanessa has always taken care of you. Since the two of you were kids, she has put her neck on the line for you, and you rarely knew how to return that epic kindness. One night, while both of you are raw and on-edge, the dark cloud of your strange past looming over both of you nearly swallows both of you whole - and once again, Vanessa is right there, taking care of you. (Dark)Dom!Vanessa Shelly x Sub!Gender Neutral Reader. Toxic Co-Dependent Relationship. Smut and Angst. Takes place before the main timeline of the film (features spoilers for the movie).

Again, like I said with the previous fic - this was one of my favourite fics to write because it is so delightfully unhinged. I really enjoy exploring toxic relationships through fiction because - for one, writing healthy, functioning relationships is not always interesting. And there is something so beautifully dark and poetic about writing two people who have grown into each other like twisted tree branches and need each other, but are so bad for each other.

And this year I have been exploring gender neutral smut a lot more. I used to always write fem reader smut as my default, but I have been having a lot of fun with the creativity of writing smut without describing the reader's body in detail. I love coming up with metaphors and describing around the body parts. I find it to be a fun creative challenge. Anyway - this was a lot of fun to write, and I highly recommend it if you enjoy reading darker fics.

3. Lessons For A Genius (Lesson One) - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (17,200 words)

What could a certified genius possibly have to learn from someone like you? Turns out - a hell of a lot.  And the real ‘teaching’ started when your graphic explanations of slang toward Spencer for the sheer shock value of it turned into something a lot more… hands on.  Sub!Spencer Reid x (BAU)Dom!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Friends with Benefits. Smut. Set during early Season 2.

I feel like it would be a miss to make this list without mentioning a fic that I obsessed over for two weeks straight - a fic that drove me insane in the best way. Of course, there is also the sequel, but I personally prefer the first lesson. This fic has been brewing in my mind for a very long time, because it is painfully obvious to me that Spencer (in the early seasons) is an awkward virgin, and I have always wanted to ruin him.

This fic is a lot of my fantasies brought to life, and I feel like it's a really masterful painting of those fantasies - for once, without overly focusing on the murder mystery aspect of Criminal Minds fanfiction (which I have a tendency to get distracted by). I am really, really proud of this fic, and I know you guys enjoyed it. It is definitely a highlight of my writing this year.

2. Emergency Contact - Jason Todd x GN!Reader (10,500 words)

After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you’re both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it’s very stubborn on both your parts. Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.

This is a fic I have talked about a lot recently, because I have been working on the sequel. (I was hoping to get the sequel finished and posted before the end of December, but it's gonna be a longer fic, so it's looking like it's gonna be one of the first fics of January instead.) Anyway - to me, this is by far one of my best fics and one of my most important fics of 2023. This was battling for the top spot.

But even if it's second place, I am so incredibly proud of this fic. I think it's beautifully written, I am incredibly proud of the literary references I worked in with The Great Gatsby - especially because I feel like Jason would be the type to read Gatsby and compare himself to someone tragic and doomed like Gatsby (he would soo compare himself to Gatsby, especially because he was also a poor kid who was randomly sponsored by a rich man who saw potential in him). Overall, I just had a very distinct vision when writing the fic, and that vision came to life. And I really, really hope that my vision comes to life in the sequel too.

1. King For A Day - Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (22,400 words) 

You have always had a special relationship with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the one and only Harry Potter. When you set out to help them find and destroy Lord Voldemort’s Horcruxes, it seems that your intimate knowledge of them is the one thing keeping them together - until the unique dynamic shifts, thanks to one of those pesky pieces of dark magic. Angry voices carry, and it turns out - moans of pleasure do too. Poly!Golden Trio x Fem!Reader (Fem!Reader x Harry Potter x Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger). FWB to Poly Lovers. Smut (with a slight bit of Angst). Set during Deathly Hallows.

And finally, we get to my favourite fic of the year!!

So, I'm gonna be honest, a huge reason that this fic gets the top slot is because of my nostalgia for Harry Potter. This year was the first time in a long time that I have written Harry Potter fanfiction, and it felt like a reawakening of my soul. I was genuinely happy, and I was spending time enjoying concepts and characters that I have not thought about for a long time.

This fic in particular, I feel like I have been working on it for years in my mind. This fic is a culmination of all my thoughts about these characters, all my time in the Harry Potter fandom, and generally, I am so, so proud of it. I am proud that my love for Harry Potter has come to fruition in this form - a poly smut fic, something that is just so me.

Overall - I had such a great year chasing fic ideas that make me happy, despite the popularity of the characters or the fandoms, and I encourage you guys to spend 2024 doing the same. Cheers!

#sundrop speaks #fanfiction #gar logan x reader #emily prentiss x reader #draco malfoy x reader #abby anderson x reader #jason todd x reader #ellie williams x reader #spencer reid x reader #mike schmidt x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #vanessa shelly x reader

[ssaluv-a-lot]

Nasty Ol' Mind

Fandom: They Cloned Tyrone

Pairing: Fontaine x blackfem!reader

Rating: 18+, Oral (fem receiving)

Twice. He'd only laid eyes on your fine ass twice. Fuck was he doing thinking about you when you barely spared him a glance. You knew who he was. You knew what he did and you wanted no parts.

But he couldn't stand it. He needed to see you, to know you.

So what if he lingered in the liquor store aisles a little longer than usual even though he knew he got the same shit every time. And if he looked at you on the other side of said aisle more than he did the snacks in front of him, who was gonna say shit?

He got so caught up in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed you moved closer to his side of the aisle until the sweet scent of vanilla flooded his nose.

" 'xcuse me." You mumbled timidly as his frame took up most of what space the aisle had. His gaze lingered on you a little bit longer than what was considered appropriate.

God, he was so fine. Your thoughts betrayed your need to get the fuck out of here the moment he stepped in the store. You just wanted a peek that's all. You didn't expect to want to be near him so damn much.

"Shit, my bad, baby." Fontaine took a step back, as you squeezed between him and the bags of chips, your ass brushing the front of his sweatpants. Your scent lingered and it took everything in him not to sniff it all up like a weirdo.

His low tone sent a shiver down your spine and you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you approached the register and set your things on the counter.

"That it for you?" The cashier asked. You began to nod until you felt him behind you. He tossed up a pack of gum and a bottle of liquor.

Your head whipped around in confusion as Fontaine was already counting the cash. "Whatchu doin'?"

"Don't worry bout it." He tried and failed to fight the smirk tugging on his lips as he handed the cashier enough cash to cover you and his stuff. "Just stick around f'me. Wanna talk to you."

And if you followed him outside and into his Pontiac, it was nobody's business.

His car rumbled to a stop in a scarce parking lot and after rolling a blunt and lighting it up, he spoke up. "You know me?"

"Yeah." You crossed your arms over your chest as you watched him take a drag from the blunt and blow the smoke out the car window. "What did I do?"

"Nothin'." He chuckled, his grills gleaming with his smile. A moan so quiet he barely heard it, slipped from your lips as you slumped in your seat.

Another beat of silence as the smell of weed flooded your senses. "What you got me all the way out here for?"

"Wanted to see you...up close." His eyes rack over your body, making you squirm. You were wet for sure. Shit, who wouldn't be. "Got somethin' on ya mind?"

Just a shake of your head in response. "You?"

"You don't wanna know.."

"Try me."

So what if you ended up sprawled out in the back of his car, listening to your ankles as his head sank between the folds of your sopping pussy. Bass boosted R&B flooding the speakers and vibrating the seat as his thumb rubbed tight circles of your clit.

His beard was nice and wet with your two orgasms as he worked you towards a third.

"Fuuuuck, Fontaine!" Your head dropped against leather seats as he hummed against your cunt.

"Go on, say that shit.." His lips wrapped around your clit as his fingers fucked you into oblivion.

"'m gonna cum daddy! Fuck!" Your legs slipped from the shaky grip of your hands and landed on his shoulders where he kneaded the soft flesh in his free hand.

"Mmmhmm." All control left your body as your orgasm crashed into you and gushed across his face.

His mouth never left you as your whines died on your tongue and you returned to Earth as intended. When he did emerge from your thighs, you couldn't help but giggle at the mess you made on his features.

#fontaine x black reader #they cloned tyrone #fontaine #john boyega #fontaine x reader #smut #first fic #new tumblog #x black reader #black writers #they cloned tyrone smut

[irkimatsu]

So I've got a request that may be odd but interesting. Reader/Husk where things start off with Husk being an Overlord and Reader a lowly sinner down on their luck, but after a long period of separation (things going sour, Alastor's doing, or whatever sounds best to you) they reunite and rekindle their relationship when Husk has lost everything and is working at the hotel, and Reader has risen the ranks to become an Overlord themselves. GN Reader is fine, thanks for your time!

Oh god help me I made this one angsty. I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted!

3.2k words (help), angst with a happy ending, SFW besides the usual swearing you expect from Hazbin fics. Reader finds Husk again after a decade apart, a tearful reunion is had, oh god help me

---

You stand in the middle of a grand ballroom, with a live band playing acoustic music and food and drink as far as the eye can see. Dozens of demons fill the hall, the most influential Sinners in the Pride Ring joined by their associates and servants.

It’s not the first time you’ve been to one of these gatherings, but it’s your first time here while on the other end of the leash.

You have to admit, it’s somewhat lonely here at the top. You’re not completely alone; like everyone else here, you’ve brought along your favorite contracted soul, who has just brought you a glass of champagne and earned a pat on his head for his troubles. But as you sip your drink, you can’t help but remember something with a smile.

He’d spit this out and ask where the scotch was…

It’s so strange not having his strong arm pinning you to his side. You can still see the charming expression on his face as he speaks with another Overlord, even as his tail waves as a warning to everyone who speaks to him. You know what that tail is saying without him needing to open his mouth.

“I’ll respect you if you respect me, but if you even think about trying anything with my pet, you’re dead.”

A lot of servants here are openly fearful or disdainful of their owners, but Overlord Husk never made you feel anything less than cared for. Sure, he had needs from you, but you enjoyed fulfilling those needs, especially knowing that he’d back down if you asked. He was cocky, spoiled, and reckless, but he adored you and always made sure to show it, both to you and to anyone who dared suspect that you were only a trophy he’d happily gamble away.

Then one day, he was just… gone. You woke up in his bed in the mansion like so many other mornings, and immediately you noticed that you couldn’t feel the faint bindings of his leash around your neck. You searched the mansion for him, but instead, you found Alastor reclining in Husk’s favorite lounge chair, sipping rye from one of Husk’s own glasses.

“Husker is no longer in need of your services, my dear. You’d best be on your way.”

He wouldn’t explain things any further than that, and you never heard from Husk again. What happened to him? Why would he just leave you like that, after years of calling you his most precious treasure…?

You need to shake those thoughts from your head before you have a breakdown in the middle of the party, so you join a nearby group of Overlords you can’t identify by name, intending to nod along and pretend to participate in their conversation. They appear to be discussing that rehabilitation hotel that Lucifer’s daughter started up. You continue sipping your drink and listening, hoping they don’t notice your silence.

“I still think it’s a foolish idea…”

“They did a wonderful job fighting off those exorcists, though. Imagine, we may never have to worry about another extermination thanks to that hotel!”

“Did you see any of the battle?”

“Oh, heavens, no, I never dare leave my shelter during an extermination, and I certainly don’t want to watch such a thing on TV!”

“Well, I caught some of it on the news, and would you believe, I could have sworn I saw the Gambling Demon fighting with the rest of Charlie’s crew!”

You try your damnedest to hide your shock at that news. At the very least, you manage to avoid dropping your glass.

“The Gambling Demon! Staying at Charlie’s hotel?! Surely you’re mistaken! And here I thought Alastor had him killed!”

“Oh, he looks different to be sure. He’s gotten a lot thinner, a lot scruffier. But how many tuxedo cats with giant wings do we have flying around in Hell? It had to have been him!”

“What do you suppose he’s doing in that place? Surely that old drunk doesn’t think Heaven would ever take him?”

“What kind of people does Heaven take, anyway…?”

As the discussion drifts away from the Gambling Demon, your attention drifts away from the discussion.

You’ll need to drop by that hotel sometime soon.

—

It takes you a few days to get away for long enough to stop by the hotel. Who knew Overlord business could be so exhausting? No wonder Husk needed your help with stress relief so often. But finally, after days of wondering, you find yourself standing outside the doors of the recently rebuilt Hazbin Hotel.

Surely it was all rumors, a cruel game of telephone meant to get your hopes up before harshly striking them down. You wouldn’t find him here. Not here, of all places. As far as you know, he’s dead.

But still, you have to know…

With a deep breath, you steel your nerves and push the door open. You’ve barely stepped into the lobby when a cheerful voice starts calling out to you.

“Oh! Hey there!” A group of demons are sitting in a circle of chairs, and all of them are now staring at you. Most of them are strangers, but you do recognize the one who’s enthusiastically waving at you as Princess Charlie herself.

You also recognize the winged cat who is currently staring at you with wide eyes and mouthing something inaudible. He’s much thinner, unhealthily so, and he doesn’t appear to be taking nearly as much care of his fur as he used to… but it can’t be anyone else, can it?

“You’re just in time!” Charlie says as she launches out of her seat and runs up to you. “We were just starting today’s trust exercise! Would you like to join us? It’s a perfect way to see what the Hazbin Hotel is all about!”

She’s speaking so quickly you can barely follow her.

“Oh, right, introductions! My name’s Charlie! What’s your name?”

You tell her your name, and she squeals with glee as she takes your hand. “Come on, come sit with us! Let me introduce you to everyone! This is Angel Dust, and Niffty, and Husk…”

You don’t remember any of the names she says after Husk’s. It really is him. The instant you lock eyes with him, you can’t look away. He’s frozen stiff, only the slight twitches of his tail showing that he hasn’t turned to stone.

“...and we have plenty of open rooms! What size bed do you like? Do you smoke? I know it’s hard to quit, and we’ll help you with that, but before then I can make sure you get a room with a balcony-”

“Charlie!” A girl with long white hair laughs and grabs Charlie’s hand to pull her back down into her seat. “Calm down! I think you’re freaking them out!”

“Sorry, Vaggie, sorry!” Charlie says. “It’s just always so exciting to see a new guest!”

“I don’t think it’s Charlie’s fault,” says the pink spider sitting on Charlie’s other side. “Seems like they just got distracted by our bartender. You like him, don’tcha? I know he’s cute, but don’t try pettin’ him, he bites.”

Husk must be stunned if he’s not reacting to a joke about his cat form. You’ve seen him punch other Overlords for that.

A bartender, though… that part doesn’t surprise you at all. But why here?

“Did you want to get a room set up first?” Charlie asks you. “I can help you pick one out, then we can come do the trust exercise! Oh, I can’t wait to get to know you!”

“I’ll take care of ‘em,” Husk says as he rises to his feet with a grunt.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Husk! I can-”

“I’m the concierge here, ain’t I? Takin’ people to their room is part of my job.”

“Normally you complain when we ask you to check people in,” Vaggie says.

Husk shrugs at Vaggie’s observation as he heads toward the hotel’s bar. He grabs a box from beneath the bar and shakes it. “So, what size bed? You want a balcony?”

“Um… king?” you say, not sure if it’s an option. “Balcony is fine.”

“Mmm…” he stirs the contents of the box around with his claws for a moment, then takes out a key card and reads it. “Right, here’s one. Fifth floor.” He puts the box back where he found it, then pulls out a book and a pencil. He flips through the book for a specific page, then scribbles something inside it. 

He writes your full name perfectly, despite you not saying it directly to him.

Once that’s taken care of, the book also returns to where it came from. “C’mon.” He heads to the stairwell, and you follow.

What should you say to him? Should you say anything? Should you give him the first word? He doesn’t appear to be taking it as the two of you silently climb the stairs.

You reach the fifth floor, and your hotel room, without either of you saying a thing. “This is it.” He swipes the card and opens the door for you. “Look good?”

It’s a fully decorated room, with potted plants and wall art and a comfortable looking bed. It’s not entirely to your taste, but you can tell whoever designed it took great care with it.

“Don’t mind the art, you can replace that if you want. You might be staying for a while, so make it yours.”

“All right… thank you.”

Over a decade, and that’s all you can say to him?

You expect him to leave you to get settled in, but he keeps standing there, propping the door open. “Hey, uh… do I… know you, from somewhere?”

Your heart gives a single, heavy thud. “I think so… if you’re who I think you are.”

“Can I come in?” he asks. “Talk to you for a minute?”

“What about Charlie?” you ask.

“She’s patient,” is all he says before walking into the room. You follow him in and shut the door behind you. He’s standing in the middle of the room now, not looking at you. He seems to be at a loss of what to do with himself.

“...it’s really you,” he finally says, still facing away. “Before you said your name to Charlie, I thought… it couldn’t be…”

“Husk…” is all you can say. How long has it been since you’ve said that name? It feels so wonderful rolling off your tongue. At the sound of his name, he finally turns around to face you.

“...I missed hearing that…”

Your head is in conflict over what you should do now. Hug him and promise not to lose him again? Slap him and ask where the hell he’s been all this time? Break down crying, overwhelmed with thoughts of how you just spent the last ten years assuming he was dead?

“What happened…?” is all you can manage to say, without moving an inch.

His ears tilt down and he grumbles to himself as he grips his arms. “I didn’t want… didn’t mean… I’m sorry. He wouldn’t… I couldn’t…” he takes a deep breath. “...a lot’s happened since the last time I saw you.”

“Can you tell me about any of it?” you ask.

“Can we sit?” he asks in return. You nod in agreement, and the two of you sit on the edge of the hotel bed.

“How much do you know already?” Husk asks.

“Not much,” you say. “I went to sleep by your side one night, and then I never saw you again. That’s all.”

“Do you remember what I told you that night?” he continues.

“That you had a big meeting the next morning, but that I shouldn’t worry about it and you’d be home soon…” The gears start turning in your head. “What happened at that meeting…?”

“I lost,” Husk says. “I lost everything to Alastor. The money, the casinos, the mansion, the staff… even my own soul. A few bad hands, and that was it.” 

You once again remember seeing Alastor that day, and your hand goes up to your throat. “Did you lose me to…?”

“I didn’t lose you to anyone!” Husk insists. “I promised I’d never bet your soul, didn’t I? I didn’t bet it then, either. He didn’t want me keeping you, said a pet didn’t need a pet of his own… but there was no fucking way I was letting him have you. Letting you go before he took everything from me was the best thing I could do for you.”

“And you couldn’t tell me?” Tears are welling in your eyes. Are you relieved? Angry? Where has he been?

“He wouldn’t let me!” Husk says, defensive. “Wouldn’t even let me near any of the property I used to own! I couldn’t tell anyone from those days what happened! He wanted everyone to think he’d killed me!” He needs a few breaths to calm himself down. You barely recognize your old Overlord in his current face; he looks so lost and tired. “Believe me, I didn’t just give up. I looked for you when I could, but I didn’t know where to begin, especially when I couldn’t even get into my own casinos anymore. If I had any idea where you were, I swear I would have found you…”

If he still doesn’t know where you’ve been, then clearly he forgot to check somewhere vital. “Have you been keeping an eye on the Overlords recently?”

“Like I want anything to do with that fucking group ever again,” he spits out. “I still hate how I lost everything, but I know it’s for the best that I got out of there with some dignity intact… wait.” He sits up and stares at you. “Is that where you’ve been?”

You smile and nod. He chuckles in response and leans back on his hands.

“Heh… should’ve known you’d find another Overlord to take care of you. I just hope they’re good to you… I may not be as powerful as I once was, but I’ll still kill anyone who tries messing with you. I ain’t breaking my promises to you, not even now.”

“Husk…” you say with a shake of your head. “I’m not on anyone’s leash anymore. Not since I lost you.”

“Eh?” He raises a large, red eyebrow. “Then what are you doing, hanging around with Overlords?”

“Well… I am one now,” you said. “After you left, I had to fend for myself. I started a business, made connections with the people you used to know, and now… here I am.”

“No shit… you as an Overlord,” he says. “Not surprised you managed to climb that high, if that’s what you wanted. I just hope you’re playing fair. Not like some of the other scumbags with that title.”

You can’t help but wonder if he’s including himself in “scumbags”.

“Of course I play fair,” you say. “I learned a lot from you. It’s ruthless work, but it doesn’t mean I have to mistreat people for it.”

“Good to hear,” he says. “Good to know some people down here don’t let power completely fuck ‘em up. What kinda souls you own?”

“I try to make fair deals,” you say. “Hiring people to work in factories, using contracts to protect company secrets, that sort of thing. I think my people are happy where they are. I try to make it less awful than it could be, at least.”

“Got any pets?” Husk continues.

“Pets…? Oh.” It takes a moment for you to catch his meaning. “No, no! I’m not interested in that sort of thing. Everyone just works for the company. No personal relationships.”

“Huh… shame. Having a pet is a lot of fun. Getting to spoil ‘em, seeing ‘em smile when you’re around… pissing off other Overlords who don’t understand why their souls hate them so damn much, but your pet can’t keep their paws off of you…” He sighs and closes his eyes. “It was nice, having you by my side. I regret a lot of shit from back then… but I don’t regret having you. …at least, as long as you don’t regret it. Was I good to you back then…?”

“You were amazing,” you assure him as you lean against him. “Amazing enough that… that I can’t see myself with a pet of my own. I don’t belong on that side of the leash… and I don’t belong on anyone else’s leash, either.”

“...you know I’m washed up,” he says. “I ain’t got shit left. No money, no influence, just a damn chain around my neck forcing’ me to do the bidding of a sadistic freak who thinks I’m an animal.”

“Husk…” You can’t help but hug him tight as you hear just what he’s been going through in your time apart.

“I can’t spoil you anymore. I can’t take you to parties, I can’t buy you expensive gifts… that shit’s over now. You’re staring at… well, you’re staring at a withered old husk.”

“Can you still sing to me?” you ask. “And dance with me? Perform tricks for me?”

“I… maybe?” he says. “I’m out of practice. Haven’t had a reason to do any of that for years.”

“But could you?” you repeat.

“I mean… I’d like to… I’ve missed it.” He smiles again, his eyes staring off into the distance. “I still remember how you’d smile when I sang your favorite love songs…”

“I always loved your voice,” you say. “I still remember what you sound like when you sing. I think about it sometimes…”

“Yeah?” he says. “...I think about it too. You smiling as I’d sing to you, and… and hold you…” You’ve been waiting ever since you leaned in, but finally, his arms are wrapped around you. “And tell you that… no matter how much I lost… I’d never lose you…”

You never saw Overlord Husk cry before. Such a prideful man surely couldn’t cry. But as he rests his chin atop your head, you can hear his breathing start to hitch.

“I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you assure him as you nuzzle his neck, just the way he loved all those years ago. A purr assures you that it hasn’t changed.

“If I knew that day… that when I left, I wouldn’t be coming back… I would have stayed in just a little longer.” He rests his claw on your chin and tilts it up to look in your eyes. Now you can clearly see the tears pricking the corners of his own. “Would have at least kissed you goodbye…”

“You did kiss me goodbye,” you say. “That night, before we went to sleep, the last thing you did was kiss me…”

“...and I promised I’d be back,” he finishes. “I kissed you goodbye for a day. Not a decade.” His claws run down your face, just as gentle as ever. “Could I… do that now?”

“Don’t kiss me goodbye,” you say. “Just kiss me.”

He grants your wish, lightly placing his lips against yours. He finally lets his tears fall, but the way they stain your cheeks doesn’t make you pull away. If anything, they’re just another reminder for you that he’s here, along with his warmth in your arms and the sound of his soft moans vibrating against your lips as he keeps kissing you.

“Charlie…” you murmur. “Charlie’s waiting for us-”

“She’s patient,” he repeats as he pushes you down to the bed. “I’m sure she’ll understand me wanting some quiet time with an old friend.” He offers no further argument before resuming his kisses, and you have no further reason to protest.

“I love you, Husk,” you manage to whisper between kisses.

“I love you too, doll. Always have.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk talks to strangers #irk huskposts

[xiaoscarasimp]

Horny Drabble 2-Ribbons and Smut

Merry Christmas everyone ^^ I wanted to do a Christmas themed smut piece and this ended up being way longer than intended (but still short)

Cw: afab reader, biting, pet names, choking, degradation, etc etc MDNI pls

“Ah, shit, it's supposed to wrap around this way? No wait, this way?”

You were having problems trying to figure out how to wrap the purple ribbon around yourself; you were starting to look like a hot mess, almost falling over. There was supposed to be a bow on your front, across your chest and it was supposed to be wrapped around your torso, plunging down towards your crotch in a V shape, showing off your soon to be leaking pussy. The thought of seeing your boyfriend's reaction to your “present” to him was already making you excited.

You tried a few more times to wrap the ribbon around yourself, eventually settling for a bow on top of your head, a lacy purple bra and bow on your chest, and matching panties and stockings. There was supposed to be the ribbon around the stockings as well, but you got frustrated on trying to put it on. Waiting for Scaramouche to get home, you wrap up in a warm blanket because your torso was getting cold, despite the fireplace going in the background. The heat starts to make you sleepy and you drift off with thoughts of the long, long night with Scara.

An hour or two later, Scaramouche comes through the door, clearly exhausted from work. You wake up, still a bit groggy and greet him in the kitchen, blanket off, revealing your special Christmas outfit. At first his eyes went wide, then they settled on a lustful gaze.

“My, my,” He coos, pupils blown wide with lust. “What do we have here? My very own personal Christmas slut? Aww, y/n you shouldn't have.” Scaramouche comes over to you and tilts your head up with a finger running under your chin, staring deep into his deep indigo eyes. The storm of lust was just beginning.

“Merry Christmas!” You say cheerfully.

Scara picks you up and carries you to the bedroom princess style. He whispers into your neck how he wants to ravage his present, starting with your breasts. Your boyfriend nibbles at your neck while he is performing his ministrations, lapping at the skin to surely leave a mark. You're already a moaning mess and he hasn't even taken his clothes off; your neck has always been your weak spot.

He carefully, but roughly, puts you on the bed, climbing on top of you, a knee between your already drenched pussy. You moan once the knee hits it and attempt to grind on it, leaving a stain on his jeans. Removing the knee, Scaramouche leans down to kiss you enticingly,passionately, roughly. His lips were the electric jolt your body needed, one of the things your body craved. Thrusting his tongue in your mouth, you two perform a choreographed dance, him taking the lead, nibbling at your lips as you danced.

“Gods, you look so cute underneath me like this,” He temporarily paused his assault on your lips, cupping your face with a smile. Scara then went straight for your neck again, licking a stripe up one side, then kissing and biting down the other.

“S-scara,”you moan, overstimulated already.

“Shh, darling” He coos with a smirk on his face. “Let me have my fun.”

Scaramouche then makes his way down to your breasts, groping one while his tongue swirled around the nipple of the other. The way he was pulling and tugging on the sensitive bud, you swore that he was going to tear it off. Needless to say, you found a lot of pleasure in the pain.

“Please,” you beg. “Please just let me cum.” You were about to cum just from him sucking on your breasts.

“Ah-ah-ah” He tuts. “I need to savor my present and Christmas dinner.”

He dives down towards your pussy, licking it and teasing the clit. Scara thrusted his tongue in your needy, leaking hole, lapping up the juices that spilled forth from it. It’s his ambrosia; the sweetest nectar he could have ever tasted in his entire life. After savoring the taste for a little while he sits up, eyes half lidded, drunk on your pussy and finally lines himself up with your hole. He decides to take it agonizingly slow, plunging in centimeter by centimeter, allowing you to crave it all the more.

“Scara please, hurry up,” you whine.

Big mistake.

“Know your place,” He growls.

Scaramouche's hand finds purchase on your neck, squeezing gently at first. Noticing your reaction of pleasure, he squeezed a bit harder, your walls squeezing him in turn. He knew you liked to play rough sometimes, and tonight was about pleasuring not only himself but you are well.

He starts to thrust slowly at first, each stroke causing tantalizingly slow. It wasn't long before he was thrusting faster and at irregular pace that your hole started sucking him in even more, craving the member in its wake. The sounds of sex reverberate in the room, the plap plap of skin slapping together was making the experience all the better

“Scara,” you moan. “Faster, please!!”

“Such a needy slut for me,” Scaramouche breathes in your ear. “Do it. Cum on my cock like the whore you are.”

Few seconds later, you allow the coil in your stomach to come unwound, cumming on his member. Not long after he filled you up, leaving his dick in your hole to ensure not a drop was wasted.

“Merry Christmas, darling.”

#genshin #genshin smut #fanfic #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #christmas smut

[cookinguptales]

So… last week I made a vent post about an accessibility issue I’d had with some podcasters. I really only meant for the post to be read by my followers (who to my knowledge aren’t familiar with the podcast in question) which is why I put minimal tags on it and didn’t name the show.

But… the post got legs that I wasn’t expecting, and eventually a lot of people asked for the name of the show. I hadn’t intended on creating a whole big thing, so I was kind of reluctant, but I did see the logic in what they were saying — as a disabled woman myself, I would also want to know if I were supporting podcasters whose values did not align with mine. So I told people quietly in the notes that the show had been Old Gods of Appalachia.

Things… did not stay quiet.

Frankly speaking, one of the reasons why I don’t write as many posts about disability and ableism these days is because I got tired of people writing to me and telling me that people like me should be dead. So you can imagine what kind of fucking week I’ve been having since all that blew up. It’s been a very high symptom week, too, so I’m just. Very tired and stressed rn.

Personally, I’d be happy to never talk about it again and try to get back to my everyday life, but I did think it was important to note that the creators of OGOA must have gotten wind of the post, and they did contact me.

I won’t post the whole email here, but it was a good response. Since seeing my post, they’d tried getting in contact with the venue and realized very quickly why I’d been so frustrated. They ended up needing to go through their booking agent to get any kind of answers — so like, to the people who sent me a thousand messages telling me I was an entitled idiot who just needed to contact the venue, please know that none of you were remotely helpful.

Again, I’m not going to post the entire email, but I did think it was important to be fair and use the same platform that I used to vent to tell people that they seem committed to doing better in the future. They told me that they would be making sure that they have all this information going forward and that they would no longer allow it to be such a barrier to entry for disabled fans.

They invited me back to the show and… god, I’ll admit it. I really had to think about my answer. Not to sound ungrateful, but after the week I’ve had, even thinking about the podcast, the podcasters, and that damn live show has me stressed af. I had to really consider whether I even wanted to go.

But in the months since I first contacted them, they added a show that’s a lot closer to where I live, so rather than a weekend trip, I could just take a single bus. And it’s near one of my favorite Japanese restaurants in the city, so if all else fails, I can at least have some good katsudon. So I will be going to the Philadelphia show.

(Though for fellow disabled fans, Terakawa Ramen is not wheelchair accessible. 🙃 Most days I can do the two steps into the restaurant, but not always. Philly, I love and loathe you.)

Anyway, I wanted to reply to them before I made a post here, but… yeah. We’ve worked things out, I think. Only the future can tell what they'll do going forward but they do seem committed to doing better.

To me, there are always two goals when I write about disability and ableism. The first is that disabled people will feel seen. That is always, always my primary goal. It’s so easy for us to feel invisible and unimportant, and I always want to make you all feel seen, just like I want to feel seen. The second is that able-bodied folks will listen and learn and do their best to support their disabled peers in the future.

So… I think that my post managed to fulfill both of those goals. A lot of disabled people have reblogged that post and have talked about their own experiences, and a lot of them have explicitly said how much that post makes them feel seen. And the podcasters in question seem to have really reflected on their actions and seem to want to do better going forward.

So as incredibly fucking stressed out as I’ve been, I guess I can’t regret making the post. It’s always good to know that your words can have impact. The post has long since moved out of my friends circle so I assume it’ll just keep circulating and I’ll keep getting shitty anons and chat messages, but I’m just gonna focus on what good has come from it. I’m hopeful that my post will make life tangibly better for at least a few disabled people, and I’m encouraged by the fact that podcasters who I’d formerly liked do actually seem to want to do the work needed to improve.

And uh I’m not answering any more messages from people who just wanna swear at me. I’m tired. Leave me alone.

#it took me six hours to get out of bed today due to dizziness so like #forgive me if I'm not quite as coherent as usual lmao #it really has been a SUPER bad week as far as symptoms go #old gods of appalachia #OGOA #podcasts #cw: #ableism #disability

[whynoshadowheartyandere]

Deny Me Not Your Heart [Selunite!Shadowheart x F!Tav]

Intended Audience: Mature and up [Like that stops anyone]

Who be smoochin? : Shadowheart x F!Tav [can't write M!Tav even if you threatened my bloodline and I don't trust myself to maintain Gn!Tav] Really it's Durge but it's like, one singular reference.

Warnings: Remember the drabble idea where I said let them cook in the suffer-sauce for longer than a day and half a minute?, sad angst with a happy ending [I don't read fics to feel sad after either], lots of blood, description of injuries, lots of literal praying...

Word Count: 2,729 baebeee

Up, up and awayyyy

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Just one more day. One more evening and they wouldn't need these tents anymore. No more roughing it in the wilderness. There would be warmth and beds. Tonight was the last night they would need to scavenge or hunt for food.

So why did Shadowheart feel so uneasy?

Tav had become an excellent hunter for the small rogue she was. It had become a point of pride for her, so much so she had denied all offers of help. Again. Gale had offered to prepare a filling meal with the abundant supplies they had left over (their leader was somewhat of a food hoarder), but Tav had refused the offer as well. Insistent that they have a fresh meal to celebrate the occasion. They had survived the long journey to Baldur's Gate after all, and Shadowheart herself had turned her sights to a brighter future. Of course, there was plenty of reason to be excited.

She just wished she could have spent it with some wine and the woman she... cared for. Deeply.

Gods, she was foolish. They had quite the rapport, had been through so much and still she struggled to admit to herself the depth of her feelings. She had devoted so much of her heart to Shar. To the exclusion of all else, and nearly lost Tav because of it. It was a miracle that she accepted her feelings outside the mausoleum that night after the way she had brushed the rogue off for so long... Perhaps when they arrive in the Gate. Or maybe it would be best told after they defeat the brain?

"I don't like this" Wyll abruptly broke the silence, rising from the log they dragged in front of the fire. "It's been too long, she should have returned by now." He said, turning back toward his tent to gather his equipment.

Karlach rose to meet him. "I'll come with. Three eyes are better than one, eh?" Flashing that toothy grin that Wyll couldn't help but smile at.

Shadowheart was about to join them before he held up his hand. "It may be best you wait here in case she comes back, lest she see you missing and charge out after you." With a small smile.

Karlach gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and went for her equipment as well. Then the two disappeared into the darkness. She wrung her fingers and watched the flames lick at the wood before she thought better of herself and left for her tent. Anxiously sitting around did no one any favors, did it?

Time passed painfully slow from that moment on. There was no way something could have happened to Tav. From the way she could playfully sneak up on her in the evenings, her precise aim with her shortbow, that silver tongue, it was hard to fathom a situation their formidable leader couldn't handle. So long as it didn't involve cheese.

For reasons no one was privy to.

However much time has actually passed, she couldn't say. But that wasn't her concern.

The frantic shouting of two familiar voices was.

Karlach came barreling forward from the brush as Shadowheart stepped from her tent, followed by Wyll not long after. Both their eyes darting around camp. As soon as they met her eyes, Karlach set down a blood drenched, barely recognizable Tav on a bedroll Wyll had just laid out. "We found her like this! A wolf was sniffing around, but that was it!" The tiefling panted, stepping away to allow the cleric room to work.

Shadowheart urgently dove to her side and took in the situation. It was difficult to tell with all the blood, there were wounds all long her torso that left her leather armor in tattered ruins, a deep wound that nearly hid itself in her hairline if not for the blood pouring from it. But the most concerning was the dark, almost black looking blood from her waist that was staining the bedroll. "Hells below, what happened to you?" She breathed, hating the shudder in her voice as she easily tore open the now-worthless armor and channeled her magic and eased her hands on the body.

So much colder than she's ever felt it before.

Tav's chest was barely rising, the only indication she was clinging to life, if only by a thread. Somehow. "We tried potions, they just... stalled it." Wyll explained somberly.

"I'm healing what I can, but not fast enough. " Shadowheart hurried the words before shouting over her shoulder "Gale!" She bit her lip and turned back to Tav, finding some semblance of relief when some wounds on her chest finally stopped bleeding.

A figure knelt down beside Tav, opposite Shadowheart. Laying radiant hands on the bloody body as well. "Two healers are better than one, no?"

Her eyes shot up to meet the warm ones of Isobel. Who flashed her a small, reassuring smile and turned her attention to Tav. "Lady Selûne, in your silver light, I beseech your grace. Heal the wounds that afflict Tav, restore strength, and bring solace to their spirit. By your celestial touch, may pain fade, and well-being be renewed. Selûne, guide my hands in this sacred act..." The prayer would normally have made Shadowhearts' blood boil, but gods, she would pray to Shar again if it meant keeping Tav beside her.

She took a deep breath, guiding her own healing along Tav's body, and heaved it from her chest. "Moonw—Selûne, please... Bring her back to me."

Between hers and Isobel's hands, and the somber audience surrounding them, their healing could only go so far before both clerics' hands burned and stung from the magic they funneled well beyond their own limits.

But it had paid off. Tav's heart was beating a steady, though faint, rhythm. They would need bandages to protect some wounds they couldn't quite heal... but Tav was alive.

And unconscious.

With careful arms, Shadowheart lifted the rogue into her arms and gingerly carried her into her own tent. What she said to the others, she can't recall. It wasn't important, anyway. She sat beside her all night, sleepless. Her thumb occasionally tracing around the wound on her head.

Morning came, and Tav showed no signs of waking. She had hardly stirred at all, only her breathing kept Shadowheart's own heart calm. The group decided to wait another day before discussing anything further. It was only when evening came along, when Isobel offered to keep watch over her, that Shadowheart at last departed her lover's tent in search of a meal. As odd as the notion was, to trust a Selûnite...

To keep herself occupied, and to express her... gratitude to Selûne for her grace. Shadowheart took a knife to her hair, coloring it white with some dye she had asked Isobel for.

Compliments the next morning did little to soothe her anxious heart as she set eyes on Tav. Isobel had just changed her bandages when she noticed the former Sharran.

She only had to shake her head.

It took some planning and plenty of coordination, but they had procured a small wooden wagon from a grave tender's shed nearby. And as much as it made Shadowheart grimace seeing her very much alive lover laid on a device that had carried corpses, it was better than leaving her behind.

After the first ten or so odd stares they had gotten from passerby when they wheeled Tav through Baldur's Gate, Shadowheart gave up glaring at them. They had to fend off some shapeshifter from threatening some "blood-kin" she was going off about, narrowly avoided clowns from a nearby circus and she shoo'd off some overly insistent cheese merchant peddling his goods. Shadowheart only spent the last of her energy charming and playing the guard at the drawbridge. Shedding a few tears as she spun the sad tale of her heroic lover. Whether or not they were real, no one could tell. Not even herself.

She had to resist kicking the sodding thing aside once they reached the Elfsong. Wyll and Astarion had taken their turn to persuade the innkeeper to give them a large enough room for them all. The only complaint came from Astarion, unused to the need to beguile people after Tav had been doing it for so long.

Shadowheart ignored it as she lightly brushed Karlach aside and lifted Tav into her own arms... and an ever faint twitch to her features froze the cleric stiff. "You good?" Karlach questioned, tone edged with concern.

For a moment, she just stared down at the small rogue before shaking her head clear. Her weary eyes must be playing tricks on her. "Yes, of course." And she turned away before she could press further her.

Once she had established a room for themselves, she eased Tav onto the bed before stepping outside to gather their things and put them away. She didn't even take her dyed Dark Justiciar armor off before collapsing at her bedside.

Three days. Three godsdamned days without her. And it felt like a whole bloody year. Without her smile. Her laugh. The sound of her voice whispering sweet nothings into her pointed ears at night.

The tears that flowed now were very much real, there was no doubt. Her face leaned against the edge of the bed, careful to avoid wetting her bandages. "Please come back," she pleaded, voice barely above a whisper. "I can't do this without you." Her parents, the Absolute... They had only come so far because of Tav. She had only come so far because of Tav.

She hadn't realized how incredibly daunting all their goals seemed without her. Every goal they had set, every aspiration they had shared, now appeared larger than life without Tav. The enormity of it all struck her like a tidal wave, threatening to consume her in its overwhelming force. The once clear path they had envisioned together now looked like an insurmountable mountain, its peak obscured by clouds of fear and self-doubt. With each passing moment, a sense of helplessness washed over her. She had always been their anchor, their unwavering support, and now, without her, their ambitions seemed to drift aimlessly in a sea of uncertainty.

A hand touched her shoulder, jolting her upright. Isobel's tender eyes met hers. "Your friends are leaving to explore the city. I'm happy to watch over her until you return."

Shadowheart glanced behind her. Of course, she forgot to close the door. A rejection was on the tip of her tongue, but something stopped her. Something she never thought she'd ever ask for. "Could you... pray over her... like before?"

Isobel's features flickered with surprise, but not with judgement or even smugness. "Would it offend you if I said I already have been? While you've been away?" She joked with a wry smile. "I would love to, Shadowheart. May I?" Gesturing to the spot beside her on the floor.

She nodded, scooting toward the head of the bed to give the fellow cleric room beside Tav. Isobel knelt down, carefully taking Shadowheart's hand, and lifting their joined palms gently on Tav's belly before bowing her head, cueing Shadowheart to do the same. "My Lady of Silver, guide this slumbering soul. Illuminate the path through the shadows that bind Tav. In your gentle light, awaken her spirit, bringing clarity and renewed vitality..." Isobel prayed, for a while, in fact.

When at last she departed and left them alone, Shadowheart made a point to close the door behind her, the click of the latch faintly resounding in the room. After removing her armor, she climbed into bed and snuggled up beside Tav, reveling in the warmth of her body. Her fingertips feathered over her arm, just the way she remembers soothed the rogue. She closes her eyes and inhales, savoring the faint scent of vanilla that still lingers on her skin. Her voice quivering she softly whispers, "I love you dearly, you foolish, fragile thing," her eyes stinging anew with tears. "And if you don't wake up soon..." She hesitated, her voice catching in her throat, "...you might just find yourself becoming a reluctant connoisseur of rare, aged cheese..."

"Don't..." rasped a voice she doubted she'd hear again "you dare..."

In a flash, Shadowheart sat up and stared down with wide eyes... into the open, heavy but incredibly beautiful eyes... Open... and locking with hers. "Thank Selûne..." Shadowheart breathed, barely aware of her quivering lip. "Thank you, Selûne..." As she threw her arms around Tav as best she could in this position. Nestling her nose into her neck, placing one soft kiss after another against her skin.

"Who are you, and what did you do with the real Shadowheart?" Tav coughed, but even with how dry her throat was, it was clearly a playful jab.

Shadowheart pulled back, narrowing her eyes for a moment in her own teasing glare, before it broke into a soft laugh. Leaving the bed only to pour Tav a cup of water. "Funny you mention that..." she started as she turned back to the bed and sat on the edge beside her. Helping guide Tav into a semi-upright position and despite handing the cup to her, Shadowheart maintained a hand on it to ensure it didn't slip.

The longer Tav stared at her, the more her brows creased. "How long have I been out? The bed... your hair..."

"Do you like it?" She queried, quickly touching a hand to her dyed white hair.

Tav's touch was tender as she took her hand, placing delicate kisses on each knuckle. "I love it." Lips brushing the back of her hand, holding it as she smiles into her eyes. Shadowheart's breath escaped her lips in an unexpected sigh, releasing the tension she didn't realize she was holding. The only compliment that truly soothed her nerves.

"And I love you too... Deeply." She added, biting her lip and shyly looking away.

Shadowheart paused, blinking. She... heard her?

She loves her back??

She...

She leans down slowly, their noses grazing, then their lips before they slowly press together. It's a sweet kiss at first. Tender, lazy, speaking things to each other that words could never capture. The taste so uniquely her and incredibly intoxicating. More than any wine she'd ever indulged in. She could kiss her forever and want for nothing, if her body would allow it. She's missed her lips so much that the tiniest of noises escapes her as her fingers tangle in the hairs on the nape of Tav's neck. "I've loved you for so long, but dared not allow you into my heart" She whispered against Tav's lips between kisses, "but now I can't imagine a day I'd hesitate to welcome you in it."

Shadowheart smiled a little at the way Tav's breath hitched at the words, their lips only briefly reconnecting before a knock came to the door.

It flung open before she had time to answer. "Shadsy, look what I found! Tav will love it when—!" Karlach gushes as she strides into the room, carrying a stuffed Owlbear toy. Cutting herself off when she realizes what she's walked in on, Shadowheart slowly straightening upright. "TAV, YOU'RE AWAKE." She shouts loud enough the whole tavern probably hears her.

And like that, the moment is shattered as their companions flood into the room. Karlach shoving the gift into Tav's arms, everyone smiling and even occasionally giving the gentlest of hugs to their awakened leader. Even Astarion seems genuinely relieved.

However, Shadowheart feels a pair of eyes directed at her. Casting a glance in its direction, she examines until she finds the source. Connecting with a certain Selûnite standing just outside the door. She responds to Shadowhearts silent confusion with a nod and smile, then turns away.

Shadowheart's lips curved into a gentle smile, illuminating her face with warmth, and returned her attention to Tav. Who she loved. Not so long ago, she believed her heart had only room for shadows, for darkness and loss. It only took nearly losing the love of her life twice to realize how foolish that belief was. Now, her heart warmed, and fluttered like a flame flickering to life. And it craved for so much more than she ever knew it could feel, nevermind hold. It yearned for her.

And Shadowheart would never deny her heart of her again.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #bg3 #shadowheart #baldurs gate shadowheart #bg3 shadowheart #shadowheartxf!reader #female reader #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #baldurs gate fanfiction #drabble #baldurs gate drabble #shadowheart x tav

[takeme-totheworld]

Aziraphale and Forgiveness, Pt. 2: The Source of Salvation

This series is now complete! Here's where you can find the other parts.

Part 1 here. Part 3 here. Part 4 here.

(This post ended up being way longer than I intended, oopsie! And no fun GIFs to break it up this time. Hope you like reading lots of words!)

So why would Aziraphale, an angel who has not fallen despite bending/breaking the rules many times, have so much emotional baggage around the topic of forgiveness?

Some disclaimers:

Disclaimer 1: I've seen enough of tumblr already to know that "does Aziraphale really have religious trauma?/how much does it motivate his actions?" is the subject of Discourse around these parts. I don't want to have that argument here. Aziraphale's experience with Heaven has strong parallels to my personal religious history, and those specific parallels are what I'm here to talk about.

Disclaimer 2: I am not a bible scholar or religious historian, if I mention specific church doctrines or bible verses it's only to illustrate the experience of growing up in my church. My actual biblical/theological accuracy may be sloppy.

Disclaimer 3: I haven't read Good Omens the book. I know there are differences, but I'm not addressing them. All my thoughts are about show!Aziraphale and show!Heaven only.

Okay. Here goes.

The next point I want to make is that Aziraphale has spent his life inside a system that has weaponized the concept of forgiveness. Because Heaven, in the Good Omens universe, operates a lot like a particular flavor of toxic Christianity that I happen to be very familiar with.

In the version of Christianity I was raised with:

Your only purpose is to serve God's will. Our own needs, wants, goals, etc, were all understood to be secondary to that purpose.

The specter of eternal punishment is always present. Like any self-respecting Evangelical church, we believed that if you weren't "saved" before you died, you would go to Hell and be punished forever. How do you make sure you're saved? Well...

The rules are not clear or consistent, so you're always left guessing. We were a Protestant denomination, so a foundational doctrine was "sola scriptura." (We weren't fancy enough for the Latin, though, we just called ourselves "bible-based.") The basic idea is that the bible is the word of God, it's infallible, and it's the only authority we need to follow. But the bible is a cobbling-together of texts written thousands of years ago, that have been translated multiple times. It's not self-evident to a modern reader what any given passage means. It contains internal contradictions all over the place. So...the bible is the only authority we need to follow, but it's confusing and needs interpretation. Enter pastors and other church leaders to help us interpret. Only...they each have their own pre-existing biases and preferred scholarly interpretations, so even within the same church, different pastors might have different ideas about things.

So, to summarize: Follow what the bible says! Don't understand what it's telling you? Ask your pastor! Different pastors give different answers? Ugh, you're thinking about this too hard. Go pray about it or something. Just figure it out.

New ideas and experiences are, at best, begrudgingly tolerated. Because doing God's will is your only purpose, remember? And the Bible (and your pastor) are the source of the only wisdom you need to fulfill the only purpose you have. So really, you don't need anything outside what the church has to offer you and it's all a distraction anyway. (...okay, if you really must, here's a watered-down, church-approved version of the thing, now shut up.)

This isn't just the church being a buzzkill. It keeps you dependent on them and ignorant of the outside world to whatever extent they monitor and censor outside influences. My church was not even that extreme about this, relatively speaking, but it was still enough to profoundly impact me and leave me confused and floundering in the larger world after I left.

No matter how hard you try to measure up, you're ultimately at God's mercy. So you spend your life trying to follow a bunch of confusing, opaque rules in the hopes that you can be "saved" and avoid eternal punishment. But here's kicker: none of it truly matters anyway, because we were also taught that everyone falls short in the end and that the only real salvation comes from God forgiving you for your sins. All you really have to do to be saved is accept his free gift of forgiveness...by...believing the right things in the right way and praying the right prayers about it. And then spending the rest of your life still trying to follow all the convoluted rules, because doing so is proof that you were sincere...in your acceptance of God's forgiveness...which you accepted by following even more instructions regarding what to believe and how to pray to ensure that you were accepting it correctly.

How do you know if you've done any of this right? You never can, truly, until you die and find out. Because God's not actually talking to anyone. So in the end, no matter what you do, you end up in the same place: at the mercy of God, who decides whether you're forgiven or not.

If you're thinking that sounds like an incredibly confusing and exhausting way to grow up, you are correct! It also has a lot of parallels in Good Omens.

If you are an angel working for Heaven in the world of Good Omens:

Your only purpose is to serve God's will. This one is obvious. If you're an angel, it's literally the only thing you were created for.

The specter of eternal punishment is always present. The eternal punishment that can happen to an angel is falling. We know it's a punishment, because we know Crowley's fall was painful and because we can see that Hell is a miserable environment for the demons. This isn't The Good Place, where demons gleefully sit around eating snacks in conference rooms and brainstorming new fun ways to torture humans. Hell in Good Omens sucks for everyone there. And we can assume falling is meant to be permanent, because if it wasn't Crowley and Aziraphale wouldn't have been so gobsmacked by the Metatron's offer to restore Crowley to angelic status. Because there's no precedent for that. Crowley himself says that being a demon has automatically rendered him unforgivable. As far as anyone in this universe knows, "fallen" is a permanent state.

So how does an angel avoid eternal punishment? How do angels make sure they don't fall? Well...

The rules are not clear or consistent, so you're always left guessing. Was falling a one-and-done mass exile of everyone who rebelled, right after the war? The way both Heaven and Hell talk about the fall and the "casting out" of the demons would seem to suggest so. But fear of falling is obviously ever-present among the angels, so they clearly don't know for sure one way or the other. And what would cause an angel who wasn't part of the original rebellion to fall? Aziraphale thought he would fall for lying about Job's children. The archangels threatened Aziraphale with falling for "consorting" with Crowley in S1. Gabriel expected to fall for saying no to Armageddon the Sequel in S2. But none of those falls actually happened. Clearly even the angels in the highest positions of authority don't know exactly what the rules are about falling. And who decides who falls? Gabriel says the demons were "cast out" after the war, but who did the casting out? Did God handle that directly? Was it the Metatron? Did the transformation just sort of...happen, leaving everyone unsure about the details? And what about present day? The Metatron said that Gabriel would have his memory wiped instead of falling, but does that mean the Metatron gets to decide if an angel falls, or was he covering for the fact that he doesn't know how it works either?

We, the viewers, don't know the answers to any of these questions. But it's fairly clear that the angels also don't know.

New ideas and experiences are, at best, begrudgingly tolerated. The angels know little to nothing about the world or humanity and are disdainful or outright suspicious of earthly experiences. In the case of the ones who have never been sent to Earth, this makes sense, although it begs the question of why there are so many angels who have never once been sent to Earth, the planet that is supposed to be central to the Great Plan.

It's obviously, at its core, about control and keeping the angels ignorant of anything that would broaden their perspective. But listen to how the angels themselves talk about it. When Gabriel sees Aziraphale eating sushi, he asks, "Why do you consume that? You're an angel." (Subtext: You don't need to eat, so what's the purpose of indulging in this experience?) When Aziraphale suggests he try the food himself, Gabriel starts talking about sullying the temple of his body or whatever. (Subtext: It's not technically forbidden but it would be a deviation from my function as an angel so I'm suspicious of it.) And look at Aziraphale himself. He lives on Earth for many hundreds of years before he can be persuaded to even try human food, and Crowley has to work at convincing him it's okay. He seems to know it's not forbidden but he's deeply distrustful of it anyway. (I have a theory that a holdover of this mindset is why he's so set in his ways, behind the times, and still more ignorant of humans that you'd expect in the present day, but this post is already too long.) The attitude cultivated among the angels is These things are not meant for us, we don't need them, and they are a distraction from our higher purpose, so it's better if we don't.

No matter how hard you try to measure up, you're ultimately at God's mercy. So, if you're an angel, you're meant to be doing God's will, and if you fail badly enough you can be punished forever by falling. But the rules are unclear, the way falling works is unclear, in most cases you're kept ignorant of everything but the bare minimum you need to know to do your job, God isn't talking to anyone, and the (seemingly) officially appointed Voice of God is also pretty remote and mysterious most of the time.

So the only time you'll ever know for certain that you've crossed the line is once you've already crossed it, when it's too late to do anything about it. At that point, the only thing that could save you from falling would be if God just...decided to be merciful, to grant you a pardon (i.e. to forgive you) and not do the casting out thing.

Believe it or not, I had to work really hard to keep this as short as it is. If you've read this far, I salute you. Now, what's the point?

Aziraphale and the other angels are part of a system where they understand very little, they have no real power, the stakes are eternal, and their only hope of escaping endless punishment if they fail is the possibility that God will decide to show mercy and forgive them.

Yes, in the real world this is all just bullshit spread by religious leaders to scare and confuse and manipulate people into compliance and in the world of Good Omens it's actually real. But the emotional impact of feeling that confused and powerless and at the mercy of a higher authority is going to be the same. Of course Aziraphale has some Big Feelings about the subject of forgiveness. Of course it's one of his favorite things. It's not just a nice thing you do for people. It's powerful enough to rescue someone from eternal punishment when nothing else can. Powerful enough to wield as a devastating weapon by withholding it. It's a tool of control in Heaven, but it's also the source of salvation.

I was going to segue from here into what I think the specifics of Aziraphale's mindset are, but it took me so many more words than I expected just to lay out the parallels between GO Heaven and (my experience of) real-world toxic Christianity so I'm gonna stop here. Next time I'm going to dig into what I think is happening in Aziraphale's head when he forgives Crowley, and also when he does things like shelter Jimbriel (a very forgiving action, even if the words "I forgive you" don't accompany it).

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens 2 spoilers #character analysis #aziraphale #religious indoctrination #religious trauma #forgiveness #i forgive you #i'm very normal about this #this post is so long i apologize

[alloftheimaginesblog]

damaged goods {e.m}

plot: you and eddie have been seeing each other for a while but just as things are getting good, he self destructs and pulls away.

character: eddie munson x reader

As soon as you see his black van parked at the school, you're determined to hunt him down. He's clearly been avoiding you for the last two weeks and you want to know why. Was he not interested in you anymore? Did he want things to end? Was he going through something? You didn't know but you needed to; you couldn't just have nothing from him so you were going to do whatever it took, whether it meant missing classes or even skipping school completely, you'd do whatever it took to get to the bottom of this.

Things between you and Eddie had just been getting good, you were getting to the stage where you were hoping that he'd ask you to be his girlfriend and then he just... left. Whatever the reason, you needed to know. You liked Eddie, god you really liked him and that's why you were pissed. You wanted this so bad, you wanted him so bad and maybe he didn't want you and honestly, it hurt a lot more than you'd care to admit.

You didn't know where he'd be so you found someone who would. It didn't take long to find the rest of the Hellfire Club, they were tucked away inside their dedicated room ranting about the new campaign that they were starting. When you barged in, they immediately shut up.

"Where is he?"

They glanced around at each other, stammering and red in the face.

Rolling your eyes, you put your hand on Dustin's shoulder, "Dustin," your voice turned from hard to sticky sweet, "Can you tell me where he is?" Poor Henderson. He was clearly under instruction to not let you know his location but as soon as you fluttered your lashes he spluttered out that Eddie was in Mr Muchnik's class prepping for a test that he'd previously failed. You patted Dustin on the shoulder, "Thanks, kid," as Mike Wheeler hissed 'dude he's gonna kill you'.

On the walk to Muchnik's all you could think was that you hoped he didn't have a class first thing because you wanted this all sorted with Eddie, you didn't want to have a bunch of kids walk in on your - what you presumed would be - heated discussion.

When you walked in, Eddie was hunched over the table, scribbling things down, "Henderson, I told you not to bother me-"

"Munson!" The roar of your voice startles Eddie, making him jump and cower like a dog who's being scolded for chewing on the couch cushions.

Quickly, he jumps up, "I-I gotta go, sorry, really gotta run!" He excuses himself and tries to scuttle away.

"And you're just abandoning all your work, huh?" You ask, arms crossed over your chest. Eddie looks back to the mess he's left on the desk, the important mess on the desk, "You won't mind if I just tear it all up, would you?" Eddie's eyes narrow as he weighs up the situation in his mind. Would he really let you destroy his hard work just for the purpose of avoiding talking to you for even longer? Seriously?! "I just had to flirt with a goddamn twelve year old so you're going to fucking speak to me, Eds!" You hiss, annoyed and still slightly mortified with flirting with Dustin.

Eddie almost laughed, he would've had the tension not been too much, "Fuckin' Henderson man..." He mutters under his breath before realising that right now is not the time for jokes. He relents with a heavy sigh, "Okay, let's talk."

You're standing, arms crossing frowning at him. He's looking at you as though you're the one who needs to do some explaining and your patience wears thin, "Well?" It's harsher than you really intend it to be but Eddie doesn't flinch, instead he shrugs one shoulder, scratching the back of his head.

"I don't really know what to tell you."

You're fucking pissed and he knows it. It takes every ounce of self control to not rip him to shreds, "Start with why you've been avoiding me." Your voice is sticky sweet but with an edge; a knife dipped in honey.

His composure changes from that of being skittish to being... indifferent? "I'm damaged goods, sweetheart," he says, hands spread out in a 'what you gonna do about it' gesture, "what more can I say?"

"The fuck are you talking about?" You're angry, he sees it burning in your eyes and he doesn't blame you. He'd be angry too if you'd avoided him for two weeks with no sort of rhyme or reason. It's like he doesn't care, like it's fun to mess you about but the real reason is that he does care; so much, maybe even too much, "What does that mean?"

"Damaged goods," he repeats, voice more serious this time, "I'm broken, fucked in the head, a mess... Any of them work better for you?" He sounds bitter, annoyed at himself almost.

You roll your eyes, "I know what it means, Munson, I just want to know why that's reason enough for you to avoid me for two weeks when things were just getting good."

It's Eddie's turn to be confused, "Because I'm a mess. Why would you care about me? I'm not worth it so I decided for you."

You roll your eyes, "How about you let me decide what I can and can't handle? Eds..." At the sound of your nickname for him, his face softens and he suddenly can't look directly at you anymore. Shame burns in his stomach. Could you really care about him? Has his insecurities caused him to push you away? Your demeanour changes and all of your anger vanishes. You're not angry. Your heart aches for him in this moment. You reach out for him, he doesn't react, "I thought things were going really well, I stupidly thought that you were..." You trail off, shaking your head with a bitter laugh.

"That I was what?" Eddie presses quietly.

"That you were gonna make it official soon," you say with a shrug, "I don't care if you're broken or if you're a mess - have you met anyone who's not a bit of a mess or a little fucked?! I have issues too, Eds, I struggle as well. You just have to trust that I care about you because..." he finally raises his head to look at you, "I do. I do care about you."

He laughs humourlessly, "Why? Why do you even care about me? I'm a freak, no money, no friends, nothing."

"Because you're you, Eddie. You're funny, always making me laugh even when I'm mad or upset. You're so sweet. When we started this thing I didn't really see you as a sweet or caring guy but my god you are. You came and picked me up at 3am from Olivia's party, drunk as a skunk and then I puked in your van and you didn't care. You still called me pretty and helped me get home safe, didn't complain about the state of your van or anything. Spending time with you is so fun. Before we started hanging out, I don't remember when I'd had this much fun. Eds, you mean so much to me and I don't get why you don't see how fast and hard I'm falling for you!" The last part was a secret that you'd meant to kept locked up and as soon as you say it, you take a sharp intake of breath, "I-I- fuck."

Eddie smiles, a real smile that reaches his eyes and crinkles the corners, "You mean all of that?" He steps towards you.

Your cheeks burn hot, "Yeah, I do."

"All of it? You accept me for my flaws and all?"

Again, you agree.

"You promise?" He asks, "I'm giving you an out right now. If you're not sure, if you don't think this is a long term thing... get out while you still can because I want you and once I have you," he's standing right in front of you, chests centimetres from touching, "I'm never gonna let you go." His breath fans over your face and you find yourself closing the gap between the two of you.

"I'm all in," you whisper, eyes boring into his.

He grins but you barely get a chance to see it before his lips are on yours, warm and fast. It's not a long kiss, no those tend to happen in the back of his van, but it's enough for now.

He pulls back, pressing your foreheads together, murmuring an apology to you, "I'm sorry," he starts, "I- I got kinda in my head. Couldn't understand why someone like you would date someone like me." Instead of replying, you kiss him again. He tastes familiar - cigarettes and coffee.

"Oh," he says, pulling back, "we're totally in a relationship now by the way if you didn't know." He speaks quick before kissing you again. Your hands tangle in his hair as he backs you against the wall. You missed him; you missed this. You just hoped that you'd be able to prove to him that no matter what he was - damaged goods or not - then you'd be here to help repair the pieces.

#one shot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #reader insert #stranger things #os #prompt #eddie #eddie x y/n #eddie x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #st #st imagine #imagine

[millerscoffee]

Hi brilliant Bee 🐝 can we please get the “do you want my fingers?” prompt from either Frankie or Joel 🤭

hi, sweetheart! i went with joel for this, i hope that's okay! it's a little longer than i intended, so i just want to say – please don't take this personally, everyone else! i'm a sucker for joel and got carried away. sue me! i could've gone longer, and i'm showing great restraint! tehehe. i hope y'all enjoy ♡

take me on

1710 words | joel miller x inexperienced f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: age gap (joel: late 50s, reader 28), reader is a virgin/late bloomer (right on time bloomer if you ask me), fingering (f receiving), pet names, praise kink

A/N: this is part of my 500 followers celebration running until 9/9 ♡

To put it simply: you were embarrassed.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with anyone in your years of life, you just hadn’t found the right time or person.  Living in Jackson was more comfortable than most places, but it wasn’t like it was easy meeting people – not necessarily a lot of new people to meet.

And that’s when Joel Miller showed up.

He was moody, his time was spent scowling at others while keeping close to his family… for the most part.  Sometimes he was scowling alone when the waters were rocky.  But when he saw you, the subtlety of his features softened: his shoulders, his eyebrows.  It was something you didn’t pick up straight away, but iteration made it obvious.

Like the one night Joel was in the middle of an argument just outside The Tipsy Bison, when he saw you show up.  He was presenting to be a different person around you – his words fell off to the side, and he opened the door for you without a word.

Of course, he continued the fight the very second the door closed behind you.

A grin splayed over your face.

A few days passed, built up until Joel found the courage to speak to you.  And that burn was just as slow.

A small crowd of people left until the two of you were on either side of a bench.  His eyes met yours, wide and curious.  His larynx buoyed upon swallowing, a grunt slipped through his nose.

“Hey.”

Man of a few words.

But it didn’t take long for the two of you to strike up a conversation, and even shorter for you to learn the pathways that it took for him to unravel for you.

That was a month ago.

Now, you find yourself in Joel’s house, nestled up in his room.

There had been a couple of times leading up to this point.  You’ve kissed, you’ve spent hours heavy petting.  Joel calling you darlin’, wanting more of you.  He understands that you’re nervous, but he is but a carnal being at the end of the day.

So are you, you’re finding.

And you know it now underneath the dark duvet, the desire you cannot contain.  The slick rising between your legs.

“Joel,” you whisper: lips chaste, thighs quivering as he settles between them. “I- I want you.”

These are the words he’s been dying to hear, but still you watch his gaze shift – fire and flame, eagerness and concern.

“What can y’take?”

You swallow a whimper at his attentiveness.  His desire to take care of you.

“I don’t really know,” you bite your cheek, and god, it’s silly.  You should know what you want by now.  You’ve built up so much momentum for this moment, even before Joel was in the picture, and now that it’s here, you freeze.

“Hey,” Joel’s palm soothes over the side of your neck and your pupils blow wide at the sensation, the observation, the unmentioned praise. “You don’t gotta know.  We’ll go slow, alright?”

You nod feverishly, your hands exploring – timid and clumsy – over his sides through his flannel, and fuck, he loves that.  Loves the sensation of your delicate grazes exclaiming their inclinations for him.

“Okay,” you muster it, and Joel helps you undress.  Clothing is off of you until you’re in your underwear and top on his bed.

It’s slow, this process.  He takes his time.  Admires you with kind eyes, with soft words, with grunts and muttered damn’s.  A good half hour of this build up, of his lips on your skin.  Of him taking his time with you, to work you up, to make you feel safe.

And you are rattling for him.

“Joel, I–” you don’t mean for it to sound like a moan, but his ears perk up when it happens.

“Talk t’me, baby,” you shudder at his big palms crossing the landscape of your thighs.

“Y-yknow I’ve never, I’ve never.”

You can’t get it out.  Twenty-eight.  A virgin.  Never been naked for someone like this, much less touched.

“I know, darlin’.  And you’ll let me take care a’you?  ‘Cuz we can stop, y’just gotta say the word.”

“N-no!” you feel blood pooling at your cheeks, and that tugs a grin from him.

“No?” He's amused now, but still tender.  His head tilts to gaze between your legs, and lets out a weak whistle. “I know you’re nervous, but do you know how damn irresistible you are?”

And fuck, you’re ruined by that.

“I’m not nervous,” you grin weakly, hips shifting under his gaze.

“Yeah, I know.  So brave for me, aren’tcha?”

“I’m brave,” you breathe the repeated phrase, “I want this.” Hearing just how brave you’re being makes you feel braver than you may actually be.  Sneaky man, it’s working.

“Do you want my fingers?”

Says the man whose fingers were curled under the collar of some man earlier in the day for cutting him off in line for lunch.  How could they be delicate now?

Regardless, it pulls you.  You feel your core pulse at this, your clit tingles at the prospect of being touched and all you can do is nod, “Y-yes.”

That’s all Joel needs.

He shifts on the bed, noises of age escaping from him as one knee is bent on his bed, other foot planted deep into the floor.  Hovering over you, but not in a way that makes you nervous.  It makes you feel cared for.  Your eyes look up, wet and round up to his deep brown eyes that stake their claim over you.

“I’m gonna pull these off now.  That alright?”  he nods in the direction between your legs and you tell him yes before you even realise it.

The cool air against the dampness of your cunt draws a gasp from you and your hand instinctively wraps around his wrist.  “Joel,” you whimper, biting the plush of your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” he coos, nodding in acknowledgement of how intense it is.  “Doin’ so good f’me.  You know that too, don’t you?”

You swallow down, nodding back.  Legs split innately, spreading your mess down your thighs.  “Lord,” he breathes, “You are somethin’ special, you know that?”  you’re speechless, but the peak of your nipples through the fabric speak a lot for you – the breathy sighs, the needy hips.  And he allows it.  Because you’re fresh, you’re new, you don’t need to be demanded.  He wants this right for you.

“Gonna touch you, okay?”  “Okay,” you mewl.  At first it’s your legs, right at the crease; at your hips.  And then, he’s cursing under his breath when the pads of his fingers finally – patiently – run up and down over your folds.  It’s lazy, it’s unhurried, his skin is so hot it throbs you.  The ache is all-consuming, and you could come apart just from this.

“This for me?”  the sounds of your wetness rebound in your ears, causing your brows to knit and whimpers to fill in beside the slick as you bob your head.

“Please, please.  I want to feel you.  Need to feel this.”

You find the words as he finds the green light.

One finger dips down in this tentative headspace.  His eyes flit from your face to your core, and you feel so gorgeous under the gaze.  You swallow then, knowing his fingers are far larger than yours, but you are brave – remember?  And he knows it.  He’s slow, intentional when he grooves over your entrance: the source of your wetness.

He watches you carefully, tempting the digit inside at the very tip and you hiss reactionarily.  It stings.  No matter how turned on you are, this is new and your blood is pumping around his finger.  But you let him know it’s okay, how you can take it.  His other hand pushes your hair back in awe of you, in praise, and gently nudges the finger up.

“So full,” you gasp, almost giggling from the stir.  That sharpness melts into pleasure and you nudge your cheek into his palm as he sits more now.  In front of you, palm traveling down your side to land at your hip, the middle finger tempting to press deeper until he’s at the knuckle.  It’s delicious – cosmic and veracious.

“Tight, fuckin’ gorgeous,” he can’t help but utter and it’s within him rolling his thumb over your clit do you feel the pressure inside you build.

It’s strange, too.

You don’t expect the feeling to pull pleasure out of you, but the repetitious movements make your eyes roll back – his skill, and his intent.

“I ca… I c-can’t last, p–”

“C’mon, pretty girl.  You can let go for me.”  He’s so soft like this, albeit in complete control of you.  And that unfamiliar permission sends fireworks from your core, down your legs – your hips rocking up and you inhale sharply at the feeling of him moving in deeper from that.  “Joel!”

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, but makes light work in keeping the focus on you, on fucking you through it.

And it’s not that you haven’t orgasmed, but you didn’t expect to – not within your first experience with someone else.

But you’re quickly understanding Joel isn’t just anyone else.

His eyes are hungry, grunts spilling from him as he absorbs this.  Just nodding – at least you think he is in between your eyes screwing shut, and the ringing in your ears.  You’re flashed with white hot pleasure, and you don’t want it to end.

“That’s it, sweet girl.  That’s right.  Look so pretty cummin’ around my finger like this.  Sound so pretty for me, too.”  And just before you become too sensitive, he slows down.  Takes his thumb off of your clit, the vice grip you have on his thick finger makes it difficult for him to pull out – but he manages just fine.  A pleased grin plucking him.

“Wait.  Are you okay?  Do you need anything?”  You shift, realising that he hasn’t been addressed, but he’s quick to shake his head and clean you up.  Those rough hands that have done mean things are so gentle as they place the clothes back on your body.  His lips flutter over your forehead.

“All in good time, babygirl.  All in good time.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #500 followers prompt #joel miller #tlou fic #tlou smut #soft!joel miller #soft!joel #joel miller fluff #joel miller x inexperienced reader

[eyestrain-addict]

I just realized why lestat marked Tom, like the big stupid idiot I am

(I know everyone else probably already figured this out, but this is MY blog and I get to post whatever deranged thought crosses my pea brained mind.)

When I watched that scene in episode 5 where they're at the bar talking to Tom, I was confused as to why exactly. Why does Lestat mark Tom? If he's marked to kill, why does he wait almost 2 decades later? Well I realized, as all realizations come, in the shower.

Lestat has been planning on killing Tom the whole time.

(Warning before you click read more, this post is a lot longer than I first intended holy fuck)

Well not the whole time. Just right when Louis realized that Anderson and Fenwick had screwed him over. Maybe even longer if he knew it was a trick ("ridiculous of you to mix human and vampire business it always ends poorly"). Notice how he's upset with louis when he kills the guy who's microaggressive with him, cus lestat wasn't there (even if he was there I have my doubts Lestat would understand microaggressions, but he would have definitely killed him for touching Louis.) But tells Louis he's proud of him for killing Alderman. I think this has to be because he witnessed the disrespect first hand. He didn't give a fuck about the money, what he DID care about was that those two disrespected not only him, but Louis.

Even with Lestats little understanding of race relations of the time in America, he did understand hierarchys. He's from 1700s France for God's sake. It's no coincidence wanted to be king of mardi gras. Lestat came to New Orleans and saw himself as the king, even if no one knew it. And he wanted Louis to be his queen. Honestly I could make an entire other post about how Lestat almost literally saw himself as if he was a King and Louis his beloved Queen, which is why he thought it was okay for him to sleep with other women (mistresses and playthings of the king should mean nothing compared to the queen in lestats eyes) but that's getting off topic. I only bring that up because I'm trying to paint a picture of how I think Lestat sees disrespect done to Louis. To him that goes beyond disrespect or rudeness, it's irreverence.

You begin to notice if you watch scenes with them together. Because while I wouldn't say lestat is good at controlling his anger, he's definitely great at concealing it until it erupts (props to Sam Reid have to be given here) lestat is always on the verge of fury when talking to Tom. It starts as a distaste then as he begins to fall more in love with Louis and become more protective of him, his anger builds. Claudia was wrong about one thing, it was no petty slight that was the reason Lestat killed Tom first, it was a loooonng time coming.

I could list every detail I think supports this but I'm sure you get the gist by now. My main point is really the layer of complexity this adds to not only the story, the characters, but also lestat and louis' relationship. Consider it for a second, Lestat saw all his violence as justified, everything he did one can see it through the lense of him punishing the disrespectful (take a shot every time I say disrespect in this post jesus christ). "I bring death to those deserving" indeed. Lestat has a god complex out the wazoo, and every attack, torture, and death he caused was righteous to him and thus enjoyable. Louis on the other hand didn't see himself so highly. He may seem confident but if you look through the cracks it's apparent Louis's self worth in near nonexistent and he's horribly insecure. I think lestat thought when Louis was made a vampire he would see himself as Lestat saw himself, and as Lestat saw Louis. But again, another post for another time.

Despite Louis' insecurities (or perhaps because of them) louis revels in the violence lestat commits for his sake. That's probably why louis is so quick to forgive lestat about the priests. For a brief moment Lestat truly said the truth to Louis and Louis could forgive him because of it. As lestat says, he doesn't kill the priests to intimidate Louis, nor does he do it just because he enjoys it. He does it because he sees them as humiliating Louis, charlatans that don't deserve Louis' sorrow. Louis didn't want the priest's to die, but he could understand why lestat killed them, simply because for once in his goddamn life lestat told the truth, and louis loved that truth. That truth being that lestat killed and mutilated and committed such horrors not just because he liked it, but because he did it out of a fucked up sense of protection. Him killing the priests was essentially a knight killing a dragon to earn the princess' hand in marriage.

The worst part is that Lestat doesn't even realize it. Not fully anyway. Let's be honest with ourselves, lestat doesn't understand Louis. Obviously there's the race, background, culture differences that lestat doesn't understand nor seems inclined to try, but there are better posts about that made by smarter people than moi. I'm mostly talking about lestat doesn't understand louis' mind itself (louis' mind in a vacuum I suppose you could say) he understands Louis' desire for violence sure, but he doesn't understand the core of that want. Honestly I'm on the fence of if he ever understood that Louis loved it when lestat was protective in the first place. I guess it can be dumbed down to Louis wants Lestat to kill to protect Louis and to protect the family (and anyone who deeply disrepects them), lestat perhaps understood a little at one point, but since he sees everyone as a threat and everything is a slight to him, he has no trouble and qualms with delighting in the torture of people Louis views as innocent. Louis' heart is a bit dark, but ultimately human, so he's disgusted by lestats violence towards the undeserving. Lestat can no longer read Louis' mind and even if he could, Louis doesn't quite understand the difference himself (that's why he tries to hunt for criminals briefly) so the cracks of miscommunication starts to form, and neither of them even realize there is miscommunication.

Therein lies the importance of Tom Anderson for season 1. Not much of a character, more of a plot device in human skin. Claudia can see that Lestat hates him, but doesn't understand why, nor does she care to get to the depths of that. (*Mr house voice* understandable) I think it's notable that Louis rarely brought him up, he didn't understand the depths of lestats love. Nor did he know about Lestats 3 decade long grudge, all because Tom disrespected Louis.

Now I'm not excusing Lestat's actions, I just think it's interesting how this one throwaway character reveals a whole level of complexity to the relationship between him and Louis, and better sheds light on not only Lestats personal philosophy but louis' as well. Even Claudia to a degree.

Anyway, uh. End of essay. Bye.

#or im completely wrong #feel free to ratio me if youve gotta a better idea of whats happening #holy fuck this is longer than i meant #whoops wanted to write down some throwaway thoughts and accidentally wrote an essay #happens to the best of us #essay #id add lovely photos like other ppl do but im on phone #iwtv #interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #loustat #character analysis #sorry if i repeat words it be like that sometimes #i dont even know if i wanna put this in my ramblings tag cus of how long it is #tom anderson #is that a tag? who tf is looking him up #edit; #apparently these types of posts are supposed to be tagged #iwtv meta #i didnt know till just a second ago

[skzcre]

Can’t stop thinking about bratty sub chan, whining and begging to cum

i was abt to say i can’t see chan being a brat but considering how much he annoys the other members…you definitely right 👀 and the way he’s always tryin to act cute n convince everyone he’s the true maknae? he’s a baby. he’s not even bratty bc he necessarily wants punishment (but u can’t tell me he isn’t a light painslut) he just wants your attention and will throw a fit if he doesn’t get it

i imagine you’re maybe trying to get some work done and he’s bored and needy and you aren’t kissing him enough (how dare!!! he needs a kiss every 10 seconds or he’ll die!!!!) and he’s just bothering you. poking your side, nuzzling into your neck and leaving small pecks, whining and pouting and eventually it leads into a fit. he gets all huffy >.< and you’re definitely endeared but you have work you have to get done and you’ve already had to put it off like 10 times because he wanted attention.

you’re trying to be sweet (because baby loves compliments and being praised even though he gets shy) and calm him down but it isn’t working and he just keeps trying to argue and eventually it causes you to have to use force. the funny thing abt brat!chan is that all it takes is a swift yank of his hair and he’s melting in your hands. his brain turns off, he’s full mush.

and now he’s really gotten himself in trouble because he’s leashed to the table with a vibrator tied to his desperately hard cock while you work. occasionally when he starts trying to fight back, you just press your foot onto his cock, not with intention to hurt but just increase the pressure. make him REALLY start begging. and of course, the rule is he can’t cum until you’re finished with what you’re doing. (you’re at least nice enough to leave the vibrator at the lowest setting, but it’s edging him and it’s torture)

barely 10 minutes in, he’s softly sobbing, rutting into the air, quietly begging. pleading. “i’m so sorry, ma’am (or sir, whichever you prefer!). i’m sorry for being a brat, i’ll do anything. i wanna be a good boy, i-i promise i’ll be good. just please, i can’t take it anymore. need your touch so bad.”

and you just can’t help it. you’ve got a little more to do, but baby’s so pretty when he cries :( you can’t help but take pity on him, cooing at him and kissing away his tears.

“have you learned your lesson, honey?”

“yes, yes! i’ll never bother you when you’re working again, i promise!”

the vibrator comes off, and you reward him with some neck kisses (and bites, god he’d mark up so well) and your soft hands around his cock. it doesn’t take long before he’s making a mess, leaving a small pool of his cum on the carpet. you’ll make him clean that later.

both of you clean up, you give him the aftercare he needs, lots of cuddles and praises and all the kisses he can take and before long he’s fast asleep on your lap. and finally, you can get some damn work done T_T

(this turned out longer than i intended, i always end up wandering off omfg)

#sub!skz has me in a chokehold rn i wont lie #ask box: chan #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #sub!skz #sub skz #sub bang chan #skz chan smut #chan smut #bang chan hard hours #chan hard thoughts

[joojeans]

Hello it's meeee again!

First of all, I'm glad you liked the lil blurb hahaha

second! now I'd like to request!

So let's say Hyung line and female reader are best friends that have always been strictly platonic, but one day it just happens to be a lot of unusual tension and they end up making out and being surprised about it themselves.

How would it be?❤️

ugh i’m such a sucker for a besties with sexual tension moment 💔

all of these could/should be full fics but for the sake of including all four of them 🥹

&team hyung line: suddenly making out w/ their best friend

k: you can sense the annoyance in k’s aura. his tone, his flat face, his body language—it’s all a dead giveaway. you sigh, plucking at your shoelaces as you both sit cross-legged on his bedroom floor, listening to music together as you normally do. he seems to be trying to pretend you’re not there, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “k.” there’s a sharpness to your tone that makes k’s eyes drift upward—looking up at you—though his head is mostly still tilted towards the floor. “hm?” you’re still trying to get a gauge on him, but you’ve got nothing. “what’s up with you? we were having so much fun this afternoon and now you’re icing me out or something. if you want me to leave, i can go.” k sighs and speaks in the same breath. “don’t.” you decide you no longer want the responsibility of figuring out whatever this is, so you let the silence linger until he speaks again. “look, i don’t know, okay?” he runs his hand back through his hair, leaning back on his other arm. “i don’t know how to explain it but i just really didn’t fucking like watching you ‘play’ with nicholas today and i know that makes me sounds like a crazy asshole. i don’t know.” it takes several seconds for everything to click in your head. you hadn’t expected the problem to sound so much like jealousy. you always play with k and his friends. you and k have always been just good friends. what changed? “and i’m not jealous. so don’t even start.” you choke down an incredulous laugh before making your way across the floor to k—hands and knees like a curious puppy. your body seems to be working ahead of your mind, brain still trying to understand as if your body hasn’t already made a decision on its own. you stop in front of him, leaning forward on your arms to force him to look only at you. “no? then what are you?” both pairs of eyes are reading each other but neither of you have the answers you’re searching for. all you have is a glimmer of anticipation. k foregoes answering your question—verbally, at least—and grabs for you, arms gathering you up until you’re planted in his lap, lips covering yours with the same passion he channels when he dances. he breathes heavily into your mouth, hands groping at your waist and pulling you against his torso, tongue prodding your lips open for him. you moan as you welcome his tongue with yours, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. you tug at k’s bottom lip with your teeth, giggling when he practically growls in response. your laughter seems to break whatever spell you two were under, the room suddenly devoid of noise despite the music as you stare at each other with many more questions in your eyes. something has shifted. “fuck. i don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” k groans, leaning his head back against his dresser. you frown. “what? was kissing me that terrible?” “no. that’s the problem. god, i liked it so much and i want to keep doing it but i’m not supposed to feel like this about you, am i?”

fuma: if there's one thing you can count on fuma for, it's everything. he really puts the best in best friend. he's helping you clean up your place following the party you hosted last night—a party he would not have intended if it weren't for you. it wasn't exactly his scene, but if you want him somewhere, he'll be there. his attendance was more than enough for you, but he insisted on staying over so he could help you clean this morning. two pairs of hands are better than one, he'd said. you would have rejected his help, but you knew it was no use. he was going to help you whether you wanted him to or not. you glance into the living room and see fuma vacuuming just as you finish throwing away the last plastic cup (you'll apologize to the earth later). everything is mostly clean by now, so you decide the least you can do for fuma is make lunch for you both. you dig through your refrigerator and pantry for the makings of sandwiches. not exactly the best "thank you" meal, but it'll do. you place the ingredients on the counter and then turn to the other side of your small kitchen to retrieve glasses. lemonade sounds good, you think. it's only when you open the upper cabinet that you curse yourself. you forgot you had fuma put all your glasses up high so none of the drunks from the night before could use them for their drinks. still, you make a valiant effort to reach them, chewing your lip nervously as you prop yourself up on your tippy toes. "y/n?" you turn your head to find a smiling fuma standing in the entry way. "what are you doing? do you need help?" without waiting for an answer, he comes to your rescue, using context clues to decipher what you need. he stands behind you, one hand resting on your waist to keep you steady, the other reaching for a glass. he places the first glass down on the counter before retrieving the second one and doing the same. "there we go. ask me next time, silly." he finally looks back down at you, surprised to see you looking at him in a way he's never quite seen before. your faces are much closer than normal and you can hear him swallow thickly, reluctant to pull his gaze from you. you let your impulse win out, inching your head up just the last bit necessary to place your lips on fuma's, relishing in the content hum of his lips as he kisses you back. the kiss escalates quickly, fuma turning you around and lifting you onto the only empty counter, lips never parting. you sigh, wrapping your legs around his strong frame and pulling him further into you, heads tilting to allow each other more access. fuma's hands clutch your outer thighs as he presses himself firmly between them, your hands seeking stability on the countertops either side of you. that's when you tip a glass over and interrupt the heated session, bringing you both back down to earth. your cheeks flare bright red, your hands flying up in an attempt to cover the embarrassment written all over your face. fuma chuckles and takes your hands in his, peeling them away. "hey, now. don't hide from me." he presses a soft kiss to the back of your hand and holds your eyes with his. "i never thought that would happen either, but please don't hide from me. i'd rather not forget that it happened, but if you want, i will."

nicholas: "nicho! i'm here!" you kick your shoes off by his front door and place the takeout your brought on his dining table, looking around for where he might be. "in my room, y/n! come here." he calls to you, your feet already heading in the direction of his voice. "hey, i brought food. i left it in the—" nicholas cuts you off, spinning his computer chair to face you. "i found the perfect playlist. i gotta show you." you chuckle and nod, letting the food be forgotten as you walk over to where nicholas is seated with his headphones on. you're surprised he could hear anything you've said. you lean down by him, expecting him to remove his headphones and play the music through the loud speaker for you, but instead, he plugs a second pair of headphones up and hands them to you. as you're putting them on, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you onto his lap, sitting you sideways so he can see your face while you listen. he loves showing you new things and being able to tell which ones you like just by the look in your eyes. you blush a bit at the close proximity. it's not unheard of for you and nicholas to be quite close to each other, but you weren't expecting it this time. that's the only reason it feels different now, right? he watches you until he's sure you're comfortable and presses play, looking at you excitedly as the music starts to play. you sit in silence for a while, just enjoying the music together, his hand absentmindedly playing with your shirt where it rests on your hip. you're impressed by all of the songs so far, but the fourth one is just your style, head turning to look at nicholas with wide eyes. "i really like this one," you mouth to him. he's already grinning at you by the time you finish talking, leaning into you and pulling one of your headphones out of the way just enough to talk into your ear. "this is the one i wanted you to hear the most. i knew you'd like it." he covers your ear again, but stays close, eyes darting down to see the blush on your cheeks for a second time today. as if his hand was moving on its own, he cups your cheek, brushing his thumb over the pretty pink. you're so still on his lap, not sure what to make of the situation. is nicholas just being nicholas? what are you meant to think? his thumb wanders until he's brushing it over your bottom lip, his gaze now focused on your barely parted lips. when you don't object to this intimate gesture, his eyes flick up to yours to make sure you're here with him, and he replaces his thumb with his own lips. when you don't kiss him back at first, he starts to pull away, but you don't let him, chasing after his lips to kiss him like it's all you've ever wanted. he seems to like you chasing after him, pulling you fully into his lap, hands gliding up your back beneath your shirt, your tongues exploring each other for the first time. you shiver from the contact of his hands on your bare skin, breaking the kiss to breathe his name. it takes a second for both of your eyes to refocus, nicholas lightly scratching your back with his nails in an effort to soothe any nerves. "we should... probably talk about this?" he laughs and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "but if you don't mind, i'd like to do it a little while more first."

euijoo: euijoo is an excellent influence on you. you watch as he does everything well, even things he's never tried before. he inspires you. after watching him making great efforts to learn new languages, you thought you might like to pick up a new one yourself. you didn't trust yourself to stick with it, though, so you begged euijoo to routinely study with you to keep you accountable. he can never say no to you, so he finds himself at your place every tuesday and thursday evening, helping you with pronunciation and sentence structure. he usually doesn't even let you get distracted—taking your phone away from you as soon as he gets there and slipping it into his pocket so you won't be able to use if even if you're tempted. today, your lessons have amped up in difficulty a bit more than usual. you're having a more difficult time with committing the new information to memory and you're especially having problems with pronunciation. you keep asking euijoo for help and, while he's patient with you, you can tell that even he notices how much more you're struggling today. "euijoo. look at me. speak slowly. i've tried saying this ten times now and it doesn't sound the same as when you do it. i need to see how you're saying it." unbothered by your request, he simply nods and turns to you, his big eyes distracting you for a moment. they're always so pretty. you're sitting right next to him so his face is close when he turns your way, but this isn't uncommon for the two of you. he starts speaking again, repeating himself a few times for your benefit. you watch his mouth closely as he pronounces everything perfectly and try to mimic what he's saying silently, urging your mouth to follow his lead. when he stops and looks at you expectantly, you repeat what you think he said. he cocks his head slightly and you know that means that you didn't quite get it right. you sigh, but euijoo doesn't want you to be discouraged. "y/n, watch how i place my tongue. it makes a big difference." he slows down his speaking even more, emphasizing his tongue placement, and now you know you're fucked. because why are you just staring at his tongue, wondering what it feels like instead of paying attention? you don't think about euijoo that way. at least, you don't think you ever have. he seems to notice the way your eyes are glazed over because he stops before finishing his repetition. "y/n." your eyes look up to his and he's confused, but for some reason that just makes you even more sure that something is indeed different about the vibe between you right now. you decide to be bold—not wanting to study anymore today anyway—and reach for him, your hand fisting his shirt to pull him forward to you. your lips catch his with a gasp on his end, but instead of stopping you, he leans into you more, big body towering over you. you slowly lay back, pulling him down with you as your lips move together in a heated frenzy. his knee finds itself between your legs and you moan with want. his lips part in awe, clearly not expecting you to moan like that, and you take advantage of that, licking into his mouth and forcing a moan out of him too. he presses his knee up between your legs and you gently tug at the back of his hair, tilting your head back with a lust-coated sigh. "euijoo. i-is this okay? fuck, i'm sorry. you don't have to do this, you know that, right?" he can never say no to you but you want him to say no if that's what he wants. euijoo's lips tug into a little smirk and he shakes his head, dipping down to place a soft kiss on your lips, nudging against them playfully. "you're not going to make me stop now, right?"

cr. cafekitsune for mdni banners ♡

#GIVE ME ALL THE TENSION I LOVE TENSION #all team #k #fuma #ej #&team smut #andteam smut #multiland #nicho

[railingsofsorrow]

Countdown

[s.reid x reader]

summary: Blood and wine were indistinguishable. You couldn't move, you couldn't breathe, the world was giving up on you (or was it the other way around?). You had to keep fighting. If there's one thing you are sure of is that they would find you. He would find you. You just didn't know how much longer you could take until then.

pairing: s.reid x f!reader

w.c: 6.7K

warnings/content: mentions of freud regarding complex mother/son relationships; tw!aggravated assault; tw!coercion caused by substance use; tw!mentions of child abuse, physical and emotional abuse; very tw!graphic violence be aware; tw!blood; tw!descriptions of injuries and scars; cursing; tw!suicide ideation; mentions of hallucinations, tw!abduction and tw!death of a relative; heavy descriptions of losing sense of time; crying; cm usual stuff; poor analysis of a profile cause I'm no aaron hotchner; in resume there's angst; mc cannot get a break. (tell me if I forgot anything plz)

A/N: oof that's a lot of trigger warnings. if you don't feel comfortable, feel free to leave, this isn't a light fic, quite the opposite. mc goes through a LOT. btw do you like wine? I do. (no pun intended) enjoy the reading!

navi

masterpost

follower celebration

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Suffering is a terrible fire;

it either purifies

or destroys.”

[Oscar Wilde]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

According to Sigmund Freud, there’s a theory called “the Oedipus complex”. It happens when the child develops a sexual attraction to the opposite-sex parent, meaning that they wish to replace his father to possess his mother, from whom he craves affection. 

Spencer’s voice rang through your head as you observed your surroundings. Your hands weren’t tied anymore but the red marks around your wrists made you feel as if the ropes were still there.

There are five stages in this condition, the fifth being the hardest to overcome, but not impossible. However, when the Oedipus complex is not resolved it could lead to an unhealthy attachment towards the opposite-sex parent in adulthood, besides the commitment issues and trouble involving same-sex rivalry. 

You also recalled the Doctor detailing statistics about the topic, wildly gesticulating with his hands. But your head was fuzzy and you didn’t know whether your memories were true or if you were making them up anymore. Just as a means to bring you some type of comfort in that endless torture.

He was drugging you. 

Paul Knox, the UnSub, was a white male in his mid-forties. Lived alone for most of his life, except for when he married Martha Moore; they stayed together for one year before the marriage ended. Paul worked on a construction site and was described by his coworkers as quiet, “always kept to himself”, and responsible. He always made sure his task of the day was completed before he went home. 

His past wasn’t the easiest one. And it seemed as if he couldn’t get away from it. Paul spent his entire childhood being abused by both of his parents, his father, a strict man, sexually abused his wife, who would later take out her anger on her son, by wrapping a belt around his neck and squeezing it until he passed out — This was the signature behavior they found on the crime scenes. 

Victimology told you and the team something as clear as day: every woman he murdered was a surrogate to his mother. 

And you concluded you had pissed him off enough for him to abduct you and keep you the same way he was keeping his victims. 

When you woke up, the only thing you could see was blood.  

Blood whenever you stepped.  

On your hands. 

On your arms.  

On your lips.  

You could even taste the metallic liquid. And that made you terrified. Not more terrified – of course – than being locked up in a place for god-knows-how-long without a sense of reality. There was a physical fight hours before—or was it days? You couldn't know, time was different where you were. You had a slight chance of speculating if it was day or night due to the minimum crack on one of the walls. Your pinky would fit if anything.  

You succeeded in breaking a plate of food he had brought at the back of his head; which barely confused the man as you attempted to sprint towards the door. Well, You did try. Right as you reached the gate, he yanked your hair back and knocked you out on a solid surface.  

When you woke up, the first thought that crossed your mind was I'm dead. 

You weren’t. 

Thankfully, you had just passed out. Again.  

Letting out a painful breath, you forced your eyes to stay open. You had to keep trying, you weren’t about to let him win that easily. Before your team found you — if they hadn’t already — you had to buy yourself some time. Once his obsession exceeds its peak, you wouldn't stand a chance.

The sound of another shard of glass clicking against the floor disturbed that deafening silence. Although, no more than actually taking a piece of glass out of your flesh.  

You moaned in pain when it was finally out. Maybe being shot would hurt less because I'd blackout. But this hurts like a bitch.

Your breathing was unsteady and you were hyperventilating. There were at least five breathing exercises running through your head as you surveyed the room, looking for a way out. You had been placed in another corner. It was still the same room, but you were seeing it from another angle. This time you could walk; barely, but still. You refused to look at your feet with the trail of blood it left as you walked. 

Focus. You need to find a way out.  

You're a profiler. Profile him.  

Forty-five.  

White male.  

Abandonment issues caused by his mother leaving him at the age of nine years old. 

Each victim was a surrogate to his mother; he kept them for two days and then wrapped a belt around their throats to slash it postmortem. That's his M.O.

You had none of the victim characteristics. You were only unfortunate to be in the right place at the wrong time. 

Emily and you were sent to investigate the supposed location the UnSub took his victims to; an old apartment downtown. However, he was onto you as soon as you entered the place. In a moment of distraction, you had been swiped with a chloroform wipe before Emily could blink.  

What a cliché way to abduct someone.

On the first day, he covered your mouth with a dirty blanket but kept your hands and feet tied up tightly around a chair. You complied with everything he said, claiming you understood him and that he was so much better than his mother. Wrong move. At the mere mention of her, the guy completely lost it. 

You could still feel the slap that made your head turn. No doubt his fingers were marked on your cheek.   

Then, radio silence. Your brain worked wildly as you started to analyze your surroundings with undivided attention. There were two dark shelves a few meters away from you and a few boxes scattered around. The room was extremely dark, no windows, and carried a bitter smell. The floor was a blur to you, you didn't know were you were stepping.

Countless bottles on the shelves. It almost reminded you of—

Wait.

There was barely any light in the room, only through that tiny hole in the wall. You assumed it was around evening because of where the angle the shadow was reflecting upon. 

1978. Read on the bottle.  

This is a wine bottle.  

I'm in a wine cellar.

Your happiness was short-lived as your vision blurred, causing you to stumble back slightly. 

The bottle slipped from your fingers.  

Your mind goes into wildfire when your feet stepped onto something sharp and, immediately, the familiar sensation of it deepening into your skin. You never realized your body was falling, the only thing you could actually grasp onto was the pain, the agony you felt. Your screams echoed through the walls, then your tears joined as a company.

Blood and wine were indistinguishable. 

Your vision begins to gloss over, dark spots covering your eyes from reality. It would be only a matter of time until you drifted off again. Was it sad to say that the sensation was becoming familiar? It shouldn't be. You should be fighting for survival.

But your legs had pieces of glass sticking out and your left hand throbbed from an open wound from another piece you had pulled out. 

You heaved a shaky exhale, grunting as you tried to step back from the broken bottle. Daring to take a look at your legs was the last you did before the door creaked open, a bitter smile spreading on your dry lips. 

“Shit.”

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

The BAU’s technical analyst typed fast on her computer, her eyes quickly swapping between each screen. She was checking into possible locations Paul Knox could've taken his victims, excluding where the last body was found. His M.O. changed drastically from one night to the other, which meant he was escalating. And angry, extremely angry — Garcia couldn’t imagine something else after hearing the news you had been taken. 

“As if this couldn’t get any more creepy…” The blonde mumbled under her breath, eyes scanning over her newfound footage. It was a big house, colonial style colored with a pastel yellow on its walls. The picture showed the Knox’s posing for the camera; mother, son, and husband. Left to right. Something irked her in that image and that’s why she hadn’t dwelled on it when they were looking for the prime suspects’ background. His first home wasn’t relevant, he didn't take his victims there. 

They had been so wrong. 

Her server picked up on a distinct signal. One that shouldn't be there in such an old building. 

“He films it. Everything.” Emily handled five of the eighteen tapes they found in the UnSub’s apartment. Derek shook his head as he saw many names written on each of them.

“There’re eighteen here.” You frowned, counting for the third time. “It’s supposed to be seventeen. We found seventeen bodies.”

“We haven’t found the last one yet.” 

And this is how you disappeared from their radar. The eighteenth woman was not found and you were abducted from right under their noses the night after you figured he kept souvenirs from his victims. Necklaces, earrings and those awful recordings. 

When Penelope succeeded in hacking into the system, a camera was functioning properly. Just one. The place was dark, but the camera provided a poor lightening and from that, her breath caught in her throat. 

“Oh, my god.” The technical analyst covered her mouth in astonishment. There you were, on her computer screen. There was no doubt. She's worked with you in the same environment for nearly five years. You were friends, coworkers, partners in crime. She knew you. And that was breaking her heart.

You were thrown over the floor against a shelf, your head lolling to the side as if you were too weak to lift it. “No, no, no,” Garcia exclaimed, tears trailing down her cheeks and ruining her make-up. The floor was damp with something and she can't even imagine what it was. 

“Garcia?” Hotch's voice spoke through their connected microphone. “What is it?”  

She had completely forgotten she was in a connected call. 

The team was in the round table room, trying to figure out your whereabouts with the help of the clues they had until now. Which were minimal. They were very behind in the UnSub's game.  

Garcia's gasp made everyone quit their work, to simply stare at the machine anxiously and wait for the woman's next words.  

“We have to find her. Now!” Nothing else can stand out through the line like Penelope's frantic fingers typing fast.

Derek is the first to ask for clarification, “Baby girl, give us something. What happened?”  

By now, everyone was on the edge of their seats with the tension. 

The line pauses, and before anyone could complain, Penelope interjects in a weak voice, “Come to my cave. You need to see this.”  

Once they arrive in Penelope's office, the sight is more than they expected. Way more.  

The door opened and a figure walked into the dark room. They all watched with bated breath as Paul Knox crouched down to your weak body, drawing a hand to run through your cheek. 

“That son of a—”

“What is that?” Spencer cut Derek off, eyes glued to the man's pocket, something was sticking out of it. His mind works faster than any other, the likelihood of the team having a breakthrough during a case because of his inputs is huge and he's quite proud of that — even though Spencer doesn't give himself much credit. 

He feels the dumbest in the room right now. 

Not only did he lose you the night you were taken but he couldn't find you. The geographical profile was redone five times by him, he analyzed every detail over and over again, his brain was on fire. But he failed. He failed. How could he do that when you needed him the most? Where was his knowledge and IQ of 187 when he needed it?

Penelope turned off the screen on an impulse, earning discontent reactions from everyone else. She didn't answer them as lots of things started popping up on the other computer screen. 

“Garcia.” Spencer presses, jaw clenched. He was really trying to not yell at the technical analyst to find a location fucking faster or else instead of a living agent they would find a body to bury.  

No. No, that wouldn't happen. That couldn't happen.

“I'm trying!” 

“Try harder!” He yelled, causing every eye to give him impressed looks. Spencer Reid doesn’t scream, he doesn’t raise his voice, he doesn’t lose his cool. But he had never seen you in a pool of your own blood in an unknown place as a hostage before. He had never been so powerless. “He's gonna do something!” He reasoned his outburst with the team. How weren't they desperately losing their minds? Was this what they were like when he had been kidnapped by Tobias Hankel? Extremely collected and calm, just like in any other case? “Are we just going to sit here and watch? This is Y/N!”

The sound of the footage suddenly burst through the cave, causing everyone to freeze up. 

“Stop. No, n— what is that? Get the fuck away from me— No!”

“Oh, my god,” Emily mumbles with a hand over her mouth. They weren’t able to see the footage, but hearing your screams was just as painful.

“Reid,” Hotch warned, knowing how hard this was being on him. He shouldn't stay there, it would only make things worse, as much as it pained Aaron what was happening — he was your friend before he was your boss — the situation required him to be the levelheaded one. He couldn't jeopardize your safety because of emotions. “Go take a walk.”

“No.” was Spencer's reply. Before he could snap at anyone else and make the tension in the room increase, a hand squeezed his shoulder.  

“C'mon, kid.” Derek tugged his forearm.

“I'm not going anywhere—” 

“Yes, yes, you are.” Derek sends him a pointed look, pushing him out of the room “C'mon, let's take a walk. Being like this isn't gonna help us find her.”

“Look,” JJ points to the moving image, Penelope had turned it back on due to Hotch’s request. They were too close to figure out your location and they needed to grasp every detail of wherever that room was. “It’s that a… needle?” That can’t be happening. Not again. JJ flinched back as the syringe was pressed against your neck and your cries started to quieten up. She had seen that film before, it was just a continuous nightmare by now. Spencer’s limp body flashed through her mind, a terrible flashback. Now, you. It wasn’t fair. Hotch took her out of her inner turmoil to say they had found her location. Emily was already out of the room.

“Find our girl. Please, find her.” Penelope gave her a pleading look, her glasses were smeared with tears.

Jenifer didn’t need to be told twice.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Next time you woke up you saw metal bars. There was a steady dripping sound resonating around. You didn't know where it came from, your senses were compromised by your dizziness; sometimes it was distant, sometimes it was right by your side. 

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Always three times then a pause. 

Paul had put you in a cage. That much was clear, the quadrangle shape along with the metal bars. You could barely stretch out your legs all the way due to the limited space. 

Something stirred in your sight and you realized you weren't alone in the room. He's still here.

Where are your instincts? Where are the tactics you use to save someone almost every day? And why aren't you making use of them right now?

The dripping stopped. 

Something creaked and your face was being touched. Feeling the familiar reaction of a panic attack approaching, you tried to regulate your breath. This was not the time. You thought. But again, have you had control over anything over these past few days?  

“Don't cry. I won't hurt you.”

When you got out of the high of whatever substance he had injected into your system, you winced at the numbness in your left foot. You moved your limbs around, attempting to sit down. He had cleaned you up. You were in different clothes, too. And the blood was gone. 

He touched me.

Hetouchedmehetouchedmehetouchedmehetouchedm—

Stay focused.  

“13…11…9…7.” You started counting in the odd-numbered pattern you learnt calms you down. “5…3…1…13— What is—” a red light in a corner of the room glinted at you. “Are you recording me?” You exhaled harshly, squinting your eyes. No, that wasn't the dizziness. The red light was probably there the whole time, but it remained unnoticeable. A wave of drowsiness almost knocks you out again but instead, you squeeze your nails against your tight to prevent sleeping — pain was better than the unknown. You didn't know what he did when you were out of it, though you had an idea just a minute ago. “You enjoy your souvenirs, don't you? Sick bastard!”  

You're losing your temper, control yourself. 

I can't.

I need to get out of here. I need to GET OUT.

“Let me out.” You whispered to nothing. 

What takes you to a breaking point? Being held captive by a sociopath maniac or not knowing what to do to escape it? 

All of your qualifications went down the drain. Suddenly you didn't have a PhD in Biopsychology.

Survival mode originally evolved to help us handle threats and situations that activate our stress-response systems. When the alternative does not involve escape or fighting, we are wired to freeze, a state of hyperarousal. 

It's always better to go ahead with the instructions, otherwise, you might touch a rough spot and their only response will be to eliminate their target. 

Your friends’ voices rang through your brain as if they were supposed to help you somehow. 

The walls were closing in, rationality was out of the picture.

“Let me out of here, please!”

“Stop screaming. No one will hear.” 

You turned towards the door, jaw clenching. You weren't just weak, you were angry. That shouldn't be happening to you, you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time and he took advantage of that. 

“They will catch you.” You spat out. “You don't have a chance once they find you, Paul.”

He nodded, crouching down in front of the cage, hands gripping the sidebars. “I'm aware of that.”

That made you freeze. 

So it was an all-or-nothing situation? If your probability of getting out of that alive was slim, now it was just ridiculous.

“You need to learn a lesson.” He said, unlocking the cage and crawling in. As much as you tucked yourself in the corner, he was still able to touch you, he was still able to be desperately close. “Beautiful, beautiful, Daisy... Why'd you hurt me like that?”  

Daisy. 

Daisy…

“Daisy... I did everything you asked me too. Why'd you leave me with him? The bad man? Why?”

The bad man.  

Daisy and Caleb Knox, those were Paul’s parents. 

At the age of nine Daisy left Paul to Caleb's care and ran away. She was never found.

It's always better to go ahead with the instructions. Play into his fantasy. 

“I'm— I'm sorry,” you croaked out, testing the waters.  

“Are you really?”  

“He made...” Taking a deep breath You felt your tongue heavy and your head spin. You would pass out any minute. How much longer would you handle without food? You can't remember the last time you ate. “... he made me— do that. I wanted to protect you. I did. But he didn't— he didn't let me,” your breath was shallow and you felt yourself floating.   

Stay awake.  

“Liar.” He mumbled after a while. “Liar!” You didn't expect the slap when it came. The force made you stumble back, pressing your eyes and groaning in pain. “How can you keep lying to me after all these years? You slut! I was alone! With him!”  

“I understand,” you replied, shakily, licking your lips as the copper taste filled your tastebuds. “But— but you love me. Don't you?” Opening your eyes, you realized he was a little farther than you expected. His eyes stared right into your soul with a kind of regret and disgust you had never seen. “You were always a good kid, Paul... Would never hurt your mom. Because you're good. Aren't you?”  

A lot of things were at stake there. your life, mostly. If you as much as stepped into his anger then you would be done for.  

In a blink of an eye he was in front of you again, “I am. I-I I am, mom.” Mom. That's good. He's falling for it. You could save your vomit for later. 

Then, you saw the belt. The same one he uses on the victims for the final kill. 

Death wasn't a thing to be afraid of. It's simply another part of life. Or, for the believers, eternal life.  

You have never been scared of death in your twenty-five years of living. Not when the situation was related to you, at least. Which was completely different if someone on your team got injured badly, let alone your boyfriend. You didn't know what it was that whenever you were in danger's ways, no fear would kick in, only the nice feeling of adrenaline running through your veins.  

However, this wasn't like most cases. You knew this one would break you to the core. You would never be the same after that. If you even get the chance to say after this case. Spencer had this experience. He had been abducted and tortured by Tobias Hankel; you've seen how the trauma affected him till this day.  

You wondered if Spencer thought if he would get out alive. You wondered if, at some point in that cabin in the woods, he contemplated death as an alternative. Because God knew you were considering it.  

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Aaron Hotchner marched forward to the backyard of the Knox Mansion as Derek Morgan went in through the backdoor. Spencer Reid and Jennifer Jereau were ordered to enter through the front door.

The two-story manor carried a sense of luxury, although the smell was of something rotten from years back.  

It was clear that the inheritance Paul Knox gained from his father had vanished as it had come. The house was almost in ruins, the strong smell of mold all around the walls immediately hit the newcomers. Derek and Aaron met inside close to the living room.  

“It's all clear around the kitchen, Rossi,” Derek said, looking around and studying his surroundings. He quickly covered his nose when the smell reached his nostrils. “What is that smell?!”  

“I don't know,” Rossi replied, kicking a knocked-over chair. “ There's been a struggle.” 

Derek nodded, pointing towards a line of blood leading to the kitchen. It ended there.

“We're running out of time.” Spencer walked in the kitchen with JJ on his trail. “This is useless. She won't be up here. The camera Garcia hacked showed a dark room and it pointed to a door. Possibly the only way in and out.”

JJ nodded in affirmation, shoulders tensing. “Maybe a basement? There's no guest house, right?”

“There's a basement outside.” Rossi clarified. “Hotch is searching there. JJ and Reid search the second floor, Morgan and Prentiss you take the attic. I'll check that ridiculously big greenhouse outside.”  

“It's not a basement,” Spencer said, cursing under his breath. Everyone stared at him confusedly. “That was not a basement. It—It looks like one. It's supposed to look like one but didn't you see the bottles and the shelves in the footage? And the liquid when she—” he sucked in a breath. “That's a wine cellar.” He concluded. How couldn't he have seen it before? It was being thrown at his face.

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Hotch stepped towards the wood doors, drawing out his gun to tear apart the locket.

He tried as much as he could not to make a sound as he walked down the basement doors. If the smell in the house was bad, down there was suffocating.

“Paul, Paul listen to me! I'm sorry that I left, I'm sorry!” 

He halted, surveying the area carefully. It was dark, but his weapon light helped him have a grip on his surroundings. That had definitely been your voice. 

“Is Carina here?” 

There was a pause.

Carina Grace. One of the missing girls, probably the eighteenth victim of Paul Knox.

“You told me I wasn't alone before, is she here, too, Paul?” 

That was a bold move. Hotch knew what you were doing, despite the situation you were still doing your job, but this wouldn't end well.

“You have never been alone.”

Your crying out made him approach fast as he followed the sound. That place could fool anyone by the sight of it before you entered. The wood doors made it look like a small corner, but Hotch could see it as a masked labyrinth. 

He kept aiming his gun ahead, entering a room of what he supposed was a wine cellar. Slow and steady steps guided by his instincts; his eyes surveyed every corner of the room until three tall shelves came into sight— and a shadow reflected by the sunlight that entered the only small window in the room.  

His eyes narrowed when he saw it move and the silhouette of a gun was pressed to its hand. Hotch swiftly hid behind a near concrete pillar just as the man shot twice in the previous direction he had been in.  

Idiot. Aaron mentally cursed, eyeing the only part of the room he hadn't checked yet, behind the shelves.  

He saw a glimpse of metal. The UnSub was armed. 

“Found her badge and bullet proof vest up here, Hotch.” JJ's voice rang through the radio. Loud enough for only Aaron to hear, thankfully. “The perimeters are being checked but I don't think—” He could hear the strain in her voice.

“The wine cellar isn't clear, yet.” Hotch said with his tone contained, eyes glued to the UnSub's shadow. He hasn't moved. What was this asshole planning to do? “He's here. Block all exits.”  

“What about her?” 

“She's here, too,” Hotch replied to Reid, squinting at the moving silhouette.

“You're in the basement, aren't you?” He breathed out at the sound of Emily's voice. 

“Yes.” 

“I'll meet you there.”

“There's another body here and he's armed.” Be careful. 

Emily spoke to someone else and then he tuned everything out. 

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

“Spencer!” JJ tried to pull him back but he yanked his arm out of her reach, sprinting towards the backyard. “Would you calm down? You can't barge in like this!” She hissed in frustration. 

He turned back and said through gritted-teeth. “If it were Will, would you be calm?”

She blinked at him, opening and closing her mouth in shock. “I—”

“You know how I feel, you've been there, so why do you keep asking me to calm down?” Spencer spat out. 

JJ silently approached him by the entrance, swallowing the guilt her whole body was drowning in. “I'm sorry. I'm just trying to make you think, alright? Spence, she needs all of us. She needs you, so we need to think straight. Our goal is to get her out.” Alive.

“Do you think we can?”

He asked softly, voice small. 

She squeezed his shoulder and widened the basement opening. “Yes, we can.” She stepped in, turning to him before he could enter. “Don't step away from me. We don't split up, ever, deal?” 

That was something she always said whenever they were paired up in a situation like that. And that's when Spencer noticed that what he suffered didn't just affect him, but everyone else around him. 

“Okay.”

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

Hotch had finally caught sight of you. He could see your frame in a corner of the wall, the sunlight didn't help him visualize anything, it was too minimal. He didn't know whether you were awake or— he couldn't see. “Paul, do you think your mother would be proud of that behavior? Killing women? Hurting them?” He needed to get closer and for that, he had to get inside his mind.

“You don't understand,” Paul said calmly. Hotch hears beneath that contained tone, he was a walking time bomb. But they were on countdown before your location was even found, the team knew who Paul was, they knew how he escalated in the last weeks, and they knew his weak spot, too. 

“You're right,” Hotch said, craning his neck to the side when he saw your voice. More like a whimper. Low, discreet, but there. You were alive. And he intended on keeping that way. “I don't understand. I didn't go through what you did. I was not left in a house by someone that's supposed to care for me. I was not left to a parent that never loved me.”

Silence. 

“Paul. She deserves everything you did to her. Every beating. Every truth spat out on her face. Every day locked up here. She was supposed to be a good mother back then, why is she trying now, after all.”

“She never loved me.”

Bingo.

“Is that what you think?”

There was shuffling around and then a gun was pointing directly at him, but Hotch had a shelf to cover behind. Paul was finally in his aim, vulnerable. Not yet.

“Do you think people change, Agent?” Paul asked him, cocking the gun at him mockingly. He then looked back at you, tongue moving across his lips slowly. “I don't think so. That's why I didn't kill her. Yet.” 

You said something else but Hotch couldn't hear. He wasn't close enough. You weren't safe yet. Not yet.

The clock was ticking. 

“For some people, death is just another way out.” 

Everything happened so fast his mind didn't grasp it until it happened. 

He heard a click. Then the sound of gunfire exploded through the wine cellar. 

Paul Knox was on the floor, his head had two gunshot wounds on the forehead and blood leaked through it. Eyes wide open. He didn't see it coming. 

Quick and effective. 

A perfect aim to kill. 

He thought it would be Emily at the entrance, gun pointing right at Paul's head. He's seen her frustration at herself for losing you that day, it was a matter of time until she snapped. 

But he was met with Spencer Reid barging into the wine cellar instead. A stunned JJ frozen at the entrance.

Reid's movements carried no hesitation as he dashed towards the body, snatched the keys out of his pockets and stepped back to unlock the cage you were in. 

It was foolish to check if he was still alive. Two shots to the head -  that was the outcome Hotch didn't want. Paul Knox was supposed to go to jail for the rest of his life. Because of the victims he terrorized, because of the days he stole from one of his own that she would never get back. 

“We found Carina.” Derek told him as they watched you being pulled into the ambulance. He didn't need to be told that they only found her body. Carina Grace had been missing for a month. “Same way as the other girls.”

“Safe to say he won't be dreaming about hurting anyone else.” Rossi made the comment as a body bag was transferred out of the wine cellar.

Hotch glanced towards Reid, who had just entered the ambulance by your side. 

He would lecture him later. The only thing that mattered now was that you were safe. 

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

When you fluttered your eyes open, you quickly shut them again. The lights were strong and forceful. Light. Was this the sunlight? Had he dumped your body somewhere? Were you finally dead and this was your spirit floating over what was left of you?

You hadn't felt that cool air in days. It almost felt like air-conditioning. A soft fabric wrinkled between your fingers and your leg… you could move it. You could feel it. There was no numbness.

“Take a deep breath. It's okay, you're safe.”

You're hallucinating. Because what you were hearing didn't make any sense. It couldn't be. Your head was searching for ways to bring your relief. That's the only reasonable answer. 

Reasonable. What about this situation is reasonable?

“You're safe,” He repeated. 

You forced your eyelids open, despite the bothersome whiteness. The first thing you saw was Spencer, his honey brown eyes with heavy bags of sleepless nights around them, his soft smile that threatened to spill the sadness hanging over him. 

You could touch his hand. 

But the calm doesn't last for long. 

“You're not here.” You snatched your fingers away. 

This is not real. I'm dreaming again.

Hurt flashed through his eyes. “I am.”

“That's not you.”

“That's me, sweetheart. This is real, we got you out—”

“No!” 

He flinched back, watching as the heart monitor went off. A group of nurses entered the room to check the commotion; it took five people to hold you down. He never saw you like that. That's anger, that pain. He'd never seen it in your eyes. JJ had to pull him out of the room otherwise he would stay there, frozen. 

You weren't seeing him. 

He provoked that nervous breakdown. 

“Stop. Hey, don't do this,” he could feel air entering his lungs but his chest hurt. “Spencer, this isn't—”

“Don't.” He said shortly, shaking his head. “I shouldn't have…” He stared at his hands as if they had committed a crime, trying to blink away his tears. 

“This isn't your fault, Spence.”

“I should've figured it out sooner.” He said, burying his head between his hands. “I do it all the time. Why couldn't I do it now, why couldn't I find her sooner?” 

Sobs racked through his body and he felt arms wrapping around him some sort of comfort. He didn't feel it. He wanted you. He wanted to make you feel better, he didn't need to be taken care of. He didn't deserve it. 

“It wasn't your fault,” JJ repeated, tightening her hold on him. “We were all in this. And she's fine now. She's safe.”

“She'll never be fine again.” He mumbled through her shirt. It physically pained him to see you like this, as if your mind was playing you. The worst was that he knew what that felt like. He wished he didn't. Actually, he wished that it was him instead. He'd go through it all again just to spare you of that trauma. That haunting pain that would follow you and make you doubt everything. 

He didn’t mean that he didn’t want you to be fine, of course, he wanted it. That kind of trauma, however, doesn’t just let you go, it’s like a shadow looming over you, a tall ghost. 

I should've found her sooner. He couldn't stop thinking that. I should've found her sooner.

An hour passed and nobody moved from the waiting room. They were anxious and on edge waiting for an update. Penelope had drifted off on Derek's shoulder a few minutes ago, Emily had bitten all of her cuticles as much as Rossi reprimanded her on it, Hotch would leave and come back with coffee refills and JJ had left a while ago to speak to Will and her kids. As for Spencer, he was just there. Not mentally, just physically. 

He needed to see you okay to function again.

“She'll need you.” He snapped around to Hotch's voice. At some point, his feet reached the end of the hall, a cup of water in his hands. He wasn't even thirsty. “She'll need you when she wakes up. More than anyone else.” His boss added. 

Spencer knew what he meant by that. It wasn't just in the literal sense. 

“I know.” He responded.

“Then you need to be there.”

Get a grip on yourself. 

“I will.” Spencer swallowed hard, looking up at him. “I will.” He repeated, throwing the cup on the trash can and taking a deep breath. Hotch squeezed his shoulder reassuringly on his way back. 

When the doctor called him back to the room, you were already awake. 

✫・゜・。✫・゜・。

“Spencer?”  

You croaked out, blinking multiple times to undo the blurred image of the long-haired genius. 

“Hi,” he replied, lowering to the seat beside your bed. You oversaw his movements carefully. He looked shaken up but he mustered one of those smiles you were done for from the first day you walked in the Bureau.

“Can you tell me something?” You requested, clearing your throat. You didn’t trust your senses, but it sounded and looked like your boyfriend. Your mind couldn’t play sturdy tricks like that, could it? 

Outsretching your arm long enough to reach him, you nudged his hand. He pulled the chair closer and intertwined your fingers. That was the first time you felt warmth in days.

“What about?” 

“Something only you would know.”

Bring me back to reality.

He sighed, lifting your palm to his cheek. “You hate the color gray,” his eyes locked into yours as he recalled your words from a few months ago when you had revealed this to him. “It was your brother's favorite color. He wore it all the time. When he died, you could never look at anything gray because it would remind you of him.”

You stayed quiet. 

“You hate when people keep telling you to wear your hair down because it looks pretty. You know it does, but you feel uncomfortable with the strands touching your neck. You love sunlight the same amount you love cloudy days �� not thunderstorms, you’re scared of those. Especially lightning.” You let out a tearful chuckle to which he grinned. “You have a tattoo on the inner side of your left thigh, it's the page number and the line order of your favorite Norwegian Wood edition, your favorite book. You had a secret obsession with the theme from that animated movie…” his voice trailed off, a crease between his brows. 

“You mean Let it go from Frozen?”

Spencer’s lips twisted in a pout, “Sorry if I don’t know that much about pop culture.”

“You’re hopeless at it, Spence.”

“I’m not that bad.” He rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How are you feeling?” He asked, eyes softening. You traced the tip of his nose, eyes scanning his features so you’d cement it to your brain.

“Better,” you replied. It was the truth. He nodded, brushing a strand behind your ear gently. “Thank you.” 

Spencer lifted his chin to glimpse at you, disappointment draping over his gaze. “I didn’t do anything.” Disappointment at himself. The failure that he was during the case when you needed him the most. You furrowed your brows at the tear trailing down his cheek, drying it with your thumb. Reaching for his arms, you waited until he adjusted enough at the edge of your bed so you could rest your head on his chest. His heartbeat rang through your ears like a long-awaited tune.

“I know you did, Spencer. All of you did. Hey,” you tapped his chin so he could meet your eyes. “I'm here, aren't I?”

He frowned. “You almost weren't.”

“But I am,” you insisted. Your gaze darkened and you shifted on the bed causing the thin blanket to fall off one of your legs. You were all bandaged up, literally. “You know, I… I lost track of time. After the first two days I nearly went crazy. I knew you'd find me but I— I—”

“You don't have to talk about it if you're not ready.” Spencer reassured you softly. He saw the way you stared at your legs, it was the scars beneath the bandages that you were seeing. And the ones beyond your body. “I love you,” he mumbled against your hair, caressing your arms and cradling you into his hold. “We got you out. You're safe now, alright? I promise.”

You resigned with a long breath, burying your face in his shoulder. That heaviness brewing over your thoughts vanished under his touch, wrapping safety around you instead. 

“I love you too, Spencer.” You said, curling into his side. Now that you knew you were safe, you could feel the exhaustion weighing down your eyelids. “Can you stay?” 

He hummed, tucking his chin above your head and shifting on the bed for a better position. It wasn't the most comfortable setting and you two would probably — certainly — wake up with your backs hurting. But Spencer would do anything for you.

“I won't go anywhere, don't worry.”

That was what comfort felt like. You weren't dreaming. That was real. 

The nightmare was finally over. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Isn’t it funny how day by day

nothing changes,

but when you look back,

everything is different. ”

[C.S. Lewis]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

sources used: [1]; [2]; [3]

taglist: @lilyviolets

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid angst #criminal minds imagine #countdown

[sukunasweetheart]

can i just say i love your fics SMMMM my serotonin boost fr!!! what do we think abt him with an s/o who has a lot of admirers 👁

THANK YOUU here is a treat 4 u <3

sorry i ended up doing too much and also going off-topic a bit oops

it ended up becoming modern au!sukuna 😭 forgive me (gender neutral reader)

sukuna is so used to being the one overshadowing the others - he's used to being the one admired, revered, respected, for his power and intelligence. it's safe to say he'd also be used to seeing people fight each other just for a lick of his attention - desiring for even just a glance from his way. so it's a given that he's not used to feelings of possessiveness or jealousy.

but now that he has you, someone who always has others admiring you from both closeby and afar, he's beginning to understand those petty sensations and thoughts. he's obviously never one to be insecure about your popularity, on most occasions, he even likes to make a show of it - he enjoys seeing them gnashing their teeth with envy as he flaunts his relationship with you in front of their faces - "see this? all mine," he seems to say, as he openly kisses you in public.

but when it catches him on a bad day, perhaps following a bad argument, he sees you with someone who is obviously interested in being more than just a friend to you (which you're not aware of, frustratingly so), and he starts feeling sick to his stomach. with everyone else who came before you, sukuna would simply tell them "don't like it? then leave," whenever they voiced complaints to him about their relationship... but now it's the opposite of what he wants. just the thought of you being with someone that isn't him gets his heart dropping to the ground, making him feel restless.

he knows he isn't the best at being soft. nor at using the kindest words when he gets heated. he'll always be more selfish than selfless, and he's not the most emotionally intelligent. it's unlike him to use words like 'i'm sorry' or 'i love you' so he's uneasy for the moment where you might find someone who'll be everything that he isn't amongst your sea of admirers, and that you'll leave him and never look back.

it's simply so humiliating, feeling this way... he's not sure what to do about it. you seem to be seriously upset this time around, and he knows brushing past it or glossing over it using his usual charm (which is a bad habit that he has) isn't going to work. you're not acknowledging him or responding to his texts properly or saying good morning or goodnight and it's driving him insane because he misses it... you're not looking at him. he's the one gazing at you, longingly.

sukuna will pin you down eventually, somewhere, somehow, and trap you so that you're not able to avoid him any longer. he'll drag you away from your stupid little crowd of spectators and talk to you in private, where'll spend ten minutes trying to apologise in a strange, roundabout and aggressive way because he knows it's his own damn fault. you know him, so you're able to recognise that he's trying to say sorry. your gaze is still elsewhere, looking off to the side instead of him. and that bothers him immensely.

"why won't you look at me?" god, he sounds so sad and pathetic.

truth is, sukuna now simply withers out and dies a little without your attention. what can he do to have that spotlight upon him once again? why are your eyes on anybody, anything, that isn't him? pay attention to me, and me only.

when you finally spare him a glance, he feels like breathing again. and he'll fight tooth and nail to keep that gaze of yours on him. fuck your insignificant and measly admirers. he's all you need, and sukuna's going to make sure of it. (he'll compromise for you, if he has to.)

he's definitely overstimming you in bed that night, in order to catch up on all the lost pride and attention that you'd deprived him of.

tagging; @gojos-thot-patrol <3 hope its to your liking.. even tho its not as angsty as i originally intended it to be haha

Masterlist

#he's basically like a cat meowing at you for attention #sukuna x reader #sukuna #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader