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chvoswxtch · 5 months

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slumber party

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader x derek morgan x spencer reid

summary: while en route to a case, the four of you let off a little steam.

warnings: all of them. every single one of them. swearing, a lil angst, derek morgan's smile, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 3.3k

a/n: let's be real. you didn't come here for a plot, and I didn't write one. enjoy this slutty vision I had in the shower. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

The jet was quiet apart from the sporadic sound of pages being flipped and Spencer’s occasional soft noises of either being intrigued or perplexed regarding details of the case, deciphered only by their volume and pitch. Hotch had read the same paragraph on the report at least seven times, and there seemed to be some kind of disconnect between his tired eyes and unresponsive brain. Letting out a quiet irritated exhale and diverting his attention to the top of the paragraph yet again, a soft noise caused his ears to perk up.

Finally looking up from the report for the first time in half an hour since he originally sat down, creases furrowed in the midst of his forehead when he glanced towards the other end of the jet and caught sight of you. From where he sat, all he could see was the back of your head since you seemed to be facing the back of the seat you were in, which he found extremely odd. But as he craned his neck, he noticed a familiar pair of hands on your hips and instantly clenched his jaw.

“Son of a bitch.”

The second Hotch shot up out of his chair, Spencer finally tore his own eyes away from the report and turned his head to follow Hotch’s angry march down the aisle of the jet with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. Now that there were no obstructions in his line of sight, Hotch had the full view of you sitting topless on Derek’s lap with your skirt bunched up around your waist, grinding your hips down in a slow but sensual rhythm. Derek’s hands were firmly grasped on your hips to help guide your movements, and his face was buried into your exposed chest.

“Morgan you greedy fucker.”

The sound of Hotch’s angry voice booming in the comfortable silence caused you to immediately tense up and stop moving, but Derek wasn’t having any of that. He gripped a little tighter onto your hip and gave your ass a light smack, pulling his head back to look at you with that dazzling smile of his that could make anyone weak in the knees.

“No no no no, keep goin’ baby girl. Don’t worry about him. You just keep doing what you’re doing…that’s it.”

Derek leaned his head back against the seat, looking over at Hotch with that same charming grin on his face. His warm chocolate brown eyes were glazed over with lust and had been eclipsed into half moons of pleasure.

“Sorry Hotch, she just looked too goddamn good.”

“What’s going on back-oh.”

As Spencer took his place beside Hotch, his eyes immediately went wide at the sight he was met with. He seemed to be completely mesmerized by the erotic flow of your hips while you languidly rode Derek’s cock as you sat topless on his lap. While Spencer was bewitched by the spell of your hips, Hotch was furious. The stern look that seemed to be his default expression was unaffected by the show taking place before him.

“Morgan, you know the rules-”

“Come on, Hotch. We still got another hour before we land. Lighten up a little. You know, some stress relief would do you a whole lotta good.”

Before Hotch had a chance to respond, Spencer was already stepping forward and unbuttoning his cardigan.

“You could’ve at least asked us to join.”

Derek let out a soft chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your smooth thighs as he flexed his hips upwards to match your pacing.

“Hey, you were the one more invested in exactly how many trees there are in the Acadia National Park than you were in the beautiful woman on the plane, pretty boy.”

“Well if I had known-”

Letting out a frustrated huff, you stopped moving and placed your hand over Derek’s mouth before turning to look at Spencer and Hotch over your shoulder.

“Boys, you know I hate it when you argue. It makes me dry up.”

Spencer dropped his forgotten cardigan on the chair behind himself, his attention solely fixed on you again. In the dim lighting of the plane, you could just barely see that the green flecks in his honey eyes had deepened into a wicked hue. He ran his fingers gently through your hair before cradling your face in one hand and starting to unbuckle his belt with the other, all while looking at you and dragging his tongue along his bottom lip.

“Don’t worry, we can get you wet again.”

“Not if you’re all standing around bickering instead of fucking me.”

Hotch wasn’t giving in, no matter how badly he wanted to. It was late, he was exhausted, he was beyond sexually frustrated, but above all he was fucking stubborn.

“There is one rule on this fucking plane. When we are en route to a case, we are focused on the case. Playtime is for after.”

Brushing Spencer’s hand away from his belt, a smirk tugged across your lips as you looked up at him and began to unbuckle it yourself, which only caused him to bite down on his bottom lip seductively. Throwing a glance over your shoulder at Hotch, you could visibly see just how pissed off he was, but as your gaze wandered down south, you could also see the outline of his impressive cock starting to strain against his pants. Sinking your teeth into your own bottom lip, you looked up at Hotch through your, flashing him a sultry smile while you teasingly unzipped Spencer’s pants slowly.

“Aw, come on, Aaron. If anyone needs some relief, it’s you. Just come have a little fun with us.”

The hardness in Hotch’s glare wavered only slightly at the provocative sound of your voice. It was an unrelenting struggle to keep his eyes focused directly on yours and to not let them roam over your body. If he let his gaze wander for even a split second to see the way your nipples were peaked from the cool air in the cabin, the way your soft hand was caressing Spencer’s cock through his pants, or the way your ass moved against Derek’s lap while you fucked him, he would break. While Derek began to flex his hips upwards a little harder to fuck up into you now that there was no longer a reason to stay quiet, you were pulling Spencer’s cock out of his briefs and leaning over to take him into your mouth.

Before he could watch you wrap your lips around Spencer’s tip, Hotch quickly looked away and stormed off towards the other end of the jet, dropping into his chair and loosening his tie with a hardened scowl on his face.

“You’re all getting written up.”

“For what?”

Derek's protest was only faintly heard since Hotch’s blood was now pounding in his ears like a high school marching band, and throbbing in other places.

“Insubordination.”

There was a slight growl to his voice as he barked back at Derek, not even bothering to look up as he angrily began to look through the case file again, but he couldn't focus. No matter how hard he tried, all he could hear was Derek and Spencer praising you in tandem as they each took an offering from your body, and the soft noises of gratitude that flowed from your lips. It was absolute fucking torture. He thought about palming himself through his pants, just to get a little reprieve without alerting any of you to his moment of weakness. But he was so fucking angry with all of you, he didn’t even want to give in.

His mind was a jumbled concoction of juxtaposed thoughts, none of which had anything to do with the case in front of him. Hotch wasn’t sure why he was so pissed off right now. It wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had joined in, it wasn’t like the four of you hadn’t done it before. It certainly would’ve put him in a better mood. But this was a big case, and Strauss had been on his ass more than usual lately, and things at the BAU had been so chaotic that the team was getting split up just to keep up with the influx of cases coming across JJ’s desk.

Maybe it was a mistake not to send you with Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss. The air always shifted when you were alone with him, Reid, and Morgan. It was inevitable. Maybe that’s why he ordered you to come with him, because even if he didn’t want to consciously admit it, subconsciously he knew that this was exactly what he needed. He needed you, and the peace that you brought him.

The sharp sound of a smack landing on flesh caught his attention, and Hotch looked up to see that the three of you had moved to the bench directly in his line of sight. Derek had his head thrown back as pounded into you from behind, occasionally smacking his hand against your ass while he grunted about how tight and wet you always were. Spencer held your hair back while he fucked your mouth, watching you as he moaned praises of what a good girl you were. Your face was obstructed by Spencer’s back, but Hotch could hear how much you were enjoying yourself, and he couldn’t look away.

As Derek and Spencer came in unison, Hotch gripped onto the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned stark white, and he inhaled a sharp breath that he let out slowly through his nose. Gritting his teeth, he glared down at the blur of black ink on the pages, listening to the sound of your angelic laughter and kisses being exchanged between the three of you. Why was he doing this to himself? Why hadn’t he just fucking given in and joined?

While Spencer was sitting on the couch with his pants around his ankles, head back against the window with a blissed out look on his face, Derek snaked his arm around your waist and pressed a soft kiss to your neck before whispering into your ear.

“Do me a favor, baby girl. Go take care of grumpy over there.”

Letting out a quiet giggle, you turned and brushed your nose against Derek’s before kissing him softly.

“Already ahead of you, D.”

Discarding your skirt completely, you dropped it in Spencer’s laugh and planted a quick kiss to his lips before sauntering down the aisle of the plane, completely naked. Hotch glanced up when he caught the smell of your familiar perfume and looked at you with a halfhearted glare. All you could do was smile at the sight of his thick brows furrowed and the permanent scowl that he always seemed to wear. You both knew he couldn’t stay mad at you, and he didn’t even put up a fight when you made him lean back against his seat so you could sit on his lap.

“Why are you so mad baby, hm?”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you ran one of your hands through his dark brown hair, giving a gentle tug at the root which earned a quiet grunt from him. As you leaned in to place featherlight kisses along his jaw, you could feel his body physically relax, as well as how much his hardened cock was straining against his pants. But despite the giveaways from his body, Hotch wouldn’t budge. He didn’t make a move to touch you, and he didn’t speak. He was always the hardest of the three to break, but you knew exactly where his weak points were.

“Oh, you don’t wanna talk, huh? That’s okay. I’d prefer to do something else with my mouth right now anyway.”

Gently biting down on his earlobe, you felt his thighs tense up beneath you and a quiet grunt sound from his chest, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly. As you got off his lap, you slowly got down onto your knees in front of Hotch and unbuckled his belt. Since he was already in a sour mood, you decided to skip the teasing, and honestly you were so turned on yourself that you didn’t have the patience for it.

He was trying so hard not to give in while you were pulling the leather of his belt out of the buckle, and even as you were unbuttoning his pants and tugging down the zipper, he was trying to appear completely unbothered while looking at the case files. But the second he felt your luscious lips wrap around the throbbing head of his cock that was slick with pre-cum, he completely lost it.

Letting his head fall back against the seat, he closed his eyes and his lips parted as he focused solely on the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue sliding against the underside of his sensitive tip. In that moment he completely forgot whatever he was mad about. Every single coherent thought in his head vanished, and all that was left was you.

You don’t mind when he slips his hand into your hair and grips at it roughly, or when he starts to push his hips upwards to seek out more. It was rare that Hotch ever gave in to his selfish desires, and you were all too eager to let him. The sight above you was one you wished you could frame. His dark brown hair was messy from you running your fingers through it and his eyes were peacefully screwed shut. There was a twinge of heat covering his cheeks, and his lips were parted further as heavy pants and soft whimpers escaped. Those little noises only make you want to steal more of them from the man that was normally so stoic and closed off.

All of a sudden, Hotch roughly pulled at your hair causing you to moan around him. He grunted while leaning down to slip his hands under your arms, pulling you up from your knees and shoving all the reports off the table in front of him carelessly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hips and lifted you up onto the table, and you immediately spread your legs wide for him to slot through. Without wasting another second, Hotch pulled you towards the edge of the table and easily slipped his thick cock inside your drenched pussy. Both of you moaned simultaneously at the contact, and he only faltered for a second before he started to aggressively snap his hips against yours.

Faintly, you can hear Derek whistling from the other side of the plane and the sound of him clapping as he calls out to Hotch.

“There he is. Come on, Hotch. Give us a show.”

When you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, Hotch wrapped one of his large hands around your throat and lightly squeezed. You can tell he’s still frustrated by the feral way he’s fucking you against the table, but you can feel just how badly he needs this release. Sneaking one of your hands down to play with your clit, you only get away with it for a few seconds before Hotch roughly smacks your hand away and tightens his grip on your throat. He replaces your hand with his own and starts to furiously rub quick circles over your sensitive clit, tearing a sharp moan from your chest. You can feel how close he is already by the way his rhythm starts to falter. When he speaks, his voice is so low and husky that it almost sounds like a growl.

“You insatiable little slut. You haven’t come enough already? You think you deserve to come again after the way you’ve been acting?”

“Aaron-”

“Shut up.”

The only thing you can hear over the obscene sound of Hotch’s thighs smacking against your ass with every powerful thrust and the lewd squelching of his cock disappearing over and over inside your tight cunt is the dark chuckle that sounded from Spencer before he spoke.

“Uh oh, someone pissed off Daddy.”

The way you moan Hotch’s name nearly has him combusting right there. When he starts to rub your clit harder, your jaw becomes unhinged and hangs open, but nothing comes out. You can’t speak, you can’t even make a sound. Hotch grunts as his pace becomes even more fervent and brutal. He was fucking you with everything he had, using your body to expel every ounce of pent up frustration, and you were already ascending into the clouds.

“You wanna come so fucking badly? Then do it.”

The tightening of your cunt around his cock sends both of you over the edge, and both of your moans seem to echo in the small space of the cabin. Hotch continues to fuck you wildly through his orgasm, gripping onto the edge of the table to steady himself. Once he starts to slow down after emptying himself inside of you completely, the blissed out smile that replaces the frown on his mouth makes you giggle, and it causes him to finally open his eyes and look down at you with an arch of his brow.

“What?”

“Better?”

Hotch just stares down at you for a moment with slightly narrowed eyes before he finally gives in, his lips parting into that wide grin that you love so much but rarely get to see. Taking a moment to catch his breath, a light chuckle leaves him as he gazes down at you with softer eyes this time and brushes your hair away from your face gently.

“You know, the whole point of me being your boss is you’re supposed to actually listen to me.”

“You of all people know I listen very well.”

The sultry tone of your voice and the implications behind it caused Hotch to smirk, and you can feel the effect it has when you feel his cock twitch inside of you. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against your own and gave your ass a light smack.

“When you’re being a good girl and not such a brat.”

A soft noise of surprise left your lips when he smacked your ass, and you giggled while grabbing his face in your hands to pull him in for a soft and slow kiss.

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

Rolling his eyes, Hotch reluctantly pulled out of you with a soft hiss and helped you down from the table. He ran one of his hands through his hair and took another deep breath before tucking his softened cock back into his pants.

“Alright, everyone back to work.”

“Wait, everyone got to fuck her but me, that’s not fair.”

Hotch glanced down at his watch on his wrist before looking over at Spencer, shooting him a pointed look when he caught the slight pout on Spencer’s lips.

“We’re landing in twenty minutes and we still need to prep.”

As Spencer began to protest, you walked over towards him and placed your hand on his chest, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek with a mischievous grin.

“Don’t worry, Spence. I’ll share a room with you tonight, and you can fuck me all you want.”

Spencer’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas, but Derek and Hotch immediately began to protest as they shared a look before staring at the two of you with looks of frustration.

“Whoa whoa whoa-“

“That’s not-“

Spencer wrapped his arms around you to pull you in, bending down to kiss you deeply while grabbing a handful of your ass to squeeze tightly causing you to giggle. He nipped at your bottom lip before turning to look at Hotch and Derek with a smug smirk.

“Don’t worry. Unlike you two, I know how to share. Maybe we can all have a slumber party.”

tags: @mars-rants-a-lot @ninejlovebot @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @vane28282 @kmc1989 @avencol

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ao3commentoftheday · 7 months

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Idk if this is too broad of a scope for this blog, but if you could answer this, it'd be great.

I've been in a writing rut since I started getting serious about writing, and I've identified the issue in the past month or so: I slant heavily on the gardener end of the writing spectrum and all the advice on writing I've ever seen was for architect-style writing. Not once in the eight years I've been serious about writing did I find any guides on gardener-style writing (and if it says it's gardener-style, it'sreally just architect-style with gardner aspects), and my experience has just been more or less jamming a square peg into a circle hole, getting nothing written and feeling bad about it.

Now I'm unlearning all the architect-style habits that are destructive to me as a writer, but I can't find any resources for gardeners aside from Stephen King's On Writing. If you or any of your followers know how to help a gardener's writing, that would be great. I have so many fic ideas I want to write, but can't since I'm learning to write all over again.

For those who don't know what gardener and architect refer to when it comes to writers, a gardener is a writer who starts with the seed of an idea and lets it grow in whatever direction the light shines. They prune it and weed it as they go but otherwise let the idea lead the way. An architect, on the other hand, plans their stories out first and then writes them. They have a structure and the details all mapped out first and then the writing is just executing on that vision.

As a gardener myself, my biggest piece of advice is to avoid writing advice. Like you've said, the majority of it is aimed at people who do things like plan and plot and worldbuild ahead of time. Because of the structure that that writing style enjoys, providing "one size fits most" writing advice works well for it.

I tend to find a lot of that advice to be counter to what I need to do. Planning a story out ahead just makes me feel like it's already written. Building out the world before I start writing it feels like a hollow exercise - more like writing an encyclopedia than developing a land and culture for my characters to inhabit.

What I find useful is taking an episodic approach to writing. The entire story will be like a season of a television show and each chapter is like one episode. I always have my eventual "season finale" end goal in mind, but any particular chapter can meander closer to or further from that goal. It's alright to take a circuitous route, as long as I get to my destination in the end.

It's also alright if my destination changes as I'm writing. Sometimes those meandering paths take me in a more interesting direction than I was originally going down, and that shifts the story. As long as you're vaguely following a three-act structure (or 5 act or 7 act), the flow of it will feel familiar to your readers and they probably won't really notice it happening.

This advice I'm giving might not ring true to you either. You didn't have a specific problem to address, so I've been wandering a bit in my reply. Really what it comes down to is paying attention to yourself and your needs. Figure out what it is that keeps you writing and what it is that makes you stop. Do more of the former and less of the latter - and don't worry if what you're doing is "weird" to someone else.

I write directly into the AO3 window (which AO3 specifically tells you NOT to do, btw) because drafting first in google docs or something takes the fun out of it for me. I post my chapters without previewing them first. I write in 800 to 1500 word sprints, and I focus on dialogue, and I almost always try to end on a joke or a pun or a cliffhanger. These are all things that make writing an activity that I want to do.

I can't really say anything much more specific given your ask, but I hope something in here was helpful. Let's see if any gardeners out there have some resources or advice that might work for you.

#asks and answers #long post

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ratridingaskateboard · 6 months

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Always See Your Face

New girl! Reader x Eddie

Summary: There is a new girl at Hawkins and Dustin will do anything to make sure Eddie doesn't find out.

Warnings: slight sexual innuendos, cursing, mentions of drugs. Y/N is described!

A/N: Hi! This is the first time I have written a fic in a while but I hope you enjoy it! Depending on the feedback I get from this I might write more :) FYI perspectives in this story will change and will be indicated by: --

Dustin had always been one to have his friends' best interests in mind. He might have overstepped boundaries at times but he knew what was best for him and his friends. Even though Eddie was several years older than him, he still knew that the last thing Eddie needed in his life was a girlfriend. What if he started hanging out with her and Hellfire stopped existing? What would happen with his band? Everything would go to shit because some girl would grab his attention for 2 seconds.

Dustin found himself every morning before school sitting in the back of Eddie's van with the back doors open. Eddie let them sit in the back and read comics while he would perform his drug deals for the kids who had extracurricular activities after school. Dustin looked up from his X-Men to observe a car he had never seen before. Strange, but not uncommon to see until he saw a figure he had never seen before.

She dawned a black denim jacket adorned with several Metal and Punk bands that Dustin would not be able to recognize but had seen in Eddie's vast cassette collection. Her legs were barely covered by a short red plaid schoolgirl skirt and her chest was wrapped in a Sex Pistols T-shirt. She was bending down to seemingly grab her backpack from her backseat and several football douchebags whistled at the response of seeing her backside. This did not catch her attention though as she quickly grabbed her backpack and placed it on the roof of her car. She glanced at Dustin and he felt himself gulp. Fuck- He was staring at Eddie's dream girl. He frequently heard Eddie go on tangents that no girl in Hawkins had the same interests as him. Now he proved himself wrong- Dustin could prove it with his own eyes. Not only did she have his style but she had a pretty face similar to that of one of the girls from one of Eddie's porn mags that Dustin had unfortunately found in his van. They both shared the same long brown hair and doe-shaped eyes.

What was Dustin going to do? Not only was this girl weirded out by the amount of time Dustin had been ogling her but she could ruin everything. She did not even understand the power she possessed by simply existing in the wrong place and at the wrong time. He had to do everything in his power to make sure neither of them saw each other.

Dustin's feet started to jog in her direction as she had already begun her strut to the front entrance of the school. Before Dustin could get the chance to tap her shoulder, she swiftly turned to face him, discomfort shown in her face.

"Hey man, I would really enjoy it if you could leave me alone." She barked.

"No no no! I don't mean anything bad by following you. I'm sorry for staring at you earlier but um... Oh! The principal had actually sent me to give you a tour of the school and to show you where your classes are!" Dustin had secured a good enough lie to not seem like the creep he was presenting himself to be.

Her eyes widened and her gaze softened.

"Oh, okay." She smiled and Dustin could feel himself getting more anxious knowing that she was that pretty when she smiled.

The bell began to rang, signaling to every student that it was time for Hell to begin. Dustin heard a familiar voice call out to Mike and he swiftly grabbed her hand and pulled her into the school, making sure to avoid any possibly common route Eddie normally took.

"Can I see your schedule?" Dustin asked, giving out his hand eagerly.

It seemed like she could hear the annoyance in Dustin's words and swiftly pulled out the crumpled sheet of paper from her pocket and handed it to him. Dustin quickly looked over the paper and let out a sigh of relief. Even though she was a senior, she did not seem to have a single class with Eddie most likely because her classes were for the more advanced students.

"Okay, Y/N. This way!"

Dustin guided her to her first classroom, Mr. Stadford's Physics class, and said that he would meet up with her after her second. After the first period was over, Dustin ran to meet up with Y/N and to make sure he was able to beat her before she left the classroom. Yes, Eddie and her shared similar hallways for classes but Eddie had a tendency to be late to each and every class he went to. Alongside this, Dustin made sure that she was always early to her classes. This cycle repeated until lunch.

Y/N had found herself bound to the little curly-headed boy. She shouldn't say boy he was only a couple years younger than her. Moving was hard but going to a new school was even harder. Her parents' divorce could not have been more sudden and even though he had been a tad bit too eager, she really appreciated Dustin's kindness.

She frowned after exiting her third-period class to find no Dustin. Guess she would have to find the cafeteria by herself or simply follow the crowd that had corralled its way down the hall.

Once she entered the cafeteria, she felt the eyes on her, all over her. Thankfully, there were plenty of tables that had not recognized that fresh blood had entered their school. She saw a familiar head of curls bobble in laughter and she started her stride in his direction.

Once she had gotten to the table, it seemed to be filled with only boys all wearing the same T-shirt Dustin was wearing. She assumed it must be some sort of club he had not introduced her to yet. The majority of the boys had noticed her walk up to the table and she could tell they were not often approached by women. The only ones who hadn't noticed were Dustin and an older boy with long shaggy brown hair.

"Hey," She put her hand on Dustin's shoulder and her moved her head down to his level. "I know you showed me around and I might be asking for too much but is it alright if I sit with you?"

A look of dread filled Dustin's face as he looked up at her from his lunch. She had automatically assumed that he had felt bad for not escorting her to the lunch room.

"It's okay! I found the lunch room just fine." She rubbed his shoulder to put him at ease and sat down next to him.

There was nothing but silence.

She had felt as if she had sat at the wrong table and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Dustin was still agape and didn't seem to have changed his expression even after her reassurance. She turned to view the other boys at the table. They stared at her with a sense of confusion and wonder but all too awkward to speak first.

Finally, she turned to the boy sitting at the end of the table. His gaze softened when she gazed at him. His eyes were wide also in shock from a stranger sitting at their table but there was something different in his expression that she couldn't quiet read. Embarrassment? No. Confusion? No. Longing? Maybe but not quite.

This silence was cut short by a food tray plopping on the other side of Dustin.

"Jesus, that line was long!" A boy with a bowl cut sighed.

"Where are you guys so quiet?" He looked around in disbelief but immediately found the source when he spotted the brunette sitting on the other side of Dustin.

"Hey." She waved.

A/N: Depending on how things go with this I will definitely continue this as a series. Lemme know your thoughts!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things #SoundCloud

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clockwayswrites · 7 months

Text

Totally didn't write Tim being confused.

WC:1174 Masterpost

“So are you going to want in on it?” Jason asked without looking over at Tim. If his brother wanted to follow after him on his mundane patrol, let him.

“You’d be okay with that?” Tim asked, unable (or not trying to) keep the surprise out of his voice.

Jason just shrugged, sure to exaggerate the motion to show through his armor. Tim had done him a favor with this research, Jason figured he earned a spot on the bust. Besides, Jason was… trying. He couldn’t make up for what he’d done to Tim, but he could try to be better now.

“Yes, sure,” Tim said in response to the shrug. “Just let me know when and I’ll make sure the others know to cover my route that night. Or nights, if you need help planning?”

Gut reaction was to growl at the offer of help planning, but Jason forced the sound back down into a noncommittal noise. He was better now. He didn’t need to do everything himself. His goons, and god he still didn’t like that name but whatever, proved that. Crime Alley was better because of them. “Maybe. Lemme look over your data first. I’ll let you know.”

“Right, sure, of course,” Tim said with an aborted flutter of his hand. “Just let me know.”

Fuck, Jason really should say yes, let Tim help. “Yeah, I will. Just need to go over what you’ve got, get my head around it, you know?”

Tim nodded. Some of his hair slipped out of the hair tie that he had it pulled back into. Jason thought it was good for the kid to be growing his hair out, getting out of that perfect corporate box he put himself into too much, but he didn’t know how to say that in a way that wouldn’t offend Tim or make him feel judged, so Jason kept quiet.

In the quiet it was very easy to hear a too familiar voice growl, “I said back off! I’m not interested!”

Jason sighed, the noise threatening through the modulation of the helmet, and turned to run over the roof tops towards the voice. He could feel rather than hear Tim change directions with him, ever the loyal shadow.

Tim perched on the edge of the roof that Jason was leaning over.

“Come on, my money’s good,” huffed some dude. He must have gotten out of his car to confront the sex worker who had turned him down. Which beyond being rude, no still meant no even if the person was a sex worker, it was clear the worker was done for the night. They were carrying two handfuls of plastic bags and Tim could smell the food from the roof.

“I said no, dude,” they said. “Go find someone working a corner if you need it that bad.”

“Yeah, they don’t have what you have,” the guy said. Then he did the stupidest thing he could have done and reached out while the sex worker pulled away.

Jason was already over the ledge of the roof before Tim had twitched. He landed with a purposeful crunch on the battered asphalt and had his gun drawn and pointed as the guy spun around.

“You new to the Alley?” Jason growled.

The guy (who looked two seconds away from pissing his pants) shook his head.

“Then you should know the rules,” Jason said. He stepped forward and pressed his gun against the guy’s temple.

Tim’s gaze flicked between Jason and the sex worker, who was looking on… fondly? Something else was going on here.

“I see you fucking with people like this again and you’ll lose something important, got it?”

“Got it,” the guy squeaked.

“Get out of here.”

The guy scrambled back to his car and took off with a squeal of tires. Tim jumped down silently while Jason holstered his gun and turned to the sex worker.

“Hood!” They said with a bright smile.

“Danny,” Jason growled. “What are you doing out here at this time of night?”

“Delivering some dinner to Nickie and the girls,” Danny said, holding up the plastic bags in his hands.

Jason’s fingers twitched like he wanted to run a hand over his helmet (or strangle the other). “Dressed like that?”

The worker, Danny, pouted and looked down at his outfit. There was a large sliver of stomach exposed between the bright green crop top with a pattern of cartoon ghosts, tiny black shorts with magenta details, and knee high black boots. Tim sort of thought the look worked for him in an eye searing way.

“Oh come on, I’m going to see Nickie. You know I have to dress right or she’ll drag me off to another makeover. I can’t take any more makeovers, Hood. And… don’t you think I look good?”

“Of course you look good,” Jason said.

Tim’s head whipped over to stare. He had to purposeful close his mouth before he caught flies.

Danny’s pout grew. “Then what’s the issue?”

“The issue is people are going to think you’re a hooker.”

Wasn’t he?

Danny rested a hand on his hip and raised a brow at Jason. “You say that like being a hooker is a bad thing. Do I need to tell the girls you said that?”

“You know what I mean!” Jason argued. “You just had a pushy John try to pick you up!”

“And I was handling him!”

Jason growled again and took a threatening step forward. Instead of being cowed by it, Danny stepped up into Jason’s space, basically pressing himself along Jason’s looming form. And then Danny stood up on his tip toes and pressed a kiss to Jason’s helmet, right where his mouth would be.

Tim could hear the dial up tone in his own mind.

What.

It only got louder when Jason sighed and just slumped, the fight going out of him.

“Danny…”

“I’m fine, Hood. Look, I’ll take the food to Nickie and stay with the girls until you can walk me home. Or your little shadow can.”

When Jason’s head jerked up to looked at Tim, he couldn’t help the instinct to raise his hands innocently.

Jason just grumbled and let his helmet drop onto Danny’s slim shoulder, which started shaking with laughter.

“Shut up,” Jason said.

“You forgot he was there, didn’t you?” Danny asked. He transferred all the food to one side so that he could run a hand over the helmet and down to Jason’s neck.

Jason letting someone touch him so casually, especially as Red Hood wasn’t helping Tim’s brain reboot.

“Red, get your ass over here,” Jason said.

Tim figured it was best to listen with whatever the fuck was going on here. He slipped out of the shadows while Danny turned around, tucked himself back into Jason’s arms, and smiled at Tim.

“Red, Danny. Danny, Red Robin, one of the Bats.”

“Hi,” Danny chirped cheerfully and held out his empty hand.

“Hello,” Tim said, shaking it mostly on instinct. What the fuck was going on here?

---

AN: Oh look! Another Bat finally meets Danny! Tim is so, so confused. I'm not feeling well at all, so I went back to the tried and true fic that I'm not writing. It's been a while since I haven't written it, hasn't it?

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost here.

#dp x dc #dead on main #the fic that i'm not writing

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wintfleur · 3 months

Note

🌱 052 and 🪷 2 with luke hughes (for the 1k celly) pls! romantic pairing, luke doing the 🪷2 action!

౨ৎ enchanted by the beauty of you

°. — pairings ( Luke Hughes x female! reader )

°. — summary ( despite his girlfriends worry, Luke decides to sneak them into the hotel pool )

°. — details ( g; fluff. w; none that I know of. wc; 1.2k )

﹕─┈ prompt ~ a closed pool after everyone had left & pulling you by your waist.

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( MY FIRST LUKE FIC WHOOO !!! I LOVE LUKEY SM I LOVE WRITING THIS !!! I do hope that you enjoy it, it’s a little short but I think i captured the sweet moment well. Please don’t be a silent reader I’d love to hear your guys thoughts <333 )

1k celly masterlist main masterlist nhl masterlist

“Luke i swear if we get caught my brother is going to kill us ⸺ kill you” you quietly hissed as you tightly held your boyfriend's hand as he used the other to press a few buttons of the elevator the two of you and the rest of his team were staying at for an away game. You were the team's main photographer, so you had the pleasure of joining them to all of their games.

It was late and you were peacefully catching up on your favorite show when you heard a familiar knock on your door, opening the door and coming face to face with your grinning boyfriend who was wearing his swim trunks and a random t-shirt. Before you could say anything, he invited himself in and started going through your luggage and pulling out your bathing suit that you always packed, just in case you had the chance of using the pool or hot tub.

“We could get caught by hotel security and arrested and yet you're worried about your brother?” Luke chuckled as he pulled you close, your back to his chest and his arm around your waist, his fingers dipping into your (his) shirt that you had over your swimsuit, caressing the skin of your hip. “Luke, seriously this isn't funny” you whined as you leaned back against your boyfriend. Before Luke could respond a ding was heard and the doors of the elevators opened.

“Whoa” you whispered to yourself, but Luke heard you perfectly, smile on his lips as he looked down at you and watched as you took in the sight in front of you. The sky was filled with stars, the ones you could see at least from all the lights coming from the surrounding buildings. The pool was lit a pretty blue, it was dark on the rooftop pool . . . but beautiful, nonetheless.

“C’mon” Luke muttered as he gently pulled you out of the elevator before the doors closed, you let him pull you to the closest sun lounger as you continued to take in the sight around you. Luke drops the towels on the chair along with your small bag that held his wallet and the keycard to both of your rooms, both of you deciding to leave your phones in your room; not wanting to be bothered by anything.

You tear your eyes away from the sky and to your boyfriend when he lets go of your hand, you watch as he pulls his t-shirt off and tosses it on the chair before sliding off his slides. He didn't waste a second before running and jumping into the pool. The loud splash of water hid the shocked giggle you let out at your boyfriend's actions; he was such a child sometimes.

Luke popped up out of the water and stood on his feet, shaking his head like a dog and pushing his wet hair out of his face. The water went up to his midsection and his body seemed to be glowing from the blue light of the pool. Your eyes lingered on his shoulders, and he couldn't help but take the opportunity to tease you with a smirk “You gonna keep gawking or join me?”

You look around at your surroundings one more time before looking back at your smirking boyfriend who was enjoying his time in the water. You but your lip softly before letting out a small “fuck it” Luke grins and watches as you pull off your shirt and slip out of your shorts and sandals that's my girl he thinks, not hiding the fact that he was admiring every inch of your body.

You decided to take a much less chaotic route into the pool, dipping your toe into the water, happily surprised that the pool was heated. You took your time going down the steps of the pool, while Luke dunks his head under the water. When he came up you were in front of him, you brought your hands up and moved Luke’s wet curls out of his face.

Luke smiles and grabs you by the waist and pulls you to his chest, your legs wrapping around his waist as your arms wrap around his muscular shoulders. Luke moved closer to the edge of the pool, giving you both a better look at the view. Luke kept his gaze on you as he watched your eyes widen in awe as you looked up at the stars. You were enchanted by the beauty of the stars while he was enchanted by the beauty of you.

“Thank you” you whispered after a few minutes of silence, the two of you just enjoying the moment of being so close. Luke tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and gave you a confused smile “For what?”

“For bringing me here . . . even though you kidnapped me from my room” you smile as you rested both of your hands on his name, absentmindedly playing with the curls at his neck. Luke’s shoulder shake as he laughs, his fingers toying with the strings of your bikini bottoms “I did not kidnap you.”

“Can I tell you a secret” luke whispered and you looked up at him “Of course”

“One of the people at the front desk is a fan of the devils, i gave them a signed puck and they said i could have the pool to myself tonight” Luke confessed his actions from earlier when they got back to the hotel from the game. You moved closer to your boyfriend, your chests almost touching. You raised your eyebrow as you asked him “So you're telling me I've been stressed about nothing?”

“I just wanted to see you squirm a little” Luke smirked teasingly and it's true, he did. Yes, you were worried about being caught, but he could see the look of excitement in your eyes as he led you down the hallways. The smile you let out when you got into the pool was something he wouldn't forget, it was with it. You smirked and slid your hands down from his nape and to his shoulders “Oh you wanted to see me squirm huh?”

Before your boyfriend could answer, you used your strength and pushed down on his shoulder, causing him to go under the water. You laughed loudly at the sight of your boyfriend, he was quick to get up and shake his hair out of your face, a giggle escaping your lips as you were quick to cover your face from Luke's quick splash attack on you.

The next few minutes were filled with laughter and the sound of water splashing, a squeal of surprise leaving your lips when Luke playfully tackles you into the water. “Luke” you whined as you moved your wet hair out of your face and wiped your nose where water was coming out of it.

Luke chuckles at the cute pout on your lips, he moves to stand in front of you, his hands moving to his hips and pulling you close to him as he gently pushes you back against the edge of the pool, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Sorry baby” Luke whispered before he leaned down and kissed you softly. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer to you, your chests touching as the water around you calmed down.

Your lips molded perfectly together in the slow but passionate kiss that took both of your breath away, Luke's hold on your hips tightens when you softly tug on the wet curls tickling his nape. Luke let out a mixture of groan and a whine when you pulled away from the kiss. You smirked and swiped your thumb across his bottom lip.

“Don't worry we have all night.”

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( I feel like something is missing from this, I just don’t know what it is . . . hope you guys enjoyed it !!! )

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 )

#﹕─┈ 𝜗 roro's 1k celly 𝜚 #﹕─┈ roro’s works #luke hughes #lh43 #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #nhl x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fluff #nhl fanfiction #hughes brothers

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ceilidho · 8 months

Text

in the cauldron boil and bake

prompt: pretty little witch who lives in a cottage in the forest who sometimes eats wayward travellers but Ghost has some kind of magic repulsion aura that doesn’t allow her to use her powers on him. (ON AO3) tags: very nsfw, implied/lightly described violence, dubcon/noncon, noncon spanking, implied cannibalism (just in general, not with the pairing lol); 5.5k

He moves at a pace too slow for you to make out with the naked eye, but you feel it creeping through you.

The vision of him appears in a dream first, a premonition. A hulking figure trekking through the woods. You snuggle deeper under the covers and scrunch up your nose in your sleep. In the morning, you go outside to harvest the holly leaves and buttercup and return home dreaming of tender, slow cooked meat. It’s been awhile since you last had a proper meal. When you hang up the laundry to dry, you chew on peppermint cuttings and try not to salivate.

In the centuries you’ve lived in these woods, travellers have come and gone. You don’t eat every single one that happens to pass by—that would be a surefire way to get your forest branded as bedevilled and a longer route established circumnavigating your grove. You might be hungry, but you’re prudent, careful. Not like some other witches these days, greedy for any morsel that happens to pass in front of them.

No; you take care of your woods. You have to, if you plan on remaining here for the centuries to come. If a few travellers happen to disappear here and there, that’s simply life. Not everyone can make treacherous journeys.

You always have a sense of when a traveller is nearby. It’s as though your being is embedded within the forest itself, privy to those who dwell within it. You feel him along the outer regions of the forest, a lone traveller hauling not more than himself and a rucksack filled with the bare essentials. He appears to you in flashes in your dreams, not the full image of him but piecemeal, a shadow obscuring his full face from you. You see only tendons and meat on his bones, a rough hewn strength to his limbs, touch muscle and fat wrapped around his middle.

It makes you giddy to think of him circling ever closer to your spider’s web at the centre of the forest. After him, you won’t be hungry for years.

Your restless leg acts up the day you know that he’s close enough to approach. All morning, you sit at the little table in your kitchen and rip lavender buds from the stems, black shoes tap-tapping away at the floor. The broom sweeps by itself in the corner, sweeping the dust into a neat pile. When you snap your fingers, it’s brusque, impatient. The broom halts in midair and then clatters against the floorboards. The chair scrapes against the floor as you rise to your feet.

“Come, come, Asphodel,” you whisper to the black cat curled up on the windowsill, which barely lifts her head enough to blink at you. “No more dallying. Mommy’s hungry.”

In a show of great defiance and disrespect, Asphodel merely meows at you and lays her head back down. Insipid little familiar.

You go off on your own then, keen to see the travellers with your own eyes. Jowls growing tighter. Robe cinched tight around you and hair pinned back by a thin strand of velvet. The days have just begun to shorten, just begun to exhale frost and rot. The leaves however, by agreement, do not crunch under your feet and give you away. You are a phantom amidst the trees as you flank the lone traveller, following the breadth of him as he traverses past your homestead.

It’s fortunate that you are not beholden to physics because he is formidable. Broad as a man might be, no less sizable than in your dreams, but much more menacing in the flesh. He too moves quietly in the brush, with a care and precision that you have not seen many humans employ.

He conceals the lower half of his face with a black piece of fabric, which you had mistaken for shadows. Not so. It is a deliberate concealment, meant to unnerve. Without magic, you might not have approached.

His size alone isn’t enough to frighten you though. You are two hundred years old and you have eaten men twice his size when you were naught but a babe.

You step out into the clearing just a few paces from him, halting the man in his tracks.

“Hello,” you call out tentatively, raising a hand to shield your eyes. “C-can you help me? I think I’ve lost my way.”

At this point in your career, it takes a bit to hide the smile that threatens to break. You are like the spider posing as a fly. The show is half the fun though.

The man doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even seem shocked at your presence, arms loose by his sides. It makes your stomach clench, the script flipped a bit. It should be you, loose and limber, and the wayward traveller tense and nonplussed, then eager to help the lost girl. You wait a moment longer for him to respond, but he remains silent, blue eyes unblinking.

“Can you help me?” you repeat, taking a step closer. The tendrils of your magic slither out of you, snaking across the forest floor towards him. “I’m lost. Can you help me find my way out?”

Your magic finds his boots in the dirt like mycelium threads, the pulse of him rich and earthen. It makes the saliva pool in your mouth, hunger gnawing at your guts. He will taste so good. Meaty and huge, enough to last you the winter. You take another step closer despite his continued silence, a tad too eager. You only need a moment though, long enough for your magic to take root, to render him febrile and inert. When he collapses to the ground, you will float his body back and rend him limb from limb by your hearth.

Another step brings you closer to him when your magic suddenly recoils, unwinds from him. You frown. You try sending it back, but your magic shrinks away, an atavistic fear blooming up in you. It does not want near this man.

A cold sweat breaks out on your neck. The hairs on your neck and arms stand on end.

The masked man staring back at you tilts his head, the skin under his eyes crinkling with a smile that you cannot see. Suddenly eldritch, blood-curdling.

“Now, what are you?” he asks with a rumbling voice, rough from disuse, and takes a step towards you.

You trip over your feet scrambling back. Branches from a nearby tree scoop towards you, catching you before you tumble down into the soft dirt. He advances quickly on you, big hand finding now the hatchet strapped to his side and pulling it out, the thing dwarfed in his massive paw.

“Stay back—stay back—” you hiss, the branches listening to your fear and dragging you away from the man. “Leave—I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?” he asks, taunting. Just a twinge of it, as if he can’t help that he has a predilection to mock.

He catches up to you fast enough, the strides of his long legs enough to eat up the distance. When you whip the branches towards him, they stop mere inches from him, giving him ample time to bat them away. The ones that get close enough meet his hatchet, a single cleave enough to sever them from the tree. You don’t feel the tree’s pain, but where his blade meets your magic—a thin coating along the branches, like extended, ghost limbs of your own—it stings.

“Stay back!” you shriek, heart pumping away ferociously. Your voice comes out like a caterwaul. He’s too close now though, towering over you, the bitter smell of old sweat and musk. Up close, he does not smell like anything you know. He smells sun bleached, the rust of old blood like the blades in your shed after a long season’s hunt.

“What sort of girl—” he starts, hand fisting in your hair and wrenching your head back, “—ambushes strange men in forests? Do you have a death wish?”

To have him touch you is singularly terrifying. You haven’t been touched in a hundred years, certainly not by a human. His touch sends you skittering back, but he has you trapped in place. Your shoes dig into the dirt when you try to push yourself away, hands pressed against his chest much to your distress.

“Men can’t kill me,” you hiss, fingers clawing at the hand holding you in place, scratching at him with the little nails that you never bothered to grow out.

You can’t see the whole of his face, but his expression is undoubtedly unimpressed. “I could kill you easily, girl.”

“I’m not a girl—I’m a witch.”

“A witch is a girl.”

“I eat girls,” you snap, so angry now that spittle drips from your mouth. You shrink back when he wipes it away with a gloved hand. “I eat men like you too. If you are a man.”

You say that because the way your magic curls away from him has you on edge. Humans may not scare you, but eldritch, ancient monsters do and they hunt little witches like you. Usually not in your own woods, but stranger things have happened.

“‘Course I’m a man. Look at me.”

He presses the whole length of his body against yours, dragging you so close to him by your hair that you almost rise up onto your toes. He’s solid all the way through, only a bit of give around his middle. There’s something distinctly hard pressing against your low belly. It leaves you flustered, hot under your collar. An unfamiliar heat in your core, legs clenching on nothing. You give in to the instinctive urge to look down, but pressed so close to him, there’s little to see beyond the wideness of his chest, covered by a brown tunic laced up the front.

“Means nothing. Plenty of things look like other things. I look like a girl but I am not,” you stutter.

“Were you trying to eat me then, witch girl?” he breathes, amused. You yelp when he gives you a little shake by the hair.

You flash your teeth at that, hoping he takes that as a threat. You have chewed off flesh far tougher than his. “Still might, human. If you don’t let me go.”

He stares down at you, eyes giving nothing away. “It’s not every day that a little girl threatens to eat me. Not very nice, you know. I’ve cut down men twice your size for less.”

“You like bloodshed?”

“I trade in bounties; it’s part of the job. But, yes, girl. I like bloodshed.”

It’s not reassuring to hear that when his hands are fast on you. You wish now you hadn’t dreamed of this strange man immune to your magic and left him to his wandering. There are bears in these woods that could have dealt with him for you.

“I’m—I’m not going to anymore,” you say, quieter now, hands falling back to his chest, trying to shove yourself just the slightest bit away. You don’t move an inch. “I’ll…I can find something else to eat. Just let me go.”

The man widens his stance, feet bracketing yours. In two hundred years, you haven’t felt small. You’ve felt tremendous, expansive, big as the whole forest; monstrous some days even. The most ferocious predator in the woods, the haunting lurching her way through the trees, belly hungry for iron blood and the ripe taste of fear.

You feel that fear now in your mouth for the first time, sour.

He smiles behind the mask again. “Maybe later. Need to teach you a lesson.”

“A lesson?” Maybe the fear hasn’t sunk in all the way because you ask that when he lets go of his hold on your hair and drops his hands to your waist, getting a tight hold there. Twisting you around while he walks you back.

“You all alone in the forest?” he asks instead of answering you. “Is there a house that I missed? Been here for months and haven’t seen one.”

“Of course, I—I live here.” You don’t want to say more than though, lest you reveal too much about yourself. You’re still wondering whether surviving this ordeal will be as simple as getting away. There’s something savage in his gaze now, the mealy taste in your mouth translating that look like the hunter looking upon the hunted.

There’s a tree stump that he guides you to, shaded under the canopy. When he tips you over the stump, the breath rushes out of you. The edge is rough against your stomach. You don’t even notice him pulling up the back of your dress until a few seconds later.

“Wait, hold on—that’s my indoor dress!” you cry out, the front of your dress scraping against the stump and sure to tear. “Let me go—stop it!”

Your drawers are next, slid down your hips while you squirm and wail, feet kicking out behind you.

“Behave.” It’s punctuated by the sudden sting on your cheek, bottom flaming red by his hand. Pain is such a foreign concept to you that it initially leaves you speechless.

He props you against the stump with little care for how your knees drag in the dirt and whether your underwear gets dirt on them. He keeps you pinned there with a big hand on the centre of your back. Your shimmying gets you nowhere, only planted farther into the dirt; it only scuffs up your knees and pulls wretched little noises from your throat.

The terror comes when you’re bare to him and he draws his hand back. You gasp at the first smack, shocked; it’s a broken, stupid sound. At the next smack, you react properly, going into a frenzy, twisting left and right to get away, but helpless under just a fraction of his strength. Your magic does no good for once in your long life either. You feel it sit on the periphery, unsure of what to do because it cannot come close to this strange man for some reason.

You yelp every time his hand comes down on your bottom. Red fills your vision. Tears do as well.

“I am going to—” you break off on a yowl, back arching, “—I am going to eat the flesh off your bones for this! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

His chuckle is bone-chilling, ices you right over. “You oughta at least know the name of the man you’re going to eat. They call me Ghost.”

“I’ll call you—” The caustic name you were about to call him is ripped from your lips by another well-placed smack on your ass.

You shriek so loud that the birds flee from their perches within the trees.

The worst part is the way your thighs flex together with every smack. Belly clenching. You can feel slick gathering where it shouldn’t, a high blush splotched across your cheeks as you pray that he doesn’t notice. It doesn’t happen often, only in the week following your cycle when you feel ravenous and flushed, skin prickly and raw until you go outdoors and roll around in the dirt under the moonlight. Always by yourself, of course, naturally.

Little panting breaths hiccup out of you, your cheeks overflowing with frustrated tears. After the first minute, you simply go limp. There’s nothing else you can do. Even trying to levitate does you no good, it only props your butt up higher into the air since Ghost’s hand on your upper back keeps your chest pressed to the stump. It only seems to amuse him, judging by the hoarse chuckle he lets out.

Without your broom, the little bit of levitation is more of a party trick than anything—and you haven’t even been to a party in fifty years, not since your coven’s last autumnal gathering. Not that it matters at a time like this. His hand comes down on your butt again and you wail, shoes digging into the ground and kicking up dirt. Your mind goes blank again, thoughts replaced by the looping ow, ow, ow that also falls from your lips.

“Does it hurt, lovie?” Ghost asks, hand coming to rest on your livid cheek. It makes you hiss, turning your head until your cheek is pressed to the stump’s inner rings. His voice is gentle, but mocking, like the voice you use when hacking into a screaming man, asking him if he’d like his hand back while you dangle it in front of him.

“It’s going to hurt so much worse when I dice you into little pieces,” you hiss. He gives a mocking pat to your butt, making you flinch.

“Learned your lesson yet?”

You keep your gaze stubbornly off to the side. Somehow, it would be worse to look over your shoulder and make eye contact with the strange beast at your back. “If you leave now, I won't sever your limbs from your body and roast your organs from the inside.”

“I take it you haven’t,” he says, another chuckle rumbling out of him.

His hand comes off your naked rear. Your ears perk up when you hear the sound of fabric over fabric, wondering if maybe he’s pulling your underwear back up, but you don’t feel anything. What you feel instead is the sudden heaviness pushed between your thighs, nestled right up against your wet core, so unfamiliar that it makes you jump. You stay put though, held down still by his hand.

“Put that back,” you say severely.

He holds it against your sex with his free hand and presses forward, coating himself with your slick. “You’re not in a position to make demands, girl.”

“I’m going to slice every bit of skin off your bones.” Your mouth salivates at the thought, thinking of all the thick, iron-rich blood from someone Ghost’s size.

Those thoughts disperse again like smoke when he ruts forward, the thick length between his legs gliding through your wetness. It makes you break out into a sweat, keen catching between your teeth, just narrowly bitten back. Ghost makes no effort to suppress his groans. They’re loud, a lustful, masculine pleasure that you’ve heard far off in your woods before—unfortunate couples come to copulate before meeting their end at your hands—but never so close. Never right up in your ear.

“It’s not fair,” you sob, emotional suddenly. “You’re just going to—to do that and then kill me.”

He leans his full weight over you, the rough texture of his shirt catching on the back of your dress. You’re sweating so hard now that the lace embroidery around your collar is thoroughly soaked, clinging to your skin.

“‘M not gonna kill you. What would I do something like that for?”

You sniff. “It’s what I would do.”

He chuckles again, the sound reverberating through you with him all pressed up against you. It would almost be pleasant if it weren’t for the cock pumping between your thighs. That brings you right back down to earth, mind torn away from the ravens perched in the branches of the tree looming over you, watching you from above. If you were able to pay them any close attention, you’d probably hear them chattering about the position their little witch has found herself in.

“C’mon now,” Ghost grunts in your ear, hips shifting back. “Be a good little witch and say a little spell—don’t wanna knock you up on the first try.”

You open your mouth to reply and squeal when he rocks back forward, the bulbous tip pressing into you this time. Your toes flex in your shoes, thighs spreading without any prompting from him. You don’t even notice the hand on your upper back travelling to your waist, both of his big hands gripping you there now to hold you in place. There’s no thought of trying to get away, just breathing around the immense stretch from his shaft driving up into you.

“Ooh, no, no—it’s too much,” you squeak, fingers digging into the sides of the stump, the wood cutting into your soft skin.

It is too much. It doesn’t even feel entirely possible. Even with the wetness leaking from you, his cock only manages to fit a couple inches in you before you’re too tight.

“You’re doing fine, lovie,” he rasps into your ear, drawing his hips back and then plunging back into you, deeper than before. “See? Not so bad, is it? Gonna take a little more for me, a’right?”

“No—no more,” you slur, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Can you just—just keep it right there?”

“Yeah? That enough for you?”

Your fingers unlatch from the bark of the tree, trembling when you reach down to wipe them off on your dress before dragging the palm of your hand over your clit. It makes you jump and whine. The skin of your palm is a bit textured from gripping onto the stump, but the friction makes your brain leak right out of your ear. Especially when you push your hips back just a little bit, nervously fucking yourself on his cock.

Ghost laughs and lets go of your hip to bat your hand away, then reaches back around to fit a big hand around your jaw.

He holds your jaw in a single hand, palm supporting your chin. “You ever going to do this again, girl? Go up to strange men in the woods?”

You almost don’t hear him over the blood in your ears. A thick cock spears into you for the first time in your life and the man rutting into you expects coherence? Maybe you babble something into the palm of his hand, but it’s lost to the world when he pulls your knee out to make more room for himself and tips your ass up.

He gives your cheek a solid pat. “C’mon, focus on me, lovie. Tell me what you’re gonna do from now on.”

Your breathing picks up, heavier. When you don’t respond again, he abruptly pulls out and stands up, hauling you up to your feet with him. All of the blood rushes from your head, pooling around your pretty black shoes. Leaves crunch under your feet when he turns the two of you around and sits down on the stump where you’d just been spread over. The hands on your waist turn you to face him and that’s when an inkling of struggle works its way back into your veins.

You hiss and snarl when he lifts you to straddle his thighs, particularly when you see the brutish, ruddy cock jutting out from his trousers. Ghost seems more amused than anything at your little attempts to escape, clutching you closer to him until your chests are pressed tight together, making it all the more intimate. All the more real.

“Quit fussing.” You jump at the sharp slap he delivers to your ass.

“Going to curse your whole lineage—” you grit out, wincing when he draws you back down over his length, cunt fluttering at the stretch. You can’t help dropping your forehead to his chest, shoulder hitched with a frustrated cry.

His groan makes you seize up, a hot flash darting through you. “Don’t be like that, lovie. Might be yours too.”

A haze passes over you when firm hands lift you up off his cock and plop you back down, emptying you of any thoughts like you’d tipped your head and all the water had poured out.

The worst is the way your body betrays you. Each time he shoves his fat cock into your cunt, a whine rattles out of you, snatched from your chest. Robbed from you. The nearby leaves rustle and swirl up into the air with an artificial wind, magic singing their edges. He reaches so much deeper inside of you like this, splayed on his lap, hands gripping onto his shoulders for dear life because it takes every bit of energy in your body to merely take his cock into you.

Your knees scrape against the uneven wood every time he drags you back down. They’ll probably be scraped raw by the end of it; you’ll need to tearfully smooth on ointment and wrap thick bandages around them when you get back to the cottage.

“There we go. Fuckin’ take it—come on,” Ghost grunts, dragging you down onto his length, just using your body how he likes.

The thick head grinds up against a spot deep inside of you, spongy and sensitive. You feel it all the way up in your throat. Every time his cock rubs against that spot, your nails dig into his shoulders. A violent shudder rips through you because this position also lets him grind your clit down against the root of his cock.

“Ghost—”

He ducks his covered mouth into the side of your neck. Even through the fabric, you can feel his lips press a firm, closed-mouth kiss there. “Bit more, bit more, love. Better than you thought it’d be, huh? Fuck. Only thing magic about you is this wet pussy. Fuck hiding this from me—gonna ride it twice a day from now on.”

“Never doing this ever again, you beast—”

Ghost bites you through the mask, the pressure dull but real. It says, try keeping it from me.

When you come, it’s sudden and sharp, painful like a cramp in your belly and then a wave of bone-deep pleasure. Ghost wrangles it from you with a thumb on your clit, pumping up into your pussy at the same time. He wrenches it from you like it’s his, like you have no choice but to come for him because he wants it. You press your whole body against him when you come, arms wrapping around his neck like you need him close. Heat unfolding and leaving you limp. No cauldron has ever boiled as hot as your flesh does now.

He pulls out of you before coming. You watch helplessly as he settles you close enough to keep the heat of your pussy on him and then wraps a firm hand around himself, giving it a few good tugs before a white rope of come spurts from his cock. Right onto your exposed pussy, spilling across your folds. Your mouth drops open on a soft whine as it stripes across your inner thighs and the front of your dress, painting it white.

His harsh pants ebb into something softer as his cock goes flacid against his thigh. You feel boneless, drained of all your energy. Even your magic only gives a pathetic twitch, the tendrils of it curling back up inside of you where it’s nice and warm.

Your cunt feels tender, puffy when you reach down and touch it. You flinch when his fingers graze against yours, also feeling around your swollen lips. Ghost knuckles your fingers out of the way and scoops up the mess he left between your thighs, pushing two fingers just past your entrance. You don’t even have the energy to yelp, only wince and mewl.

He shushes you. “Didn’t even come inside. Quit whining.”

His words are belied by the way he scoops more of his come up into you.

You really don’t like that he follows you home. The march back to your cozy cottage nestled in the middle of the forest feels like a death march, one you might have witnessed in the hundreds of years that you’ve lived here. Worse still because your legs are still wobbly, your sex achy and raw. Still, whenever you pause for a moment or lean against a tree, he nudges you forward with a hand on your back.

“This is unfair,” you snivel, eyes tearing up. “You can’t—this is my forest.”

“The woods don’t belong to anyone, girl,” Ghost counters.

“Yes, they do. I’ve been…it’s been mine for two hundred years.”

“Of course, lovie.” You can almost hear the roll of his eyes. It makes you grit your teeth. You can’t wait to bury him in the backyard with all the bone mandalas.

It doesn’t take long for him to settle in, making himself nice and comfortable on your plush couch with the intricate doilies knitted by your grandmother draped along the back. Your poor couch almost collapses under his weight.

Your cottage is far too small for someone of his size; you built it to accommodate someone of your size, not the behemoth that’s taken up residence in your house. You know that Ghost is more of a man of action than words, but he’s plenty happy to grumble about needing to redo the door to make it big enough for him to come inside without having to duck his head.

“You aren’t going to touch a single brick of my house.”

“I’ll take apart the whole damned thing if I want.”

You keep trying to lift him up with your magic but it does nothing to him and only tires you out because using magic is exhausting. You’re sweating and panting at the end of your efforts while Ghost just stands in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest and a single eyebrow raised. It’s humiliating. You used to be a powerful witch. You still are.

He lets you yell at him until you’re red in the face and then drags you down for a rough fuck. Arguments with Ghost often end that way—you, sore and satiated in your bed, the window opened to let some fresh air in. Him, spread out next to you and dragging you close, playing absentmindedly with a nipple until you pinch his side. That always gets you a meaner pinch, one that leaves you teary-eyed and hot all over again.

Magic might not work on him, but he’s still mortal, so you try to work with that. Bear traps by the windows and doors. Hemlock in the soap. Poison in his stew. He’s stealthier than you anticipate though and seems to have a sixth sense for death.

It’s demeaning and humiliating to be punished for your ‘bad behaviour’ but that’s what he calls it when he passes by the kitchen and catches the stew burping out the telltale skull shaped steam. You’re taken off kitchen duty after that, but the worst part is being trapped under him on the bed with your hands pinned over your head, bottom exposed to him yet again. He laughs a little later on when you squirm around on your hard kitchen chairs because you refuse to sit on his lap.

Sometimes when he has you trapped under him when you’re sleeping—because, of course, he commandeers your bed like it was built for someone his size when truthfully he should be in a bed twice as large—he wakes up to you gnawing at his shoulder and he has to hold you jaw in his hand and rumble out “No biting” before going back to sleep. You stare over his shoulder petulantly, not even bothering to fight the pout. The kettle whispers in the kitchen, fueled by your frustration.

Ghost only lets out a dry, husky laugh. It sends a shiver down your spine.

Asphodel takes to him like a new favourite thing, winding around his legs while you glare from the other room. Damned familiar.

You only start to lighten up when your senses tingle one day when you’re out picking berries in the woods and you come back to find him ruthlessly butchering a band of raiders that had been trampling through your woods. He slaughters them methodically, almost bored. Almost like he does this every day.

You can’t help the way it makes your pussy ache.

He catches the look in your eye. You’ve been alone for far too long in the woods; everything you feel is laid bare, open for anyone to see. Ghost is just always looking.

He grins under the mask, blood splattered across the front of his shirt. “Go on, lovie. I’ll be inside in just a few.”

Molten slickness drips from between your thighs. You bite your lip before you slip away, blood growing feverish when you glance back down at the mangled bodies bleeding out in the red-orange leaves. There’s a severed eye that’s rolled off to the side and your stomach gurgles.

You lick your lip and look up at him from under your eyelashes. “Save me some for supper?”

Ghost’s eyes soften, a sharp contrast from the gore and viscera piled around him. “‘Course, lovie.”

The world seems different with the arrival of him. Cranberries beneath the sycamore, the russet moon on harvest's day, the scent of soldering iron, the laughter woven between your many faces. With him, you feel like the cynosure of all eyes.

In the twilight hours, he presses a hand to your forehead and laves your belly with his tongue like he might push something back in there. The curtains draw shut and the lights flicker off.

#cod mw2 #ceil writing #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #cod simon riley #ghost/reader #ghost cod

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avocado-writing · 4 months

Note

omg… could we get an astarion x reader where the reader is gale’s apprentice? she’s extremely studious and focused on her learning of magic (as gale teaches her to be) and because gale took her on as a young girl she’s never had her first kiss (much less her first time) bc she’s been so focused on her academics… mwahahahahah 😈

notes: reader’s gender isn’t mentioned, but Astarion does call you “little”! (Edit; part 2)

rating: M

words: 1.8k

pairing: astarion x reader

Taglist: bg3 Taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 (let me know if you want to be added!)

“We hope to see you soon!” calls the cashier from behind the desk, waving amicably as you leave with your arms laden with scrolls and books. You manage a smile over your shoulder, no hand free to return the kind gesture.

“I’m sure you will!” you reply. This is true. Gale has probably spent a small fortune at Sorcerous Sundries, and - with the amount of time he’s been spending with Tav recently - supply runs have fallen to you. Not that you particularly mind. It’s nice to get into the city and get away from your mentor and the de facto leader of your group making heart eyes at each other from across the camp. It’s wonderful that he’s found someone (gods know that he deserves it after all that Mystra business) but he doesn’t have to be so bloody nauseating about it.

You wait for a cart to pass, readjust your hold on the pile, and head across the road. You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t hear your name being called for a second and barrel on ahead - it’s only when you become aware of footsteps approaching that you turn.

Astarion isn’t jogging to catch you, exactly. He’s far too precious for that. But he has increased his speed to close the gap, that little smile on his face which you know can only spell trouble.

“Well, fancy running into you, my dear. Isn’t chance a fine thing?” he purrs. You raise an eyebrow.

“What, you fortuitously meeting me at the only store I ever seem to go to?”

He doesn't reply to that, instead putting a hand on his hip and cocking his head.

“It can be dangerous for a little thing like you to walk around a big city alone. Never know who might take advantage.”

He flashes his fangs with his smile, and you swear your cheeks don’t start to burn.

“I know the route back to camp perfectly well…”

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I join you then? Let me help with those books, they seem to be rather precariously perched.”

You take a moment to look him over. He’s got muscle, of course, you’ve seen him with his shirt off at camp, but you’re certain it’s all for show – you are definitely stronger than he is. Being Gale’s glorified pack mule means you have to be. But, suppressing a smile, you press half of your haul into the elf’s waiting arms and chuckle when he stumbles under the unexpected weight.

“You could suggest to your mentor that he gets into a little more light reading,” he mutters, and that makes you laugh properly. He seems pleased with himself for that. Well, more pleased with himself than he usually is, anyway - so you find yourself walking through the city streets with his company.

And it’s… nice. You’ve never been sure what to make of Astarion. He’s a bit too cunning for your usual taste in companion, but there can be no doubt that he’s competent. He travels the city streets with a familiar ease, and when he goes to turn down an alleyway mid-conversation, you almost follow him without thinking.

Almost.

“The thing is I’m sure he eats them, but – what are you doing back there? Keep up, I won’t wait for you,” he says, waiting for you. You shuffle awkwardly, and he reads your face without you having to say a word.

“Come now, I’m not going to bite you. Not unless you want me to,” there’s that damned grin again. You harrumph, knowing full well that’s exactly why you hesitated, but not wanting to show weakness in front of him. Nothing that he can use against you. You scuttle along until you make up the distance, and fall back in step.

Soon it’s just the two of you. The city noise dies down and the sound of your boots echoes in tandem with his. He has you completely alone. He could do whatever he wanted with you. You know he wouldn’t, of course, but… you’d be lying if you said the idea didn’t thrill you, just a tiny bit.

Astarion lets out a laugh.

“Your blood’s started pumping faster. Tell me, little mage, is something making your heart pound?”

Oh, right. Vampire. The bastard is uncannily attuned to these things.

“No!” you say, quickly, but there’s not much fire behind it, no real sincerity. His lip quirks.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, you know. It’s alright to feel desire. Gale doesn’t seem to take very good care of you, after all…”

That makes you stick your tongue out and gag. You totally ignore the first part of that sentence and spit:

“Eurgh, Gale? Absolutely not! He’s like my brother. We’ve known each other since… well, for as long as I can remember, honestly,” you say. And it’s true. You love him, of course, but not like that. Maybe you’re a bit jealous of Tav but only because they’re taking up so much of his time. You’re desperate to have another magic lesson. It feels like it’s been ages since he’s taught you anything, and you’ve been somewhat demoted to his personal assistant rather than his student. You can’t be too upset, though. He does have that tadpole in his head, so things are probably a lot more pressing to him than teaching you how to properly refine your Fireball spell.

Astarion sees how introspective you’ve become. You have a habit of chewing on your lip when you’re lost in thought, and he’s become quite partial to it. It’s… sweet. Secretly he’s become quite partial to you. You’re endearing, bullheadedly stubborn, but sincere and enthusiastic. A bright spark in a dark world and he is drawn to you, whether he wants to be or not.

He’s harbouring something for you, and doesn’t quite want to admit what that might be. So he teases.

“You really do take up all of your time with studying, don’t you?”

You shrug as much as you can beneath your armful of books.

“Wouldn’t you, if you had the best tutor around? Wouldn’t you want to learn every single thing you possibly could?”

“All that time squirrelled away over a spell book. I wonder if you’ve ever even been kissed.”

You stop dead. Ah, he thinks. Got you.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you snap, but you know your voice wobbles a little. A bit of a sore spot if you’re honest. Seeing Gale and Tav has made you realise that, actually, maybe there is something you long for. Something more.

“Ahh, so you haven’t. There’s no shame in that, little mage.”

Your cheeks are burning. You can’t look him in the eye. Thank the gods the two of you are alone, you wouldn’t want anyone to see you so flabbergasted.

“I’m… you’re…” you struggle to find words to adequately express how you feel. Furious. Embarrassed? A whole tide of things all at once, rooting you to the ground.

He walks closer. If he was living, you’d be able to feel the heat coming off of him. He puts his pile of books on the top of a part-built wall, then takes yours to do the same. You don’t resist.

“Would you like to be kissed?”

You manage to drag your eyes up from the ground to meet his gaze, searching it for any hint of insincerity. He is teasing you, a bit, but… his eyes are surprisingly soft.

He means it.

And before you can think it over, you nod.

His lips are soft. Far softer than you expected for a vampire. His kiss gently presses your mouth open, allowing for a lithe and curious swipe of his tongue. You eagerly accept it, voice catching in your throat a little in a half-rendered moan.

He tastes like mint. It’s fresh. It’s sweet.

You want more.

Carefully you put a hand on either one of his biceps, a gentle test of the muscle there. It might be only for show, but it’s firm enough for you to enjoy how it feels in your grip. You sense him smile against your mouth and deepen the kiss, running his fingers up the length of your arm until he can cup your face; grip the back of your head.

When he walks you back to press up against the alleyway wall, you trust him; and when he hooks your collar down with a single long finger, exposing your neck, that half-moan comes back with full force.

“That’s it,” he sighs, feather-light, “let me hear you, you sweet thing.”

His mouth leaves yours in order to kiss a long line down your jugular. His teeth ghost the skin there, but he never threatens to bite.

Not unless you want me to.

You find yourself trusting him absolutely. His tongue flicks against your pulse and you thrust your hips forward inadvertently. It’s an impulse. An instinct. But it has an impact, and you hear Astarion catch his breath just a bit.

“Where have you been hiding all this?” he asks, gravel filling his voice as you thread your fingers into his hair.

“Maybe you never gave me a reason to show it to you.”

He seems to like that answer, so when he slips his leg between yours, presses his thigh up to your sex… gods, you start to rock against him without a second thought.

It’s good. It feels good. Good in a way only your own hands have ever made you feel, late at night, beneath your bedroll with fucking Astarion, Astarion, Astarion running through your head.

“Look at you. All desperate for me. What do you want me to do, little mage? Where do you want me to touch?”

You take his hand and guide it down your body, yes gods yes to the apex of your legs, and —

Greetings! Hope I’m not catching you at a bad moment, but need those books at camp ASAP. Do let me know when you’ll be back!

Gale’s Sending is like a cold bucket of ice through your body, and you freeze under Astarion’s ministrations. The moment is utterly shattered. A hand on his chest moves him away and he acquiesces, confused but not pushing back.

“Hello Gale,” you sigh out loud, letting the elf know the reason for the interruption. “Will be back as soon as possible. Not too far from the camp now. Sorry for the delay. Got a little… held up.”

And then you’re just standing there. In an alley. With Astarion. And you feel very silly all of a sudden, very small. Once again your eyes drop to the floor and you start grabbing the books, quickly, anything to distract you from how humiliated you feel. You’re not sure if it’s because you let yourself give into him so easily or if it’s because you didn’t want him to stop — and you’re a bit terrified at how far you’d have let him go.

“I’ll see you at camp,” you manage to stutter out, before practically running away.

Astarion watches you go. Your departure stings.

#astarion x you #astarion x reader #Astarion x tav #Request #bg3 fic

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trendywaifus · 7 months

Text

↳ not in love, baby it’s just lust!

always look both ways and behind you when you walk at night.

↳ featuring, michael myers! jingliu

—cw, sub! fem! reader, jingliu has a cock, face fucking, murder mentioned, gagging, cursing, size–kink, death of a character, dub-con

the sounds of your heavy breathing and wheezing echoes through the narrow walls of the horribly lit alleyway. your limbs burned with exhaustion and you were on the verge of passing out from nonstop running. the hot tears you desperately tried to wipe away, continuously runs down your flushed cheeks. you meet face to face with a dead end, your blood runs cold. “ o-oh my fucking god!” you slammed your palm against the cold brick wall in frustration. “ i just did a dumb white girl move, why did i even turn into this alleyway?! “

you whipped around, hoping to scramble out of the narrow space before your pursuer comes. you halted after a few steps in upon seeing the tall shadow of a silhouette steadily approaching towards your only escape route out. “ o-of course the motherfucker shows up. .! “ you muttered harshly, watching in horror as the looming figure stands tall at the entrance of the alleyway. your eyes trails down to what looks like to be a knife in their hand. “ oh fuck, i’m going to die because i wanted to buy a bag of shitty candy from the shitty corner store at night. .”

they began to approach, taking slow, calculated steps towards you. the knife twirls in their hand almost playfully as you backed up, frantically looking around for a weapon to use. “ last w-words of advice, if you’re interested in a woman, h-how about you not follow them and try to kill them, mister i. .—miss?” you were at a loss of words as her appearance became more visible under the shitty flickering lights. she had on a familiar worn–out fox mask, rivers of white hair flowed down her shoulders from underneath it. she wore a grey coverall jumpsuit that shaped her fit body.

“ th-this somehow got worse—you were the one who was following me? i seriously just heard about you on the news last night. god, i’m so fucked! “ you sobbed, forcing yourself up against the wall. a man by the name of yingxing was brutally murdered in his own home yesterday in broad daylight. it’s so happen that a witness caught a few glimpses of the masked killer somewhere outside the home after the murder and was able to give the police a distinctive description of her. why did you have to be the one to confirm it’s accurate in the worst way possible?

swallowed by her presence as she now towers over your figure, her dull red eyes peers down at you through the slits of the mask, amused by your pathetic mental breakdown. she raises her knife up and you instinctively closed your eyes shut, waiting for the sharp pain to come. instead, a cool metal gently brushes against your cheek, wiping away stray tears. you flinched, opening your eyes to stare at the masked woman with confusion.

“ d-did you just. . .? “ she tilts her head, letting out a low chuckle at your cute reaction. your brows furrowed, she’s either fucking with you or—she actually took your advice? “ maybe i won’t die tonight if i play my cards right. .” you whispered. taking a deep breath, you mustered up a tight-lipped smile. “ i-i heard a lot about you, including your name. jing. .liu, correct? “ she stares at you for a moment before slowly nodding.

“ you have such a beautiful name and you seem like a. .reasonable woman, jingliu. i actually want to go home since it’s like late at night and i think my mother is worried about me. you wouldn’t mind stepping aside so i can go, right? you’re kind of blocking the way—n-not to be rude. .”

jingliu says nothing, nor did she move aside to allow you to pass. instead, she takes a step forward, practically sandwiching you between her and the wall. you yelped, placing your palms against her stomach. it’s safe to assume that she did not want you to leave nor was she interested in killing you. her calloused hand cups your cheek, caressing the skin tenderly. you laughed nervously, “ i-i guess you already taken a liking to me. fucking perfect. “

your breath hitches as she leans down to your face, the rough texture of the mask grazes your cheek. you shifted uncomfortably against her, earning a soft groan. “ s-sorry? why did you make that—oh.” a soft bulge rubs against your thigh, causing you to stiffen up. jingliu swiftly tosses the knife to the side, the metal object hits the asphalt with a loud clang. her hands lands on your hips, forcing them to grind against hers. “ e-easy, easy, jingliu! “ you gasped, holding back a soft moan. fuck, a small adjustment easily triggered her?

she grunts, easing her grip on your hips but her movements doesn’t falter. “ sh-shit. . “ arousal shamelessly stirs in your belly, slowly dragging you into a mess of dirty thoughts about the feral woman. she hastily pulls up her mask, just enough to free the lower half of her face and smashed her lips against yours. the searing kiss was nothing but tongue and teeth. she easily overpowered you, not caring about bruising your lips. her hands journeys up your sides, wishing to explore every nook and cranny of your body.

her tongue hungrily explores your warm cavern, swallowing your whimpers. lust consumes you whole, trapping you in its hold and starts plucking away at any rational thought you had about the reality of the current situation. without hesitation, your hand slides down her stomach and squeezed at the hardened bulge. a deep growl emits from jingliu’s throat, she rolls her hips against your palm. “ god, it went from wanting to go home to wanting to fuck a suspected serial killer. ” you breathed, unzipping the jumpsuit from under the waistband, freeing her cock from its restraints.

jingliu’s lips parts as she laughs huskily at the irony. she firmly sets her hand on your shoulder and easily pushes you down to your knees. she hooks her hand on the back of your head, urging you to open your mouth. you complied, allowing her length to slide inside. her breath hitches, taken aback by how good you feel. your jaw tenses as jingliu fully pushes herself in until the tip was kissing the back of your throat.

suddenly, she jerks her hips forward, forcing her cock down your throat causing you to gag. she pulls back before doing it again. each time, it gets deeper and sloppy until she’s repeatedly fucking your tight throat without a care in the world. series of throaty moans and sounds of wet squelching fills the empty night sky. drool runs down your chin as you struggled to accommodate her size and pace. your palms pressed against her thighs to at least cease her speed but she was far more stronger than you.

her cock twitches in your mouth, signaling her inevitable climax. throwing her head back in pure ecstasy, she thrusts into your mouth one final time before loads of cum shoots down your throat. jingliu doesn’t pull out until she’s sure you’ve swallowed everything. once she was satisfied, she releases your head, finally allowing you to cough and breathe properly.

“ fuck. . “ you cursed, massaging your tense jaw. jingliu snatches you up by the forearm and pulls you up without warning. she presses you back into the wall, peppering your face with feverish kisses. her deft hands find themselves unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down to your ankles for you to kick off. her eyes looks you up and down hungrily, gaze lingering on your bare legs and panties. she places her hands on your sides and easily lifts you up from off the ground. you yelp, circling your legs around her waist.

she smirks at you, sliding your panties to the side to push her drool—covered cock inside your cunt. you both moan in sync as your walls clamp around her. “ l-let me adjust—nngh! “ ignoring your request, jingliu sinks you down to the hilt, completely filling you up. she pants heavily into your ear, retracting her hips back before thrusting right in again. “ s’big, i-i c-can’t! “ you moaned, pushing at her shoulders.

she holds you tighter and moves away to send you a threatening look. her once blank ruby eyes were wild, glistening with unadulterated lust. the masked woman finally uses her tongue to speak, her voice was raspy and low as she growled,

“ don’t. .push . .me. .away . ! “

#trendy #jingliu x reader #jingliu #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail women x reader

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vampiretendencies · 1 year

Note

ok but imagine instead of kie getting taken by singh’s men it’s JJ & Y/N who would do anything for each other.

like “don’t touch her!” and “let go of him!” and singh realizes their in love and ugh. been thinking about this

most definitely can imagine this and i’m gonna die on the spot so i made this little blurb to satisfy our imaginations. send me your thoughts and i’ll elaborate on them !

cw; fluff, mentions of death, guns, & s3

pairing; jj x fem!reader

The inseparable pair knew they were preeminently fucked.

No sign of parasitical nuance or help for miles, just the company of the other. Selfishly, though either of them are thanking God, that they’ve gotten captured with the other. For no one else of the Pogues would bring such infamous relief and solace— being completely infatuated tended to do that.

And at least if they die in this place, they die together.

Getting to experience a love so unheard of.

You shivered in the bed of the truck— boring your eyes with envy at the gaurd that stood tall upon arrival to Singh’s ‘operation’. If only you’d gone the same route as Kie, Pope, John B, Sarah, and Cleo, such an impact as the plane delving into water had you borderline shell shocked. But, JJ wasn’t having that either, immediately b-lining in your same opposite direction— wherever you stray, he follows.

Which explains this phenomenon before you.

The harsh metal in the truck bed is making your ass go completely numb, knees tucked into your chest in complete and utter panic. JJ’s stomach was whirling with fear, yet he vowed not show it, pulling you into his side— even in the first moments the two of you were shoved and practically thrown back there. His arm envelops you tightly, his slightly grown out mullet catching air lightly whilst he rests his chin on your shoulder. A mesh of two soaking bodies, kneading into one another.

“Gonna’ get us out of here baby.” Is all JJ whispers into the shell of your ear, before peppering sweet domestic kisses to your temple, the contact granting him some form of grace. Now you knew JJ’s plans were elaborate and full of unnecessary schemes but sometimes they worked and sometimes they didn’t. You were choosing to trust that whatever he could weasel his way into this time, would work.

The halt of the truck was sudden, sending you and JJ to a slight jolt forward. A bright white, poled in mansion-like image is in view; bulging eyed stares are shared between the two of you and JJ is secretly shitting himself as he’s walking into this blind. Guards similar to the one towering over you in the truck bed are surrounding the home, khaki colored uniforms a compliment to the guns accompanying them. Such variety as they all held one with a differentiating aim.

No words are spoken, not even a ‘get out’. Though you are being yanked up by your arm like a rag doll— wasn’t exactly something you were prepared for. Two guards stand opposite, winnowing down the trunk flat. In one swift movement, his large tight fist is clamping down onto your much smaller arm. The form of security that rode in the truck bed with you and JJ, mimicks— doing the same to JJ as the other is doing to you.

JJ is biting down so violently on his bottom lip, that the familiar taste of metallic blood is seeping into the inside of his mouth. Putting hands like that on his girl, is nearly asking ‘do you want me to splatter your brains across this pavement?’, and he’d gladly do it with a grin on his face. His vice grip is so tight on you, that his fingernails are leaving crescent moon indentions into your untouched skin, and JJ can feel his insides boiling with pure distaste.

All it takes is maybe two steps out of the truck, toward the unpromising place and JJ elbowing the man in his best, knocking his breath away. He’s squirming to get to you, and you haven’t peered back at him yet. “Let go of her fucking arm, you piece of shit.” JJ spat, nailing your gaurd at the back of his ankle with the spiked bottom of a his combat boot. Walking separate in pairs, not even making it the doomed front door.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, big shot.”

Your guard turns, taking you with him to face JJ. With roaring sun causing a slight glint in your eye. Falsified nickname, is fueling the ignition to the fire that’s burning tauntingly inside of him. The gaurd that’s sustaining JJ, has his arms stuffed dislocated like behind his back, and you wanted to stomp his face in unrecognizable.

Unbeknownst to the pair, Singh had been watching— taking note that the arrival time was much too late than as planned. Gazing through the stained glass filled doors, the alluring scene unfolding before him beneath his shaded driveway was entertaining. His muscular guards, unable to withstand two teenagers.

“Don’t ever touch him like that.”

You bit back, the way his arm was twisted it could’ve passed for being broken. Just as your boyfriend was protective of you, you were protective of him. That’s just how the dynamic always worked. Consequences don’t come to mind when you cherish your lovers life over your own— there could be a gaping hole that’s causing the world to cave in, if one was to fall the other is diving in, no second thoughts.

He’d balance with bare feet on boiling hot coals.

And you’d walk into a bank, full ski mask on, to rob it.

It doesn’t matter the length, their relationship is evidence of doing anything for someone.

So tight knit that everyone back home in Kildare was typically aware of the couples unwavering deepened love. Affectionate, intimate, and everything in between.

If they were to go on living it wouldn’t be without the other.

It wasn’t dumb luck, it was fate.

It’s taking Singh seeing this moment to fully understand that. He’s taken aback by the powerful besot, does it mean he will ease up on them, no. To Singh, those lives are of no importance to him, the gold came before anything.

“Your gonna’ earn your boyfriend here a shot to the head. That what you want?”

JJ can’t help but smirk mischievously at you for rooting for him. He was quite the sight, darkened eyes through damp tresses, muscles prominent past his sleeveless tee. Definitely not something you should be paying grace attention to right now. A gun is lifted to the center of JJ’s forehead, but you don’t fault. Figuring you’ve already trampled through all this mess, what’s the worst.

“Then you’ll have to shoot me too.”

“Glady-“

“You will do nothing of the sort. They are in love y’know.”

The short man with slick hair comes into view, signaling the guards to release the two of you. Embracing eachother within milliseconds, you are colliding with JJ’s chest. A slow kiss is shared, one that is full of yearn and luminous luster. Hands roaming to assure themselves that they were there in one piece and alive. This earns a clap from Singh, more than right about the couple being instantaneously in love.

“So what? cause’ they’re in love they get a free pass?!”

The guards stood dumbfounded, faces scrunched in disgust at Singh thinking all of this under-minded work to get them their was for nothing. All Singh could do was chuckle— they really didn’t know him, did they?

“Perhaps they will hold hands in death, if they don’t get me what I want.”

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #obx3 #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank imagines

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evilminji · 5 months

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Back at it again with the BNHA crossover Ponderings!

Nedzu is LITERALLY one of THE smartest beings on the planet, right? Like... he's probably on some internationally recognized list of Top Planetary IQs? Which is why Japan let's him get away with so much?

Cause they REALLY fucked him over, he has the power to leave, and that would be really, REALLY bad Brain Drain wise/politically for the Japanese Government? (Also pls don't become a Supervillian we literally can not afford that, Mr. Nedzu Sir? Etc etc)

You think he has... like? Chats? With the OTHER top intellects? Some kid in Siberia with the New Super Intelligence Quirk his parents can't begin to even handle, gets put in history's WEIRDEST group chat? I like to think so.

But the REASON I ask this?

What hero do you call? For Weird Shit in international waters?

Suspicious, floating, weirdly two dimensional and HIGHLY radioactive... corrosive... green goop? Rings? Orbs? CAN it be an orb if it's two dimensional? It certainly LOOKS like there is depth to it... somehow...

A THING. In the sky.

Shouldn't be there, man. This is a shipping lane. It's scaring the people on passing ships. No one knows what Quirk could have made this. Might be a trafficking victim's call for help. Might be a first Quirk Use mishap. They need to know what it IS and how to get rid of it.

They go the normal routes first. Doesn't work. Okay, call in some professionals. Kinda pricey, but no big. Right? Doesn't work. Okaaaay, call in a SPECIALIST. REAL pricey, but this thing is holding up international trade, making people in fancy ass suit all Nervous(TM).

Doesn't Work.

Specialist tells um to not to bother with calling anyone else on their normal list. Is looking at the green goo like it spat on his mother and called his dog a whore. They would prefer he NOT make that facial expression. That is a facial expression that will get them yelled at by their bosses. Fuck(TM).

Now Politics(TM) are involved. People want to STUDY the green goo. Harness it for dubious and unknown green goo experiments. Poke it with their Quirk to see what'll happen. There's fuckin REPORTER with no concept of self-preservation, trying to get CLOSER to the RADIOACTIVE POISON GOO.

Fuckin Heros have shown up.

Why are you bastards even HERE. What? Are you peacocks gonna PUNCH it? Get off their rig! Stop posing in front of the GOO!

Then? Oh thank GOD. The SMART people show up. Certified, highest grade, triple refined, PREMIUM Nerds(TM). The WAY above our pay grade folks. We're SAVED! Can we PLEASE go home now? We are just ocean cleaners! Our job is debris! Not weird GOO!

Enter, stage Super Cool Helicopters? The Elite Nerds of Earth. Of which Nedzu is one. Since Japan is closest. And it's a school weekend! He had some time.

And?

Ha ha... Thanks, he hates it! Nedzu's stoat brain is SCREAMING and he wants NOTHING to do with...? What he is somehow CERTAIN is a floating pit of Death! Interesting effect. Anyone getting that or just him?

Then? Some hot head on loan to Korea from the states? Spots something. SomeONE. And does he TELL the newly arrived professionals? So they may do a risk assessment? Figure out a way to rescue this individual SAFELY? Of course not!

Said hot head has supposedly indescribable chains! So he just flings them rights on in! Grabbing the boy from the center of the portal, pulling him free, and in the process? Immediately destabilizing it. Causing it to collapse down towards everyone bellow.

He also then proceeds to DROP the young lad, in his alarm at this entirely predictable outcome.

Right. Into. The Ocean.

A boy, who is dressed in filthy medical scrubs, haunting familiar in a way nothing should EVER be again, and entirely unconscious. Plunge down into the briny deeps and bitter cold. Alone. Abandoned. Death, thick and viscous, losing form and raining down like bile.

Everyone saving themselves.

Ah, he rather liked this suit.

The salt water ruins it. The droplets of Green, burn like molten glass each time they touch him. He will likely have at least a few new scars, after today. Assuming this is not the end of him. But he swims fast. The boy sinking slower then his size would suggest he should. He grabs hold and arcs, dragging them both from beneath the fallout of yet another humans hubris.

He does not stop swimming. Not until he knows he is near the helicopter. He is thankful, that he dragged Aizawa along. The man takes one look at his serious expression, the state of his rescued young friend, and merely hauls them both out of the water and into the machine.

Time to go.

They saw nothing, it seems. And there is nothing to be found.

The boy does not wake. Not for quite a while. Long enough, that Nedzu, perhaps unwisely, has grown attached. Is considering adoption. If only too terrorize a few goverment bodies. And... well... the boy will need some who UNDERSTANDS. And the scars paint a very specific sort of tale. But first, the most important question, when beginning these things...

"Tea? Or would you prefer coffee?"

@the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter @hdgnj

#minji's ponderings #bnhaxdp #dp x bnha #principal nedzu

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weemssapphic · 4 months

Text

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 16

previous chapter | next chapter | series page

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

summary: Wednesday gets herself into some trouble. (chapter-specific warning for smut)

words: ~ 4k | ao3 link in title

A/N: here's another chapter to make up for being gone so long! once again thank you to @afeatherformills for all of the planning and beta-ing, and to my gf as well. enjoy!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Tuesday was one of the most hectic days you’d experienced since the start of the semester. You’d wanted to show up at Nevermore in the early evening, preventing Larissa from working even more overtime and spending as much time with her as possible - but now it was nearing 8 pm and you were still stuck in your university’s art studio, desperate to finish up a project that was due this week. You’d let Larissa know that you’d drop by a little later than planned, apologizing profusely and promising to text her when you were on your way. She said she didn’t mind, of course, but you still felt bad.

A nervous energy filled your entire being as you painted the last stroke on your canvas, then hurried to clean up after yourself. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you rushed out of the art studio and through the halls straight out to the parking lot. The only thing on your mind was getting to see Larissa as soon as possible - you shot her a text that you were on your way, then pulled out of the parking lot and started the drive to Nevermore.

You decided to take a shortcut tonight - usually you weren’t a fan of this route, especially late at night, as it was even more remote than your usual way and kind of gave you the creeps. But it would be worth it tonight, and in your hurry to be with Larissa you didn’t pay any mind to the miles upon miles of tall, dark trees looming on either side of the road or the light fog blanketing the street as you drove.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your phone screen light up from where you’d tossed it onto the seat next to you - with half an eye on the road, you leaned over and picked it up, glancing down.

Larissa: Drive safe, my love.

You smiled down at your phone, biting your lip as you dropped it into the cupholder next to you and looked back up at the road - your heart leaping as you found yourself slamming on the brakes to avoid hitting the girl running across the road towards a parked car.

Your car screeched to a halt, the girl illuminated by the glow of your headlights. She stared back at you with wide eyes, looking absolutely terrified - and vaguely familiar, with her blonde hair and pastel sweater. With your heart pounding, your eyes darted over to the side of the road and you felt your stomach drop. Wednesday. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.

Putting your car in park, you tentatively opened the door and stepped out onto the road, taking a step towards the blonde, who still stood inches away from the hood of your car. There was a loud clattering as the flashlight she held dropped onto the road.

Your gaze darted questioningly towards Wednesday, whose face was an impassive mask, impossible to read. She was flanked by two boys - one of whom you recognized as the Weathervane’s barista, though why his shirt was ripped open and covered in blood, you couldn’t fathom. You glanced behind them at the open gates leading up to a huge, desolate mansion, overgrown with weeds and vines - it made a shiver run down your spine, and made your blood go cold as you imagined these kids out here alone.

“Dare I ask?”

“Do you know her?” one of the boys asked Wednesday. She opened her mouth to speak, but the next words came out of the mouth of the young blonde who was practically trembling in front of you.

“She’s Weems’ girlfriend.”

“I-” you felt your cheeks heat up at the interested glance the boy then afforded you. You swallowed thickly - there was no point in playing coy now, not when you were standing on a remote street in the middle of the night with a bunch of teenagers who were clearly hurt. “Yeah, I am. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that she doesn’t know about this and that you’re not supposed to be out here?”

When you received no answer, your gaze darted back over to the mansion. It was definitely giving you the creeps, and you weren’t keen on wasting any more time standing out here in the cold staring at it. “Well either way, can I take you guys back to Nevermore?”

“Yes, please!” the blonde exclaimed - though she was quickly cut off by Wednesday.

“Tyler is hurt, we need to get him home first.”

“I can do that,” you said gently.

“What about my car?”

You raised your eyebrow at the boy who’d spoken, whose chest was practically ripped open and dripping blood. “Pick it up in the morning,” you suggested firmly. “I don’t think you should drive like that.”

He looked like he was about to argue, but then he winced in pain as he stepped forward. “Fine. My dad’s gonna kill me…”

With another nervous glance towards the mansion, you gestured towards your car - the blonde immediately picked up her flashlight and got in the passenger side. The two boys looked to Wednesday, waiting for her lead. After another moment’s hesitation, she got into the back of your car, the boys squeezing in next to her.

You grabbed your phone, unlocking it and handing it to Tyler. “Put your address in Google Maps.” He obliged, handing you the phone back with an address in Jericho - you started the car again, driving a little faster than usual to put the creepy old house behind you.

“What happened to your chest?” you asked with a glance in the rearview mirror. Tyler caught your gaze, then looked nervously down at Wednesday.

“He was attacked.”

“By…?”

The other boy interjected, giving you a distrustful glare. “The bear that’s been all over the news.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “He’s lucky to have gotten away then.”

The kids remained silent for the remainder of the drive, sharing looks amongst themselves. Once you reached Tyler’s house, they hopped out of the car, escorting Tyler inside. You trailed in behind them - at the other boy’s raised eyebrow, you told him you weren’t driving back to Nevermore without Larissa’s students.

Wednesday took a few minutes to patch Tyler up - the blonde girl (Enid, as you’d come to learn) sat off to the side, openly panicking until Tyler’s wound was dressed and you managed to usher the three Nevermore students back out to your car to drive them back to school. Before pulling out onto the road, you shot Larissa another text.

Y/N: I’m sorry, I had to get gas. I’ll be there in 10.

Okay, so it was definitely a lie, but there was no use worrying her prematurely - you’d figure out how to explain the situation in person.

“I didn’t know Weems was a lesbian.”

“Xavier!” Enid exclaimed, turning in her seat to glare at the boy. You looked into the rearview mirror with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m sure there are a lot of things your principal doesn’t feel the need to share with you,” you replied coolly.

“You can’t tell her we were out, though,” Enid said, her voice laced with panic. “Nevermore is on lockdown, if she finds out she’ll expel us.”

“I’m sure she won’t expel you,” you replied softly, trying to sound comforting as you chewed at your lip. Would she?

~~~

The decision of whether or not to tell Larissa about her students being out during lockdown was taken from your hands, however, when the four of you entered the school. Wednesday turned the corner towards the stairs first, stopping abruptly and looking up to the landing - Enid stopped dead in her tracks next to you, her eyes widening in fear.

Larissa’s voice sounded from the top of the stairs. “Ms. Addams, I see you’ve found your way back to campus.”

Enid glanced up at you, biting her lip. You placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be okay,” you whispered, leading her around the corner with Xavier trailing behind you.

Larissa stood on the landing of the staircase, glaring down at Wednesday. Her eyes immediately darted over to you when you came into sight with Enid and Xavier in tow and her brow furrowed. You could see her lip quivering as confusion and uncertainty filled her gaze. “Would someone care to explain to me what is going on?” She both looked and sounded furious. “I’ve just received a phone call from the sheriff, who informed me that he came home to find his son injured.”

“I drove him home,” you offered. Larissa’s eyes darted from Wednesday to you, drinking you in carefully and taking in the way you were squeezing Enid’s shoulder. “I took a shortcut here and ran into them, I gave them a lift.” You smiled apologetically - Larissa’s gaze softened a fraction, though she still looked both angry and worried.

“I was beginning to worry. About all of you.” Her voice caught in her throat and you suddenly felt guilt pool in the pit of your stomach for worrying her.

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed, watching the almost imperceptible upward curl of Larissa’s lips in acknowledgment of your apology, before the smile was replaced with a deep frown as she directed her attention back to her students.

“Mr. Thorpe, Miss Sinclair, I’d like to ask you to come to my office tomorrow to discuss disciplinary action for violating lockdown. For now, please go straight back to your dorms. I’d like to speak with Miss Addams alone.”

Enid met your gaze - after a moment’s hesitation, she pulled you into a tight hug, before turning and walking dejectedly up the stairs. Larissa watched her go, a mixture of disappointment and something else you couldn’t quite place in her gaze.

“Um, I’ll wait in your office?” you suggested, biting the inside of your cheek as you watched Larissa carefully.

“Please.” Larissa’s tone was just a hint softer when she spoke with you, sapphire eyes swimming with emotion.

You nodded and made your way up the stairs - as you passed by her, Larissa reached out to give your hand a squeeze. You could barely make out the sound of her scolding Wednesday as you disappeared down the corridor towards the office.

~~~

It didn’t take long at all for Larissa to come back to her office - you were sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace, picking nervously at your nails when the door swung open and then slammed shut. You didn’t bother turning around as you heard the click of Larissa’s heels come closer and closer, until they were right behind you.

“Darling,” Larissa sighed, pressing her lips to the crown of your head. She buried her nose into your hair, breathing you in as her arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind. “You took so long, I nearly called the police.”

You twisted in her grip to look up at her, rushing to explain yourself and stumbling over your words. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to break it to you over the phone that I found Wednesday standing outside of an abandoned old mansion with her friends in the middle of the night without worrying you even more.”

Larissa chuckled, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I suppose you’re right, I don’t think that would have assuaged my worries…” She opened her eyes, looking directly into your own and cupping your cheek ever so gently. “I’m extremely glad you’re alright, though.” Her lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss that took your breath away with its tenderness. “Thank you for looking after them and taking them home.”

“Of course.” You hesitated for a moment. “You aren’t going to expel them, are you? Enid is very worried.”

“I’m not going to expel them,” Larissa confirmed, straightening up and walking over to a little cabinet in the corner of the room. “But Wednesday is on thin ice. I can’t afford to give that girl any more chances.” She let out a deep sigh as she turned to face you again, approaching the sofa with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“What were they even doing out there?”

Larissa rolled her eyes as she settled next to you, pouring a generous amount of red into each of the glasses. “Wednesday is convinced there’s a monster behind those attacks, and that she can find out what it is.”

You nodded your head slowly, mulling over the information carefully. “And what do you think it is?”

“It’s just a bear,” she said with a sigh, her gaze dropping to the flames in the fireplace, watching them flicker and dance. The worry in her eyes was not lost on you but she seemed unwilling to talk about it further, so you decided to drop the subject. For now. Larissa handed you one of the glasses - you clinked it against hers, causing her lips to curl into a small smile.

“Seems like it’s been quite the semester - my high school wasn’t nearly as interesting,” you said playfully, causing Larissa to chuckle.

“There’s always something happening at Nevermore, but it’s been an unusual semester even for myself…” She took a sip of her wine, humming softly and kicking her heels off so that she could put her feet up on the sofa, turning to face you. She slid her feet towards you until her toes were stuck underneath your thigh - even through your jeans, you could feel how cold they were.

“Jesus, Riss, you’re freezing,” you said with a laugh, leaning away from her and trying to shoo her away. She pouted, sliding her feet out farther and chasing your warmth. You rolled your eyes and placed your glass down on the coffee table. “Fine, come here.”

Larissa’s pout turned into a satisfied smirk when you lifted her feet onto your lap, your hands providing her with some warmth. “What would you do without me?” you teased.

“I’d be living a sad life, indeed. And I’d be freezing constantly,” she teased back, taking a sip of her wine. Her gaze softened a fraction and she rested her head on the back of the sofa, watching you with a relaxed, pensive look on her face.

“What?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks grow warm under her gaze.

“Nothing,” she whispered back. “I’m just lucky to have you, that’s all.”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“Don’t even try to argue with me on that one, darling.”

You smiled, biting your lip - of course you were ready to argue that point until your face went blue. Subconsciously, your hands began to rub Larissa’s feet, trying to get them warm. As your thumbs soothed over a pressure point on the arch of her foot, Larissa’s eyelids fluttered shut and a barely audible moan left her lips. Watching her face carefully, you repeated the movement - her lips parted slightly, her eyelids fluttered.

You began alternating between using your thumbs and your knuckles to loosen up the muscles in her feet - every movement of your hands caused Larissa to moan louder and deeper, her cheeks reddening as she seemed unable to control the noises she was making. You paused in your massage, leaning over her and plucking the glass out of her hand, setting it aside.

“Lay back,” you instructed. Larissa’s eyes opened and you could see how turned on she was from how wide her pupils had gotten. She nodded, leaning back against the armrest of the sofa and wiggling a bit to get comfortable. You settled at her feet, continuing the massage, your eyes never leaving Larissa’s face as it relaxed once again. This time, though, you moved your hands higher, rubbing your fingers against her calves and really kneading into her muscles. You took your time with her, delighting in every moan and groan that you were able to extract from the blonde beneath you, every breathy sigh and pleased hum that left her lips.

Once you reached her knees, you pushed her dress up her thighs - though you quickly found that it was a bit too tight to go as far as you’d have liked. “Can I take it off?” you murmured sweetly, waiting for an affirming hum before pulling it as far up Larissa’s body as you could - she sat up to help you pull it the rest of the way off of her body, and you tossed it to the floor.

Settling back between her legs, you returned to massaging Larissa’s calves - nice and slow, reveling in the supple softness of her skin, switching between each leg. The blonde relaxed under your touch, her eyes falling shut again and her head tipping back against the armrest of the sofa.

You couldn’t help but stare at the ethereal woman before you, desire pooling in your core as you drank her in. The flames flickered and danced, illuminating the soft curves of her torso, catching on the off-white fabric of her bra, bouncing off the golden necklace she wore and kissing her neck. Her lace-clad breasts, her stomach, her face - all cast in shadow. She was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen - a divine, heavenly creature who seemed to exude a light of her own, one that you were all too happy to bask in.

This time your hands didn’t stop as you reached her knees - you began massaging her thighs, your firm touch becoming lighter the higher you went as Larissa’s breath grew heavier, her moans giving way to soft gasps. When you reached her upper, inner thigh, you leaned in, replacing your hands with your tongue - this elicited a shuddering whimper from the blonde, who arched her back off the sofa. Her hands, which had been folded over her stomach, came to rest on your head, fingers curling into your hair and tugging gently.

“Is this okay?” you whispered, your mouth inches away from her cunt. There was a wet spot at the center of her panties and you felt your own arousal grow at the sight.

“Yes, darling.” Larissa’s voice was breathy with desire and she spread her legs wider, gently pushing your head towards her center.

You chuckled at her neediness and began to press featherlight kisses to each thigh, alternating as you got closer and closer to where she needed you most. The scent of her arousal filled your nostrils - it was enough to make you slightly dizzy, drool pooling in your mouth. You placed a gentle kiss to her clit over her underwear, then used your teeth to tug at the waistband of the lacy panties - Larissa moved her hips to make it easier for you to pull them down her body.

Returning to your position between her legs, you used the tip of your tongue to lick a path up her slit. She bucked her hips up into your mouth, her hands returning to your hair and twisting so hard that it hurt a bit - the pain felt delicious in contrast to the pleasurable throbbing of your own clit, and you squeezed your thighs together to relieve some of the tension so that you could focus on Larissa and her pleasure.

You allowed your tongue to explore her folds, slowly getting drunk on the taste of her and losing yourself in the sheer ecstasy that came with feeling her drip onto your tongue, knowing that her arousal was all for you. A pleased moan clawed its way out of your throat, vibrating against Larissa’s pussy and drawing an equally filthy groan from her own throat.

She began to gyrate her hips against your face, setting a fast pace which you met with eager licks. Red-tipped nails scratched at your head as she tugged your hair, drawing more whimpers from your lips which went through Larissa’s body like shockwaves of pleasure.

As Larissa’s moans became louder and more animalistic, your arousal grew, until the ache between your own thighs was impossible to ignore. You found yourself reaching between your legs, rubbing your hand desperately against your cunt, through the fabric of your jeans. The pressure wasn’t nearly enough and you growled in frustration, fumbling with the button and forcing your hand inside your underwear.

That first touch against your clit felt like heaven - it was nearly more than you could handle as you continued to suck Larissa’s clit. You gathered your wetness on your fingers, smearing it eagerly over your sensitive bundle of nerves and moaning loudly as you matched the pace of your fingers to that of your tongue, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Are you touching yourself?” Larissa’s voice was gravelly and low, and you opened your eyes to find she’d lifted her head to meet your gaze - she looked down at you through hooded eyes, her cheeks gorgeously flushed.

“Mmmh, yeah,” you mumbled, not bothering to stop sucking her clit as you replied. Larissa’s eyes nearly rolled back in her head, and she dropped her head back against the armrest again with a mumbled “fuck”.

Your desire was building more by the second and you could tell that Larissa was close, too, as her thighs began to tremble and the rolling of her hips became somewhat erratic.

“You close?” you murmured breathily, just loud enough for Larissa to hear.

“Y-yes - ah - ‘mm close…”

“Cum with me?” The words had barely left your mouth as you felt your orgasm wash over you, every muscle in your body tightening as you came. You let out a strangled groan and both your tongue and your hands stuttered in their movements, even as you tried desperately to keep a steady pace. Larissa’s orgasm soon followed, a direct response to hearing you cum, her thighs snapping shut around your head as she reached her peak.

Her hands tightened in your hair, holding you firmly in place to keep her riding her high for as long as possible. You only let up when she released your hair from her grip and allowed her thighs to fall to the side. You pulled back slightly, breathing heavily from your own orgasm and trying to calm your pounding heart when you felt Larissa’s fingers grip your chin. You allowed her to guide you up towards her, your lips meeting hers in a heated, passionate kiss.

~~~

Larissa let go of your chin as you kissed, placing her hands on your waist and pulling you snugly against her. Her own heart was hammering away in her chest, her breathing hard and uneven.

“I really needed that,” she said after a few moments, her voice still hoarse and shaky. Your laugh vibrated against her chest, the sound filling her heart with joy.

“Happy to help,” you quipped, causing Larissa to giggle. You propped yourself up above her, reaching behind her neck to take off her necklace and gingerly lay it on the table so that you could rest your head against her chest.

“Mmm, better,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of her cleavage before resting your cheek against her and letting out a contented sigh.

“Will you stay tonight? I don’t want you driving home alone…”

“Yeah, of course. But you know, I don’t think I’d get attacked by a bear from inside my car or anything.”

Larissa’s stomach churned uncomfortably. She didn’t know how much longer she could continue lying to you about the monster roaming Jericho’s woods - she didn’t want to lie to you, after all. But fear held her back - the fear that your acceptance of her and her world, of outcasts, wasn’t as all-encompassing as she’d like to believe. The fear that, once you found out that it was an outcast - a hyde - responsible for the attacks, for the many deaths, you’d never look at her the same way again. That you’d see her as dangerous. She swallowed thickly.

“I don’t care. I can’t risk anything happening to you - I was worried sick tonight. I don’t want you out in this area alone at night.”

“Okay, okay. I promise, I’ll stay the night and I won’t go out on my own.” You raised your arm to give her a mock salute, trying to lighten the mood.

Larissa let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. As you nuzzled your cheek against her chest, she felt both an overwhelming sense of relief and a gnawing sense of guilt. Her arms tightened around you and she sighed into your hair, squeezing her eyes shut to stop a single tear from sliding down her cheek.

Taglist: @littledollll @nlr-33 @mysaviorfalsegod @imlike-so-gaydude @rainbow-hedgehog @enchantressb @alder-saan @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @amateurwritescm @brienneswife @principal-weems09 @messynessi @larissaoftarthweems @anti-bright-places @lvinhs @catechristiesstuff @ladyzmilf002 @milfsloverblog @opheliauniverse @orangeisnttheonlyfruit @im-a-carnivorous-plant @alexusonfire @bigolgay @kimiinou @wastdstime @scream-queenlover @imprincipalweemspet @justcallmelittleone @willowshadenox @milfsloverblog @leftoverenvy @yahaqueen @peggycarter3 @lilfartbox1 @makemyworldworthliving @crow-raven-crow @mosscoveredcrucifix @opalthefrog @barbarasstar

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#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #lipstick stains #lipstick stains series

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erospandemos · 7 months

Text

Night-time Getaway

Saerom x Male Reader

Length: 3.1k

A little gift for my friend Vidro.

You take Saerom on an impromptu date to distract her from her stress and the night ends better than expected.

The wind of a late autumn night was perfectly chilly, just enough to feel the breeze caress the skin without needing more than a hoodie. The street was completely quiet. If you were to listen carefully, maybe you might have noticed the buzzing of the street lamps and the few shop signs that were left turned on. The colours warm up your eyes, it’s the pumpkin orange that you see in every store and café at this time of the month, and you can see it even at night through the lights.

You take your usual route to the park through the only unlit side of the meadow. Although you can barely make out anything, you’ve memorized all the necessary steps so you have nothing to worry about.

You can see a figure on the hill, her familiar silhouette is illuminated by the moonlight. She was dancing and humming a song, without much emphasis, just softly outlining the moves. You can already feel yourself smiling before you even get to see her smile while walking towards her.

You stop to listen to her, to watch her dance. It’s a lucky opportunity, you don’t usually get to see her ‘perform’. She was just in the middle of moving her hair when she heard your steps. You curse yourself for ruining the moment and she curses herself for not hearing you sooner. She stands still for a moment, with her flatly embarrassed smile, and tries to cover her face with her hair. She grabs a handful of the strands and looks away, concealing every inch of her skin.

“Sorry, Saerom, I didn’t mean to stop you…” you say, chuckling at her cute behavior.

“How long were you there for?” she mutters, still keeping her face covered. You can barely hear her words.

“I just got here. Well, you were dancing so well, I just couldn’t help but… look at you.”

“What’s wrong with you…?” Saerom whines and nervously paces around, making circles in the grass. You can hear her smile in how she talked, the fluster in her voice was so irresistibly cute. Her eyes flicker back and forth, between you and the ground.

You chuckle and make your way to her side. You pat her shoulder and sit down on the ground. Saerom takes a seat too, slowly unraveling herself from the hair.

“New choreo?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Was it yesterday or…?”

“Today. She showed it to me to teach me to have more groove,” Saerom says. She looks away to the city and can only find the blue sky cut by the black shape of the buildings. This park was her favorite escape, a place she could go to whenever she needed, whenever she wanted. And in this place, she’d always find her favorite person, to whom she could confine any thought or worry.

“Are you having a hard time?”

“It is… a little challenging, I’d say. It’s not very immediate—the groove—it’s really about feeling and I can’t really observe it.” Saerom is playing with the hem of her shirt. She is the type of person to get nervous and worried quite easily. The thought of being left behind was something that always haunted her even though her skills were already at an excellent level. You could call her a perfectionist.

She lets out a long sigh. “Will I ever get it right?”

“A lot of idols still don’t have it and they have been dancing for years. You’re doing fine, Saerom. You’re just fine-tuning small things now. You will figure it out.”

“I hope so…”

“By the way,” you change the topic, “Are all the members sleeping already?”

“Ah, the kids,” that’s how she called her members, having to constantly take care of them. “Yeah, they’re already tucked in their beds.”

“Well, done, Mom.”

“Yah!” Saerom slaps your arm and pushes you, to which you roll on the grass. “Didn’t I tell you already to quit calling me that? It makes me feel really old.”

“Oh come on, it’s basically what you’re doing, you shouldn’t feel offended. You’re just really good at being a mom.”

“I’ll punch you.”

“Sorry, captain.”

“That’s more like it.”

There’s a second of comfortable silence between you two. You take the time to stretch and she yawns. The wind howls and the strands of grass stand up in unison. Saerom’s skin shivers, she tries to make herself smaller, clinching her legs together, and hugging her chest, and you can see goosebumps on her arms. You give her your jacket, it wasn’t as thick but at least she wouldn’t have to wake up the next day with a cold.

Saerom turns with a surprised expression when you put it on your shoulders. Her big eyes as round as her lips, mouthing an ‘oh’. She offers you a grateful smile and slips her arms into the sleeves, snuggling into the oversized jacket.

She almost looks like your girlfriend. Almost.

“I know I’ve talked about myself for a while but how about you? Have you been resting? Like how the coach told you—how everyone told you?” Saerom asks you not in a curious way but with more of a scolding tone.

You chuckle and rub your head. She already asked you this question before and you already gave her the same answer that you were going to give her now: “Uhm, actually no.” You couldn’t lie to her, she would’ve taken the truth out of you in five minutes or less.

“I already told you! You rascal!” Saerom pushes you with her shoulder. “You’re gonna faint or something.”

“I know, I know…” you say. “But I just can’t stay still, I have to keep myself busy.” You turn around to see if Saerom is being even a little understanding but you can only see her furrowed eyebrows on her stare of disappointment. “Well, actually,” you point your index at her, “Shouldn’t you also be resting?”

“Me?!”

“Yeah, you. Didn’t you sprain your ankle a couple of days ago?” you ask with a big smug plastered on your face.

“W-well, my coach wouldn’t have taught me the new choreo if the injury was that serious right? I think I’m perfectly fine.”

“Did she know about the ankle?”

“No…”

“See?!”

“Besides, it doesn’t even hurt anymore!” Saerom tells you. “You were the one taping it for me. It doesn’t hurt a single bit.”

“Whatever you say…”

You both giggle. If you wanted to, both of you could come up with endless excuses all night long without getting tired. It was helpless, you knew it.

Saerom sighs for the second time this night. “It’s been kinda hectic these days, hasn’t it?”

You hum.

“It’s just that a lot has been happening all at once. I need a break.”

You think for a moment and get an idea. There was a bowling alley 5 minutes from the park. It wasn’t the best place—just a cheap option for kids that want to skip school or just a good stop to have a chat. But it opened very late and it’d be a good place to pay a visit right now.

“Hey, wanna go to the bowling?”

“What? Bowling?”

“Yeah, the one near the ice cream shop, it’s pretty close.”

“But I don’t have any money on me—”

“I’m gonna pay for your ticket, don’t worry. Consider it a gift.”

“Oh, w-well thank you…” Saerom can barely speak that you have already stood up and taken your hand. You give her a quick “let’s go” and guide her to the place. She follows you without complaint. You take confident and quick steps but have to slow down to match Saerom’s pace. You walk by her side and listen to her rambling about her days.

Saerom’s beauty under the contrasting lights of the moon and the street lights looks artificial. You often space out, just observing her eyes, angular and mesmerizing—they’re so captivating and expressive that you can make out whatever she was saying by just observing the movement of her eyelids. Her smooth skin beautifully glow and you simply can’t look away.

She catches you looking more than once. Saerom would turn around, see your enchanted gaze, understand that it was because of her, and then hide her embarrassed smile away. After a while, she’d forget that happened, talk again, turn around again, and it’d happen again.

You arrive at the bowling alley later than you should have because you wanted to hear more of her voice and she wanted to be beside you as much as possible.

The dimly lit, retro-themed bowling alley was bathed in a nostalgic glow. Neon lights flickered, casting multicolored shadows on the vintage arcade games lining the walls. The place has been opened for a very long time, it wasn’t ‘vintage before’, maybe just a little nostalgic but with time, it gained that new adjective.

You pay for the tickets, and go to the lanes.

“You know, I’ve never been any good at bowling,” Saerom confesses as she sets her uncertain hands on the bowling balls. “I tried it only once or twice when I was younger.”

“It will be fine. I don’t think it’s difficult.” “You don’t think?" Saerom asks you. “Have you played this before?”

“Well…,” you start, stressing the syllable, “does Mii Sport count?”

Saerom laughs. You love how organic and sincere her laughter is. It’s uncomposed, a bunch of hiccups of air messily stacked together, bouncing between high yelps and low giggles. It’s because you don’t judge her and because she doesn’t have to act as if there was a camera or microphone recording her.

“I swear I was the absolute best at it,” you laugh. “I always strike.”

“Yeah, and I bet all the miis were cheering for you right?” Saerom jokes.

“Exactly. Exactly. It was standing ovations all night.”

You each select a bowling ball. Saerom already knows how to put the fingers in the holes and has to spend a couple of seconds showing you how to hold the ball.

She’s the first one to throw. She positions herself with her left hand extended in front. She takes small steps as she aims for the foul line. She backswings the ball behind her and releases the ball smoothly. She keeps her eyes on the target pin, the ball spins and spins until it reaches the right side and knocks down half of the pins.

She turns around with a surprised smile, her lips half closed. “That wasn’t half bad.”

“No, it was good. It was good.”

The machine clicks and springs as it puts back each and every pin.

“Now, it’s my turn.” You aim for the center pin and mimic Saerom’s movements. You throw the ball, it spins a little, and it ends up in the corner, hitting nothing.

Saerom chuckles.

“You really lost your touch huh?”

“I—the oil made me slip, yeah the oil. It happens all the time.”

Saerom stops her laughter to raise an eyebrow at your ridiculous remarks. She points an accusing finger at you. “First of all, the oil is only on the lanes, there was no way, you could have slipped here. Second, you don’t even play bowling. You’re a liar.”

“We—well, it—I’m just not a regular player.”

“You don’t play at all.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” you say and shrug your shoulders. “Besides, that was just a warm-up. Your turn now.”

Saerom picks up her ball, taking her time to line up her shot. You were convinced she must have played it way more than just ‘once or twice’ when she was young. By the way she was moving, it was like she already developed her style, with a small hop before releasing the ball. It rolls gracefully down the lane and strucks the pins with precision. And… a perfect strike. Were you even surprised at that point?

The crash of the pins echoes through the alley, and Saerom raises her arms in triumph. “Did you see that? You saw that, right?”

You applaud her, genuinely impressed. The lonely sounds of your clapping and her high-pitched screams bounce around the walls of the alley. Only accompanied by the mechanical sound of the re-pinning machines. “Okay, okay, I understand now,” you say.

The game continues, and you two go back and forth between her impressive throws and your miserable attempts.

You go again, your eyes locked on the pins. You had to take down at least half. Or a fourth. At least. You release the ball with precision and it sails down the lane, knocking down all but one pin. You clench your fist as you hear Saerom’s excited clapping.

Saerom steps up for her final turn, her heart pounding with excitement. She knows that she needs a strike to win. She takes a deep breath, focuses on the pins, and sends the ball down the lane with all her might. Your and her eyes follow the ball, all the way down. It hits the pocket perfectly, knocking all of them down.

She jumps for joy, her victory assured.

You exchange high-fives and congratulate her. Usually in movies and shows, it’d be the guy that had to fake his lack of skills to make the girl win. Saerom, however, did it all herself.

“So what did I win?” she asks, her voice trembling from the rapid breaths she takes, the excitement still running in her veins.

“I already paid your ticket, come on.”

“Alright, you’re right. Let’s say I won my ticket.”

You were turning to leave with Saerom but as you moved, your head cast a shadow against the strong light of the two arcade machines in the corner, creating a stunning silhouette that glowed with a warm, golden hue.

Saerom's smile gradually fades, her gaze fixed on you. She watches as a radiant halo seemed to envelop you, and the time around her slow down. Saerom observes your eyes connecting with hers, a broad grin on your lips that sent a nervous flutter through her.

Unexpectedly, her shoe slipped. It should have been a minor mishap, but Saerom's mind was too preoccupied with the image of you in this new light. She stumbles forward with a force that might have left her with a bloody nose if it weren't for your swift reflexes.

In a matter of seconds, you were right in front of her, both arms securely around her waist, preventing her from taking a tumble. Well, at least preventing most of it.

Saerom's chin rests against your shoulder as she caught her breath, her hands gripping your biceps tightly. Your fragrance envelopes her senses, and she can't help but become acutely aware of how her body was pressed against yours.

You gently pull back to meet her eyes, raising a hand to sweep the stray, disheveled strands of hair behind Saerom's ear. "Hey, are you okay?"

A blush creeps up Saerom's cheeks, and the touch of your fingers against her skin sends a shiver down her spine. The breath seems to escape her lungs as she lifts her head, bringing her nose tantalizingly close to yours.

For a moment, there was silence, a moment where your eyes locked onto hers, and Saerom could hear the sound of her own heartbeat.

"Yeah, never been better," she finally manages to reply, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

It might have been the third time this week she found herself enchanted by your image. She has lived long enough to understand that the cause of all of this was her heart. It was your fault.

As you walked her back to her dorm, she kept stealing glances at you. Maybe this was the right occasion, in the silence of the night, with no witnesses.

“Hey,” Saerom calls your attention.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for today.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.”

“And thank you for always,” she says. “You always take care of me, even for the stupidest things.”

“You do the same with me Saerom,” you chuckle. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d always skip lunch. You cook for me almost every week. You might as well become a cook.”

She laughs and turns her eyes down. When she raises her head again, you see that there’s more in her eyes, she wasn’t just thanking you.

The way you look at her feels like a magnetic pull, like a strong current drawing her in. When your fingers brush against her, it's as if all the barriers she's put up are suddenly crumbling. She can’t look at you in the eyes and she hugs you. "I think I'm starting to have feelings for you," she blurts out, and you react with wide-eyed surprise.

You stand there, stunned for a moment, your grip on her waist loosening slightly as you stammer, "I, um, what?"

Saerom just shrugs and bites her lip, avoiding eye contact. "I've never felt like this when I'm with anyone else. It's kind of frustrating."

Your response has a hint of shyness for the first time. "But I wouldn't want it any other way."

Taking a shaky breath, you let her words sink in. Despite all the playful flirting, you've never let yourself hope that she might feel the same way you do. Saerom has always been guarded, keeping her emotions locked away, and you're happy just being her friend. Even though your heart secretly wants more, that friendship is enough.

“I can truly be myself around you and… it’s so liberating. Whether I have a bad day or a good one, I just want to see you.”

With your bodies pressed close, you suddenly become hyper-aware of the situation. You notice how tightly she's holding onto you, how close your faces are. Maybe you aren't just friends after all.

It's only when a long silence hangs in the air that Saerom shakes her head and says, "Just forget I said anything."

Instinctively, you reach out and hold onto her hand as she tries to pull away. "I feel the same way."

Her eyes meet yours, searching for any sign of dishonesty, and you can see a different kind of vulnerability in her gaze, a hope for love mixed with fear of rejection.

"I really do," you say in a hushed tone, gently tracing her cheek with your hand, giving her a chance to pull away. When your touch meets her skin, her eyes close in a moment of sheer happiness, and she leans into your hand. It’s reassuring.

“Sorry, this isn’t exactly romantic, for you to confess to me in this wet street…”

“What are you saying, silly? I don’t care about that.” Saerom whispers, her words carrying a weight of genuine affection.

Saerom gave you a peck on the cheek, just to seal the deal. She was still very shy.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

You wave at her, with sluggish movements caused by your momentary awkwardness and embarrassment. She exchanges a small wave and enters the dorm. You can hear her shoes rapidly step on the stairs, she was running. You let out the sigh you’ve been holding on until now and make your way back home. Maybe you’ll rest. So Saerom doesn’t get mad at you.

THE END

Written, 31 October 2023 - 02 November 2023

#saerom #fromis 9 saerom #fromis 9 #fromis 9 fluff #saerom fluff #kpop fluff

274 notes · View notes

meiluu · 5 months

Text

Tis' The Season

Peter Parker one-shot

Peter Parker/ Female Reader can be any peter :) cw: SMUT 18+ MDNI, this is basically pure filth that came to me in a dream and i had to write it, mating season *wink*, breeding kink, creampie, feral and protective peter.

*not edited*

peter pov.

When Peter got bit by that radioactive spider, then waking up in a new body, being able to do what he thought was impossible. He thought that he would be the only one in the world who was like him. But as the universe would have it, there was another.

It had been a rather uneventful day of swinging around New York, catching would-be robbers or the occasional purse snatcher, when he had decided to take a different route back to his apartment. He didn't know why his body acted on its own accord- almost like it was possessed and on a mission. Slowing down his pace, quietly landing on the roof of a building his eyes locked onto a girl. She was carrying a couple of boxes into what Peter assumes is her new apartment. But the moment he's able to get a full look at her his spider senses are buzzing, electricity shooting down his back.

This was a wholly new sensation, whenever his senses went off it usually indicated danger and sent his blood rushing as his body pumped adrenaline into his veins. but this- it was like a melody, a soft tune that lulled his body into a state of comfort and familiarity. It was like his body was telling him to go to her. Though embarrassingly enough Peter had been gawking at her and with his senses singing around him it was almost like they sent a message to her because in a quick motion she was looking out the window and towards peter. Thankfully enough Peter was quick enough to duck down, getting cover from the edge of the roof, shielding himself from her view. A huff left his lips, god what is wrong with me?, a multitude of thoughts ran through his head a majority of them shaming Peter for being a creep. Although a small portion of those thoughts were relishing in what they had just witnessed, She was so beautiful...

With that little encounter Peter was quick to head home, hoping to forget the weird experience.

It was a few months later that Peter would eventually meet her again. Throughout those months Peter would always feel that same soft and comfortable feeling in the back of his mind, like she was always near him. Come to find out she had actually been following Spider-Man, but it proved more than difficult to follow the superhero. She had been essentially guessing on where he would possibly show up, hoping to get lucky and catch a chance to talk to him. Whenever y/n moved into her new apartment she had mainly locked herself up, given the drastic and terrifying changes her body was undergoing, she never got the chance to turn on her t.v. But when she did, a surge of hope blossomed within her chest. Spider-Man was the source of that hope. After doing a bit of investigating she was able to uncover that he was someone like her, maybe not bitten like her but he showcased all the things that were happening to her. And so she made it her mission to talk to him- and to hopefully find out more about herself, and to maybe make a friend along the way.

And that day finally came, after spending a couple of hours on the roof of a building where Spider-Man frequented- there he was, standing right before her. Her senses buzzed in pure happiness, and his senses were singing to him. "Hey." Peter was breathless, lost in the feeling that was coursing through him and it didn't help that she was absolutely angelic looking as the sun casted a golden glow upon her skin. "Hi." a timid voice was all she could muster, all her words becoming stuck within her throat.

And from that day onwards they become each other's salvation. Finally after coming to the conclusion that Peter would be the only one that was like him, it was a very welcomed surprise to find someone who was just like him. Your relationship started off slowly, as you both got to understand how you both were changed- answering one another questions. you both moved onto asking questions like, "Which star wars movie is your favorite?", "what’s your favorite place to get pizza?". Then one day it was, "Can I show you who I am?".

The day that Peter took off his mask was a day neither of you would forget. That day Peter felt a weight be lifted from his shoulders, no longer held back by the barrier that the mask created he could finally be with you as Peter parker.

Slowly lifting the mask from his face, his eyes locking onto yours. Your face split into a smile so big your cheeks had started to hurt. His brown locks were messy from being underneath the mask- and he was so handsome, you were utterly lost in his visage. Peter had been slowly inching his way towards you, getting close enough to catch onto your familiar scent and warmth. Looking down at you Peter raised his free hand, gently cupping your cheek. "Can I kiss you?" his voice was nothing but whisper meant only for you. "Yes, please." your cheeks where dusted in a rosy blush, and with such care Peter leaned down enveloping your lips with his. Dropping his mask, he now has both hands cupping your face like you were made of porcelain glass. Sweet and soft lips, dance together- you lips tasting like your favorite lip-gloss. Gathering up the courage Peter tentatively bites your bottom lip, asking so sweetly for entrance. Opening your mouth your flooded by the undeniable taste of him. Unashamedly you'll admit that you and Peter spent the better part of that day making out, until the sun set behind the horizon, and only then did you both finally separate from each others embrace. And from that your relationship reached a whole new level, trust within each other bloomed and with that came love, an unfathomable amount of love for one another.

—

You and Peter had been together for a little over a year now, your bond with one another growing with each passing day- and with that growth came a new discovery. After being together for an extended amount of time your senses along with Peter's had become attuned with one another's. You could feel Peter's presence from halfway across the city, and that went for Peter as well. He would catch himself periodically checking up on you while he was swinging throughout the city. And no matter where he was he would always find his way to you, with your senses always calling out to him.

Peter had woken up this morning, turning on his side and seeing you buried within the sheets of his bed, heart swelling at the sweet sight. And like any morning he had, he got up to start his routine but something was off. His senses felt like they were in hypervigilance, with this looming feeling that he needed to secure his apartment, hairs raising and goosebumps erupting across his skin. Peter had quickly thrown on his suit and started patrolling the area around his apartment. Although Peter didn't understand why he had this need, seeing as his apartment was well protected by the many gadgets he had implemented, as well as it being high above the city in a nice area. But he followed his instincts, seeing as they have never proved him wrong before… and it wasn’t like he could ignore them. So he spent the next few hours making sure that there were no threats around his home. And like a timer going off his body completely switched its motion, senses now wholly focused on you. He needed to get home now. Quickly maneuvering through an open window, landing softly on his feet, his mind and body on a one track mission on finding you. Giving into his senses he allows his body to guide him to you.

Opening the door to his bedroom, he is immediately hit with your mouth watering scent permeating throughout the room. And with his eyes zeroing in on you he sees you webbing- his mind pauses at what he is seeing, how can you be webbing anything without his web cartridges'? Then he’s whipping his head down to his own wrists seeing how he never reloaded his web-shooters before he left this morning. How did he not notice that he was producing organic webs? But before he was able to begin his theories his mind had begun to solely focus on you, your scent and watching as you made some sort of nest. The nest so far consisted of your duvet cover, pillows, and was all being held up by your webs. A part of him wants to go up to you but the more instinctual part of him tells him to wait, telling him that what you are doing is very important and you needed all your focus upon what you were doing.

With one last pillow, Peter's senses buzz with your call- you were using your senses to communicate with him. Your hair was still untamed from sleeping all night, but you looked so beautiful right at this moment. Sitting perched in your nest eyes full of love as your senses begged Peter to come to you. And in a swift movement Peter is jumping and latching onto the ceiling crawling his way towards you. Reaching you, Peter envelopes you within his strong embrace, burying his head within the crook of your neck. mumbles of 'I love you.', 'So pretty.' , 'Smell so good.' tumble from Peters lips. You sigh at the praise, reciprocating his love tenfold.

Through the soft kisses that Peter litters across your face, reaching your mouth his tongue dives in dancing with yours. The heat within him grows. A need so strong it has him whimpering into your mouth- and it seems you are on the same page. Hurriedly discarding each other's clothes, a wave of relief floods through him, finally feeling your bare skin. "Baby-Fuck." Peter groans as his fingers get a feel of how wet you are. A needy whimper leaves your slightly swollen lips, "Peter...please, I need you so bad." Peter's entire body tenses up at your words, a near-growl rumbling from within his chest echoes around you two. Spreading your legs, giving Peter an open invitation to fuck you, and he accepts it without hesitation. Lining his aching cock that's dripping pre-cum at your cunt, only a moment later is Peter sinking into you. Satisfied noises of pleasure leave the both of you, pushing to the hilt- hips flushed with one another. Peter is leaning over, his face over yours, and his arms are snugly wrapped around your body.

Grinding his cock further into you, eyes rolling back at the feel of your walls trying to suck him in further. Another whimper of Peter's name has him losing all semblance of care as he starts at a rough and fast pace. Your cunt is warm and dripping, and with every harsh thrust of Peter's hips it has your eyes rolling into the back of your head- moans of pleasure being punched out of you with every harsh plunge of his cock. Latching onto his muscular back, trying to keep yourself grounded to him- seeing as it's not enough you twist your head to the side biting down hard into the skin where his shoulder and neck meet. A loud 'Fuck' accompanied with your name tumbles from Peter's lips. Manhandling you, Peter moves your legs to rest upon his shoulders as he latches onto the blanket and pillows around you. Fucking into you with every bit of strength within him, mind and body on the sole mission to mate you and to truly make you his. Your body in tune with his, you are spreading your legs wider as your hands latch onto Peter's backside, trying to communicate with Peter but failing as a messy jumble of words is all you can muster. But thankfully Peter catches onto your message, sliding his hand down to your backside he tilts your hips upwards towards him. Allowing him to reach so deep into you, you swear you could feel him within your throat. Thrust after thrust, you feel yourself reaching closer to euphoria, thighs quivering in anticipation as your cunt continues to dribble its arousal around Peters pistoning cock. Leaving one side of Peter's backside you snake your free hand to your clit. Rubbing hasty circles around the bundle of nerves, and not too soon later you're cumming. Cunt rhythmically squeezing around Peter's cock, begging it to fill you. A moan tumbles from Peter's lips as he feels your walls tighten around him, feeling hot pleasure roll down his back before he feels himself cumming into you. Sloppy thrusts of Peter riding out both of your highs slowly come to a stop. Breathless and flushed in residual pleasure you both gently turn to your sides, making sure to stay connected as you both come down from your highs. Exhaustion is quick to take you both, wrapped in each other's embrace, still connected as one.

Peter doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes, all he knows is that he needs you and you need him. Maneuvering you onto your hands and knees, sinking into you. A pleasure filled moan falls from your lips, jutting your hips up giving Peter a better angle to fuck you deeper. Hips pistoning into you, latching onto the blankets around you trying to keep yourself steady with Peter's brutal thrusts. Unhappy with how far apart you are Peter is leaning forward, front to your back. Face right next to your ear. Your mind is soon flooded with the sounds of Peter's pleasure. A moan leaves you as Peter bites down onto your shoulder, and brings one of his hands to your clit. Swirling his fingers around your bundle of nerves, your body is quick to go pliant under him. Letting him fuck and fill you to his content, your body sings in happiness when you cum around his cock and Peter is soon to follow in your lead. Warmth pools within your belly, a content smile takes over your face. And with that you are snuggling deeper into your nest, falling back asleep.

Peter huffs out a breath, slowly removing himself from your cunt. His mind is the most clear it’s been since the last time he was awake. Making sure you are secure in your bundle of blankets, Peter quietly descends from your nest, putting on a pair of sweats. Now Peters mind is trying to figure out how long you’ve both been in your nest, doing nothing else but fucking. In the haze of his memories he sees that he would periodically leave the nest to get you both feed, would fuck again and then fall asleep with you. Peter heads over to his phone, quickly doing mental math…and shit he’s been with you for nearly 5 days! But before he can stress about that fact, his senses are going into overdrive.

Someone was coming to his door. Thankfully the apartment was dark, with the only illumination being from the full moon seeping in through the curtains. Peter is jumping to the ceiling, a whirlwind of protectiveness and anger swirling within his chest. Then he hears the front door open. Using the shadows to his advantage, Peter is quietly crawling into the living room. His mind is flooding with all the ways he could kill the intruder. Looking down from the ceiling he can make out a couple of figures, voices merging together. Readying his arm, waiting until…Now! With fast and precise movements he’s webbing the intruders to the adjacent wall, but before he can web up the last intruder his mind is halted by his voice being called out. “Peter! What the hell kid!” Tony’s voice rings through his head. “Jarvis, turn on the lights.” Light floods the living room, and with it Peter is able to see Tony with his hands up in surrender. And to the adjacent wall he sees, Steve, Bucky and Sam webbed to the wall. Mind reeling at what he sees, shame floods through his body. He was going to kill them! What is wrong with him…”Kid, you need to calm down- or you're going to pass out.” Tony's voice is soothing, and with that Peters is able to realize he’s been hyperventilating. Slowly calming his breathing, he lowers his arm backing away from Tony. “What, what are you doing here?” Peter's voice is barely above a whisper. A concerned look crosses Tony’s face, “Kid you’ve been M.I.A for 5 days, we were getting worried when you didn’t respond to us.” Peter's body is slowly relaxing, “I- I’m sorry, I’ve been…busy.” Cringing internally at the word ‘busy’. “Kid, you're gonna have to give me more than just ‘busy’. We haven’t seen you in 5 days, no sight of you swinging around New York. Thank god you have Jarvis installed, because without him we wouldn’t even know if you were alive.”

Peter's gut churns, shame and guilt swirling within him. “Can I come by the tower tomorrow, then I can explain everything.” Tony has a sympathetic look upon his face, “Peter-“ Peter soon stops listening to him when he feels his senses buzz, you are awake and you're terrified. Worried that Peter wasn’t there when you awoke to what sounded like a fight going on in the living room. Whipping his head to the bedroom, he tries to communicate that you needed to stay in the bedroom. Then in the corner of his eye he sees Tony moving towards him- getting closer to you. “No! Stay back, don’t take another step.” Shock mars Tony’s features, Peter had growled out his words. They were nothing short of a command, his face was painted in anger and fierce protectiveness. Arms ready to web him to the wall. “Kid! I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I know that but I can’t let you get closer to her, you guys need to leave. Please..” Tony takes a moment before nodding his hand and then makes his way to the others that have been stuck to the wall this entire time. Quickly cutting them free, Peter watches as they eventually leave, now his body can finally truly relax. Shoulders slumping in relief. But that relief is short lived with the weight of what he was supposed to do now.

How in the world was he going to explain this Tony and to you now that you’re awake?!

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chuulyssa · 3 months

Text

kidnapped. (mello)

↷ A/N ─ my first time writing actual smut please give constructive criticism or i'll cry bye. just to confirm btw this is NOT rape/non-con. the reader consents. thank you.

★ COUNT ─ 2.5k

!! TAGS ─ f!reader, kidnapping, yandere!mello, smut, dry-humping, oral sex (m & f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, praise kink, nicknames (good girl, pretty boy, etc.), floor-fucking, a little cockwarming at the end

★ PROLOGUE ─ your ex kidnaps you because you are a useful asset to kira. or does he have a different reason?

SMUT, 18+, MDNI

You struggled against the tight ropes that bound you. Your mouth was covered with a thick layer of duct tape, your eyes blindfolded so you were enveloped in darkness. Your back hurt, and you realized you had been tied to a chair all along.

Suddenly, you felt the blindfold gently untie itself from around your hair, and you opened your eyes meekly. It took a while for them to adjust themselves to the brightness of the place. You surveyed the room cautiously. The details gradually came into focus, revealing a dimly lit, unfamiliar space with bare walls and a single, flickering light bulb overhead. The air was heavy with an unsettling silence, broken only by distant, muffled sounds of breathing from behind you.

You strained against the ropes again, trying to free yourself from the chair, but to no avail. You panicked, trying to recall how you ended up here. But your memories were hazy, and you couldn't think of anything, especially with the sharp pains of your aching head.

The person behind you moved into your line of sight. With a quick motion, they removed the duct tape from your mouth, causing you to wince at the uncomfortable tingling sensation.

"Easy there," a familiar voice said.

You had heard this person speak before. But where? Your mind ran through all the voices you had ever heard in your entire lifetime - your parents, your teachers, Kira. You blinked slowly, your eyes beginning to register your vision. With a jolt, you realized who the person in front of you was.

"Mello?" you said in disbelief, your voice hoarse from not speaking for a long time.

"Quiet, honey," he whispered and crouched down to be at eye-level with you, his expression revealing neither malice nor sympathy.

"Why am I here?" you demanded. The throbbing pain in your head intensified from this new revelation, your eyes darting around to check for any possible escape routes - doors, windows, anything.

"Who is Kira?" Mello caressed your lips, soothing the tingling left by the duct tape.

"Kira?" you blinked. "I don't know. I'm in the Task Fo-"

"Shut up."

Mello's harsh command silenced you, and you felt a surge of fear. His grip on your chin tightened, his eyes narrowing as if reading your mind, boring into your soul.

"Listen, here, sweet pea," he said coldly, "we just need you to confess that Light Yagami is Kira. Then you will be fine."

"Light Yagami?" you tried not to show the panic you felt on your face. "The chief's son?"

"Y/N, please," Mello said sternly, getting up to pace around the room, circling you. "I know you're connected to Kira. I know Light Yagami is Kira. You have been helping Kira and you cannot fool me."

"I need information," he continued, stopping in front of you once more. "And you're going to give it to me. One way or another."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you insisted, your voice shaky. "I'm not connected to Kira. I'm a part of the Task Force, and I'm doing all I can to stop him!"

Mello scoffed. "Save the lies for someone who might believe them. I've been tracking Kira for a while, and your involvement doesn't go unnoticed."

"I can't give you information I don't have," you pleaded, desperation creeping into your voice. "I'm innocent, Mello. Please, let me go."

"'Please, let me go'?" he repeated mockingly. "'I'm innocent'? Do you know who you're trying to lie to right now?"

"Please, Mello, I'll do anything. Let me go," you begged him.

"Anything?" Mello bent down to you once more. "Anything?"

"Yes, Mello, anything."

"Strip."

You stared. What?

"Strip?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, hoping against hope that you had misheard him.

Mello's expression remained impassive, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your skin crawl.

"You heard me," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Strip."

He leaned forward and tore the ropes with a pocketknife, starting with your legs and then moving to your hands.

"Mello-"

"Y/N. I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong," he sighed. "I just don't want hidden trackers exposing your location."

His expression softened slightly, and he seemed more... human. But it was quickly replaced by an unfathomable expression once more, looking at you with expectancy.

You rubbed your now free wrists, still sore from the tight bindings, and looked at Mello with a mixture of gratitude and unease.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "I... I thought-."

"Strip, Y/N. I don't have all day."

Mello's insistence snapped you back to reality. Despite his explanation, his order made you feel uncomfortable. But you knew that compliance was your best chance at survival right now.

With trembling hands, you unbuttoned your blouse, slowly, as if hoping Mello would ask you to stop. You removed the blouse, and moved on to your jeans, unzipping them and pulling them down, letting them fall to the floor. Now you were left in your bra and panties, and he stiffened at the sight but did not look away.

You moved to your bra, unhooking it, suddenly feeling a bit confident as you maintained eye contact with your ex-boyfriend. You sensually let it hang around your breasts, before pulling it down completely. Similarly, you raised your hips a little to take your panties off, gliding them off your legs and near Mello.

Mello, on the other hand, grew increasingly nervous. He was still looking directly into your eyes as if daring you to make him look at your exposed chest and pussy.

"There you go," you said. "You can check all you want."

Mello nodded, his nervousness dissolving as he adamantly checked your clothes, finding nothing there. You, however, smirked a little to yourself. When Mello finished checking your clothes, he turned to you, but you surprised him by putting your bare feet on his growing bulge, rubbing it up and down slowly.

"Still so hard for me, Mihael Keehl?" you cooed.

"No, shut-" he began, but was immediately cut off by a kiss.

He was still sitting on the floor in front of you, his mind and body going numb from the pressure on his lips. You leaned in more, your legs giving in (from their lack of use), making you fall on his lap, your pussy sitting directly on his hard crotch.

You rubbed yourself against his crotch as you continued the kiss, pussy getting wet imagining how long his dick would be by now. Mello all of a sudden seemed to have woken up from a slumber, and he showed this by kissing you back as roughly as he could.

"Gosh, Y/N. I - fucking - missed you - so much," he said between sloppy kisses, wrapping his arms around your waist and laying you down on the floor as gently as he could. He increased the pace of his dick and your pussy rubbing, groaning as he unbuckled his belt and pull both his pants and boxers down in one go.

His dick sprang out and you immediately got up to give it a little kiss, making him shudder. You slowly shoved him backwards so he lay down, giving you easy access to his dick. You looked down at him. So vulnerable. So needy. So long and hard. Just for you.

You bent down and licked the tip of his dick, his hips springing upward, begging for more. You forced him to continue lying down, teasing him with small licks and kisses at the tip.

"Y/N, please," he groaned. "It's hurting, please."

"So good at begging, aren't you?" You sucked on his dick and he moaned in pleasure.

"Ah, Y/N, fuck, yes."

You sucked and licked his dick, top to bottom, your tongue working as you kept circling it. Your head bobbed on his dick, and your pleasure lay in his continuous moaning. Your hand pumped his dick a few times, soon replaced by your tongue, and you continued the process over and over.

"Y/N, yes, yes, fuck, I'm going to come."

"Do it," you moved your hand faster. "Come for me, pretty boy."

"Oh god, yes, shit, shit," he cursed, soon coming inside your mouth, and you swallowed it, winking at him lightly as he lay on the floor panting, taking more than a few moments to catch his breath.

"My turn," he smirked finally and pushed you down on the floor harshly, a hand behind your head to protect it from injuries.

He kissed your neck, dragging his tongue along your collarbones, then latching onto the hard nipple of your right breast, massaging the other one with a free hand, and soon switching breasts. He continued licking, pinching and kneading your breasts, a few sinful sounds escaping your mouth before he started moving downwards, leaving feathery kisses along the way.

Your breath hitched when you felt the kisses sliding from your inner thighs to your pussy, your hands ready to push his head in further in case he tried to tease you as you did to him. Your fingers groped his hair gently in soft motions, caressing his head and waiting.

He was so close to your pussy, his breath hot against your clit. You closed your eyes in anticipation, waiting for him to eat you out. However, he continued to smirk against your entrance, not moving at all.

"Mello, please," you begged, your voice a little shaky from the earlier blowjob.

"Please what?" He asked, his voice low and husky. You groaned and tried to shove his head in your pussy, but he didn't budge.

"Please, Mello," you whimpered. "Touch me. Please, touch me."

His smirk became wider in response, and he proceeded to give one long stroke of a lick against your clit. You arched your back in surprise and he pushed you down harshly, chuckling and licking you again. His tongue circled your clit before he sucked it into his mouth.

"So wet for me. Such a good girl," he moaned against your skin.

You moaned with pleasure, smiling a little at the praise. He sure knew how to keep you happy even after you two broke up.

Mello continued to lick and suck your clit, suddenly sliding his fingers into you. This caught you by surprise, and both your hands reached out to hold onto his biceps, clinging onto him for dear life while he fucked you with his fingers.

"Good girl, moan for me now, go on," he groaned and licked you again, his fingers moving in and out of you as he sucked on your clit.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, Mello, yes," you cried out, releasing your built-up orgasm and letting it hit you hard with a wave of pleasure.

He continued to overstimulate you, and you felt as if you were gonna pass out with pleasure. His fingers continued pulsing in and out of your tight little pussy, and you felt your inevitable second orgasm approaching quick.

"Mello, shit I'm coming again," you whined, your body shaking as you released all over his fingers again.

Mello's smirk grew, if possible, even wider. He finally removed his fingers from inside of you and licked them, maintaining a seductive eye contact with you all the while. His tongue lapped at your pussy, cleaning up your juices.

"So tasty. All mine."

He kissed your thighs and looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust. You reached out to touch his hair, but he moved away.

"I'm not done with you yet," he said and pumped his hard dick a few times, looking down at you.

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard," he growled, and you gave a tiny, "Yes, please," in response as he pulled your legs apart with his right knee and lined his dick up with your pussy.

You closed your eyes yet again, biting your lip. Even throughout your relationship, whenever the two of you had sex, you wondered if his long, thick cock would even fit inside your tiny pussy.

Mello seemed to have read your mind, for he gave your thigh a little tap as reassurance before pushing into you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You gave a loud cry at the pain, which transformed into a strangled moan as glee filled your body. He pulled out, eyes on yours as if asking if you were okay with this. You nodded slowly, and he wasted no time in thrusting inside again and pulling out in a rhythm, his hands on your hips. He picked up the pace steadily and began moving in and out of you at a rapid speed, fucking you hard.

"Fuck you, Y/N, you're so tight," he growled, arms reaching out to hug you while his hips did the work. Your screams were loud and clear, and while you were probably at the Mafia's base right now, you were sure that none of Mello's men would dare to enter the room.

He grunted, his hips slamming into you, fucking you harder and harder. His dick repeatedly hit your cervix with every thrust, and you felt yourself melt under the satisfaction he made you feel. For god's sake, why did you leave him in the first place? You couldn't remember. Not right now. All that mattered at this moment was his fast and inhumane speed of thrusting and your strangled moans.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he grunted, his hips slamming into you.

You nodded furiously, letting him know he could come inside you any time of the day. Mello groaned loudly and released his cum inside your pussy, still, however, continuing to thrust in it in anticipation of your third orgasm. He continued to fuck you relentlessly, his dick pounding into you as he groaned and moaned himself.

"Mello, no! Shit, I'm gonna come again," you shouted out as you felt your third orgasm in less than an hour advance faster.

"Come, darling," he snarled. "Come all over this dick. Claim this dick, Y/N L/N."

You yelled out as you came once more, your body shaking as he continued to fuck you. He groaned and slowed down his thrusts, his dick still hard inside of you.

"Oh, god, you were so fucking good," he said, collapsing on top of you. "I trained this pussy well, didn't I?"

You gave a breathless chuckle in response, while he continued to keep his dick inside you still, not wanting to let go of the warm sensation of your pussy yet. He kissed your neck, his lips brushing against your skin.

"I still love you, you know that?" he whispered, his voice low and husky.

You smiled slightly, holding onto his muscly back as he lay on top of you with his head in the crook of your neck. You ran a hand through his soft, blonde hair.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your voice soft and gentle.

He blinked in surprise and his face broke into a smile.

"I should've known. Floor-fucking was always your thing."

#mello #mello death note #mello 2024 #mihael keehl #death note x y/n #death note x reader #death note smut #death note x you #death note #mello dn #mello x reader #mello x y/n #mello x you #smut #mello smut

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dancingtotuyo · 6 months

Text

3. pick up your clothes and curl your toes

Woman | Joel Miller

Series Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel settle into a routine.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (Reader is 42, Joel is 56). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: swearing, talks of & references to grief, death (child and spouse), and suicide. Anxiety. Reader has a panic attack. consumption of alcohol. Angst. Hurt. Comfort. SMUT. Explicit sex (P in V). Unprotected sex. Oral Sex (F receiving). Let me know if I missed anything.

Note: THANK YOU TO MY BEAUTIFUL BETA READERS @planet-marz1 @pamasaur & @kajashe

Words: 8926

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND IS INTENDED FOR READERS 18 YEARS AND OLDER. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT OR READ.

Joel Miller is going to hell in a handbasket. He already was, but this is the seal on the envelope, the pretty red ribbon tied neatly around it. He felt relieved that your husband is dead. What kind of person feels relief over someone’s misfortune? Their grief? A bad one. A person headed straight for the gates of hell.

He lets out a huff of air, staring at the spinning ceiling fan. He tries not to think of you across the street, laying in bed in that fucking matching pajama set, but with most things the harder you try not to think of them, the more it’s at the forefront of your mind. The picture of your legs in those shorts jumps to his mind. He remembers those fleeting charged moments from tonight. Desire stirs in his gut drifting downward.

He groans, flipping onto his stomach. He buries his head in the twenty-something-year-old pillow as he takes deep steadying breaths. He won’t do this. It can’t happen. You’re a friend. A connection to the past. A connection to his Sarah. He’s not gonna fuck that up.

He falls asleep definitely not thinking of you and that fucking pajama set. Pictures of you definitely don’t invade his dreams. Joel Miller can only see you as a friend, and friends don’t do the things he does to you behind his eyelids.

The next evening, Joel finds himself hardly waiting on his steps, worried he missed you until you step out tonight in jeans and a sweater. For that, he’s all too grateful. A smile stretches across your face. He stands his lips tipping upward as he meets you in the middle of the road once again.

“Howdy, neighbor,” Joel says.

You push back the small shiver that runs down your spine. You chalk it up to the lower temperatures. “Look at you, adjusting to the Jackson way of life.”

“Learnin from the best, Sweetheart.”

The chills hit again and you chalk it up to the chill. Spring is breaking through, but winter still clings to the darkening air. You settle in your route. The crunch of Joel’s steps is familiar next to you, comforting even in the silence between the two of you.

It’s Joel who speaks first tonight. “It’s weird,” he says. He’s more eager to talk tonight. “Being here- safe. I keep expectin’ raiders to ride in or infected to pop out.” He looks over at a small cluster of trees.

“It takes a long time.” You watch the sun creep down, closing the gap between it and the mountain tops. “I’m not sure when it happened but one morning I just realized I’d stopped looking over my shoulder or listening for footsteps.”

“It happens though?” He asks. You catch a glimmer of hope in his eyes. It barely peeks through the weariness he wears like a badge.

“Eventually.”

“Not that I ever thought it was an option, but I’m not sure I wanted to find peace- to be still like this again.”

You cock your head to the side, but you don’t have to shed a word for him to tell you more.

“Spending life on the run was easy. Always lookin’ toward the next haul, the next run. Didn’t leave any time for thinking.”

You nod. You understand from the other side. You lived alone for years, wild, haunted by your friends, rattling around an empty house with only your thoughts and memories. Somehow, you’d found peace here, a family even.

“What about now?” You ask.

On good days, you can push back the when of it all. When will the world take another person from you in a new way crueler than the last? When will your son’s innocence be stripped away? When will it be you who’s taken? On the bad days, you shut yourself in your room, only to be dragged out by Carter’s small voice or Maria cooking in your kitchen. Today is an especially good day.

Joel studies the horizon. He takes in a hawk riding the air currents. It all mingles together in his chest: the grief, the joy, the pain, the acceptance. It’s hard to put words to it. “It still hurts. Can’t even say it hurts less… but I don’t fight it anymore. I think making room for someone else helped.”

You bite your lip. A pang shoots through your heart. You fight to push the door to your heart closed. You can allow him to exist in your life, but anything more than neighbors is too much. You think you feel the door latch, but you don’t catch Joel’s foot wedged in the door jam.

“How did you and Ellie cross paths?”

Joel spends the rest of your walk recounting his and Ellie’s adventures across the United States. You find yourself hanging on every description. You didn’t travel a lot before the world ended. Your parents had been die-hard Texans. You weren’t sure your dad had left state lines before meeting your mom. There were the yearly trips to your grandparents' house in the mountains surrounding Jackson, one trip to Disney World in 8th grade, and you’d gone to Mexico for spring break your junior year of college. That encapsulated your traveling days.

After Joel tells you about Silver Lake, he stops in his tracks. You look back at him. He’s staring at the darkening horizon again. His eyes gloss over. “When things like that happen- I find myself relieved that she’s not here- that she doesn’t have to go through it- do all the shit we do.”

You suck in a breath. In some ways you understand it. As a parent who willingly brought a child into this world, you often wonder if it was the right choice or just a selfish one. You nod.

“And then I feel guilty all over again. Because I would give anything to have her next to me, and see her smile. I mean, what kind of parent is relieved their child isn’t alive?”

You give the words a minute to roll through your head. You’re not sure of the best words because there really are none, but you pull from your own experience.

“I think that’s the reality of being a parent in this world. You feel guilty if they’re here because the world is fucked up, but you feel guilty if you’re relieved they’re not.”

Joel makes eye contact with you. “Bein’ around you makes me feel closer to her.”

Joel is not sure where the confession comes from. He barely talked to you before last night and hasn’t seen your face in 20 years, yet the words just slip out. Something in him says you’re safe and he thinks maybe, he might just have room for you too. The air between you charges like it did the night before.

It sends a hum of electricity through your veins. It’s one you recognize all too well. It feels good and exciting, the thrum of desire, but it’s dangerous. It’s something you cannot afford. You look away, breaking the connection, but mellowing currents still wrack over your body in waves.

“You raised a really great kid, Joel.” You force a smile. “and the world fucking sucks.” You kick at the dirt as everyone’s faces flash behind your eyes.

“You helped.”

Your head snaps back up, confusion on your brow. “I doubt that.”

“It’s true.” The memories flood to the surface- the ones you forget exist in the depths of your mind drowned by years of survival and trauma. “You helped her with all that stuff I was too awkward to boys, her period, shopping for her 7th grade banquet. I would’ve sent her in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.”

“I don’t think Sarah would’ve let you do that.” You manage a laugh. You appreciate Joel’s attempts to make you feel better even when he’s hurting. There’s a beauty to the way sadness and laughter coexist in the space the two of you create.

Joel shrugs. “I’m just saying, you helped. A lot. Even if you don’t realize it.”

“You should give yourself more credit.”

“So should you,” he says, eyebrows raising.

You fight against the smile that wants to sprout on your face. He’s just as stubborn as you remember and probably more.

As your walk draws to an end, you find yourself searching for anything to draw it out. You watch him walk up his porch steps, desperate to keep him in the street with you but his door shuts before you find the words.

Joel joins you the next night and the night after that, and the night after that it rains. You catch the disappointment, trying to let it go. Carter won’t settle, too intent on watching the rain hit the window. After 30 minutes, you give up, pulling a light sweatshirt over his head.

“You wanna sit out on the porch?”

Carter nods and you kiss his forehead. You see the sleepiness in his eyes, but you don’t have the energy to force him to sleep tonight. He grabs his two toy cars following behind you. You pull the blanket off the couch, opening the front door.

“Oh my god.” You jump, heart rate spiking for a second. Carter runs into the back of your legs, promptly falling to his bottom.

Joel Miller stands in front of you with a sheepish look on his face. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You turn around, picking your toddler off the floor. “You just hanging around on stranger’s porches now?” A grin starts to crowd the edges of your smile.

“I’d hardly call you a stranger, Sweetheart.” Joel grins.

That familiar feeling begins to seep through your chest, making you feel like a college student and not a woman in her 40s. Before it can completely overtake you, you push it down, clearing your throat.

“I don’t think you’ve gotten the chance to meet Carter yet.” You nod toward your son.

Carter waves. “Hi.”

Joel smiles back at him. “Nice to meet you, little man.”

Carter holds out his toy cars for Joel to admire. Joel’s eyes glance over the faded and chipped paint of the old Hotwheels. “Those are very nice.”

Carter looks toward you with a big grin. He’s a kid of few words but big expressions. You smile back with a nod and he slides out of your arms.

“He wouldn’t go to sleep so we came out to watch the rain.” You hesitate a minute, but the pull of Joel’s familiarity wins out. “You’re welcome to join us. The porch swing is a little rickety, but it does the trick.”

“I was hoping you’d want some company.” Joel pulls a bottle of dark liquor from under his arm. You notice his rain-damp hair and shoulders for the first time. A few droplets slide down his curls.

“You getting used to me, Joel Miller?”

“You could say that.” He cocks his head to the side, smirk playing on his lips.

You turn your head so he doesn’t catch your own grin, but he does anyway. Spreading the blanket on the porch for Carter to play on, you disappear inside grabbing a couple of glasses.

When you come back, Joel is on his hands and knees with Carter, both making race car noises with their lips. It knocks the wind from you, and you brace against the door frame. You’d imagined this lost moment a thousand times. Sometimes you swore you could see Gabe sitting on the floor with Carter, the proudest smile on his face, but this is real and it’s not Gabe.

Carter makes a screeching noise, learning them from some racing movie they showed a few weeks ago, crashing his car into Joel’s. Joel makes his cart flip over and combust into flames. Carter laughs. There’s a piece of your heart that seems to mend, and another that seems to break. Gabe feels further away, a more distant past. Yet, you’re focused on what’s in front of you.

When Joel catches you watching, he smiles, says something to Carter, and rises to his feet. It feels like a scene from a movie where you don’t hear anything, but the single look is the most significant part.

Joel says something, taking the glasses from your hands. His lips move but you don’t hear him. His back is turned before you realize it, shaking your head to wake up your senses. “Sorry- what did you say?”

Joel chuckles, pouring a couple of fingers of whiskey into each glass. He hands one to you. “I said, I’m getting too old to get on the ground like that.”

You accept the glass, letting the liquid warm you. This feels so easy, too easy. It sends warning bells through your head, but you don’t want to deal with them. They're too easy to push away in Joel’s familiar presence.

“You didn’t have to.” You move to the end of your porch, easing onto the swing.

Joel’s eyes inspect the old swing with years of training before he decides it will hold for one night and settles next to you. “Nah- it was fun. I haven’t played cars in a long time.”

You take a sip of the whiskey to hide your grin.

“He doesn’t look a thing like you.” Joel teases.

“Spitting image of his father.” You laugh. “Gabe always said his genetics would win out. I can only imagine the gloating I would’ve heard from him.”

“He never knew him?”

You shake your head. “Gabe was infected while out on patrol when I was 7 months pregnant.”

You leave it at that. You don’t expound on one of the darkest times of your life, and Joel doesn’t ask. He’s being trained for patrol now. He knows a bite earns you a bullet in the head and your body burnt to a crisp. You sip from the glass, taking a little too much whiskey. It burns away the tears.

“I don’t know how you did it,” Joel says. You turn to meet his gaze, eyebrows raised. “Survive out here all those years alone. I wouldn’t have made it.”

“You did.”

Joel shakes his head. “No, I had Tommy and some friends along the way. And that almo- it wasn’t enough.”

He turns away subconsciously presenting his profile. You catch the scar on his temple. You’d never given it much stock until now. It hits you like a brick to the chest. Your fingers drift toward it, brushing over the old wound.

“After Sarah died- I didn’t see much point in going on.” His eyes land on yours again. Your fingers stay. “I flinched when I pulled the trigger. Missed”

He searches your eyes for judgment but finds none. He’s certain all he finds is understanding, a silent assurance that you know that hopeless feeling too.

Your fingers edge toward his hairline. The rain seems to fall heavier around you, creating a mist under the overhang, but it all seems far away with Joel Miller right in front of you. You’re both still, scared to spook the other, waiting for a sign you refuse to give yourself.

“Joel!” Clumsy footsteps clamber up the wooden steps to your home. Ellie appears with a lopsided grin and soaked hair. “You’ll never guess what I traded for, morherfucker.”

The tension snaps away until nothing. The space on the porch swing is seemingly greater than ever.

Joel raises an eyebrow at her, arms crossed over his chest.

Carter looks up at the intruder, taking stock before returning his attention to his cars.

“Oh, what? Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” you say, possibly too fast. You don’t leave time to consider what was potentially interrupted. You latch on to Ellie’s joy instead. “What did you get?” You ease back, casting Joel a teasing look. He doesn’t look your way this time.

“I knew I liked you, Nurse… er- Lady.”

Joel opens his mouth to supply your name but you beat him to it. “That’s me, Nurse Lady.”

Carter points at you. “Mommy.”

Ellie looks you dead in the eye. “I’m not calling you that.”

You laugh.

“What did you get, Ellie?” Joel asks, a little more give in his frame than a few seconds ago.

Ellie pulls a big, atlas-looking book from under her damp sweatshirt. “It’s pictures of space! Ones I haven’t seen before!”

“Space?” Carter’s head shoots up and a smile spreads across your face.

“Yeah!” Ellie exclaims, opening the book toward him. “See! Isn’t it cool?”

Carter ventures toward the new person carrying a book of great interest to him. “You like space too?”

He nods, watching with wide eyes for a few more pages, and then grabs Ellie’s hand, pulling her toward his blanket. “Sit.”

She listens and Carter climbs into her lap. “More.”

Ellie laughs. “Sure thing, bud.”

You go to tell Ellie that she doesn’t have to listen to the two-year-old. She can take her book home and enjoy it in peace, but you stop yourself. Something tells you that Ellie wouldn’t stay if she didn’t want to. She reads the words in the book with the same fascination that shines in Carter's young eyes until he falls asleep.

Joel stays next to you, the swing creaking rhythmically, the moment hidden away from the rest of Jackson by the cover of rain and a setting sun.

You and Joel go back to walking the next evening.

A couple of days later, Maria sits at your kitchen table when you come in from your walk with Joel. A steaming cup of tea sits in front of her and another caddy corner from her. You furrow your brow. The last time she’d greeted you with tea was when she told you she was pregnant. This welcome was usually reserved for serious conversations.

“Carter wake up?” You slide into the chair, taking the mug into your hands.

“No, just wanted to talk to you. It’s been a couple of days.” She eases back, hand resting atop her swollen stomach.

“I saw you at the clinic this morning.” You raise an eyebrow.

Now 7 months pregnant, you’ve monitored Maria and the baby closely. Tommy and Maria are so excited. You see it in their eyes every time it comes up. You’re trying your hardest not to let your fears cloud it, but you won’t be able to make it if something happens to Maria.

“We haven’t really talked though. Not since Sunday at dinner and Tommy has the guys over for Poker tonight.”

“You miss me after 3 days? I thought I was the codependent one.” You smile up at her with a laugh.

Gabe would have called it a sparkly smile. Maria clocks it immediately, and it stays, lingering across your features. She gasps. She’s seen nothing but glimpses and flickers of it since his death and now here it is on full display.

“Did I grow a third head or something?”

“No, just haven’t seen you like this in a while.”

“Like what?”

“Happy, Smiling.” Maria tilts her head to the side. “I thought I was imagining it this morning. Tommy mentioned it too.”

“I smile.”

“Not the sparkly kind.”

You pause, heart clenching at the thought. You know it’s what Gabe would have wanted. He loved your sparkly smile- given it its name. It feels like it should feel wrong for someone else to bring that out of you, but it doesn’t. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy.

“This have anything to do with your new walking partner?” Maria says over the lip of her mug.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You feign innocence, looking out the window. Joel’s porch light glows across the road. Your wedding band is cool against your fingertips as you twist it. A smile pushes against the borders of your lips.

“You act like your route doesn’t cut directly through town and past everyone’s houses 3 times.”

“We just walk together, Maria.”

She raises a suggestive eyebrow.

You roll your eyes. “Just walking.”

“More than walking is okay too.”

You cross your arms. “I thought you didn’t like Joel. It was all I heard about after he came through the first time.”

“He’s my brother-in-law. I have to try.” Maria bites her lip. “And he grows on you.”

You sigh trying to push away the thoughts that crowd your restless mind. Your attachment to him is beginning to feel inevitable like you never stood a chance because it had always been there. A holdover from before. It reminds you of the way you and Tommy bonded when he came to Jackson, that invisible tug from a former life tying you together, but there is something different with Joel. The all-encompassing crush from your early ears creeps up like a blush. You won’t say it lingered, but you know something is forming now as much as you try to ignore it.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“This,” you motion around you. “Building a life with someone just for the world to rip it all away.”

“That’s not-“

“Not what, Maria? You know it will happen.”

“Might not.”

“Might happen tomorrow.” You square your shoulders. Joel goes on patrol for the first time tomorrow. It’s a short shift for him to get the lay of the land, but so was Gabe’s. you’re terrified, and you’re terrified to admit you’re terrified.

She stares into your eyes with a still determination searching for any cracks to slip through as your impenetrable walls rise back up. All evidence of the sparkly smile is gone, erased from your face. Maria sighs, slowly rising to her feet, her cup of tea dried up.

The two of you say nothing as she moves about your kitchen with easy familiarity. She’s moving slower these days and for good reason. It eases your anxiety to know that she’s listening to you in that department.

She sets her cleaned mug on the dish wrack, drying her hands with a towel. You sip on your tea letting it warm you from within. It does nothing to ease your racing mind.

Maria’s firm, caring touch lands on your shoulder, drawing your attention up toward her. You know she can see it behind your eyes. It’s that same wild look she saw in you when she met you. You can only hold her gaze for so long until you have to look away. She can see too much in you.

Maria squeezes your shoulder. Her hands slide around your shoulders as she pulls your reluctant frame closer to her. She’s warm and comforting like a well-worn sweater. When her warm breath hits your temple followed by the soft kiss of a concerned parent or older sibling, you let your eyes flutter shut and inhale deeply. Your body relaxes as your sympathetic nervous system accepts the easy pressure of her embrace and your mind seems a little more quiet. You lean to the side, temple pressed to your best friend’s forehead.

“I’ll see you at Sunday Dinner,” Maria says. She’s using her soothing mom voice, and it works.

“Okay.”

She gives one more squeeze before releasing you. Your hands wrap back around the mug, searching for the warmth you lost.

Maria grabs her coat. “Oh, I invited Joel and Ellie too.”

You snap your head around. Maria wears a knowing grin but gives you a shrug. “They’re family now.”

You roll your eyes. Maria’s laugh is the last thing you hear before the front door clicks behind her. Silence falls over your home. When a tear falls from your eye, you swipe it away, stuffing down all the feelings rising to the surface.

The next evening, Joel isn’t on his porch when you come out. The worry you’ve pushed down all day bubbles over before you can stop it. Your heart beats in your ears as you stare at Joel’s front door, hoping, praying it opens. In the minutes you watch for him, you beg the world for a sign that Joel is okay, nothing happens. The house is still with no signs of life.

Anticipation melts to dread. They haven’t gotten back yet. That can only mean bad things. The same resolve hits you over and over. You can’t let this happen, not again. Stepping into the street, you try to go on as usual. Same path. Same pace, but the further you get from his front porch, the more you fight against the tug pulling you toward it- toward him. It wraps tight up your ankle like a vine. You think you can snap it with enough force and distance.

Instead, it climbs your leg further, piercing through your stomach. It constricts around your lungs like a snake and its branches encircle your heart. Your breathing quickens and shortens until you can’t see more than 2 feet in front of you. You can’t do this. Can’t let this happen. Your fingers bite into a tree as you stumble forward, grasping for stability. Bark digs under your fingernails. A sob releases from your throat, the one that sounds otherworldly but you’re all too familiar with, and you realize it’s tears that blind you because you refuse to give the world another person to tear from your arms, yet you fear you already have.

A warm hand lands on your back. You whip around in a fury of tears and ragged breathing. He recognizes it instantly. It’s the same look he used to see every time he looked in the mirror. He sucks in a breath and takes a step back.

You think the space will make it easier to breathe, but the panic sets in deeper. You don’t want him to go. It’s not fair. You thought you were stronger, but it only took days for Joel Miller to demolish the walls you worked so desperately to build. He had pinpointed the weakness in them as if he’d built them himself and came in swinging.

Your hand shoots out, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt. You’re a dear in the headlights, unsure if you should flee for your safety or stay and get hit by what’s coming.

Joel’s hand slowly covers yours. It’s warm. It settles your breathing. His heart beats under your palm a little faster than his calm demeanor lets on.

You sniff back the tears. You realize you were so focused on the traps underfoot that you didn’t realize you walked right into the mouth of one from the very beginning. The moment you leaned into Joel’s familiarity, it snapped shut with no way out. Joel cautiously reaches out, swiping away the tears on one cheek. When you don’t shy away from his touch, he wipes away the others.

It’s a spacious trap. There’s room to roam around. You don’t feel confined, and Joel is in it with you.

“I don’t have to walk with ya tonight.” His voice is quiet. His eyes are soft and understanding. “I understand if you need some space.”

Despite offering you space, he squeezes your hand tighter and leans in, and godamnit, you like it.

“No.” You shake your head. “Stay. I like the company.”

His brow furrows. “You sure, Sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” You nod. His shirt eases back around his chest now crinkled from your grip, but your hand stays. “Believe it or not, I enjoy having you around.”

You force a smile.

“Yeah…” He smiles softly. “Me too.” He takes a step backward. You ignore the soft pang in your chest at the increased distance.

You and Joel settle back into the path as you have the past two nights, but he’s closer tonight. His shoulder brushes yours every so often. He keeps the conversation light. He doesn’t ask about your anxiety attack.

At the end of your walk, Joel’s arm slides around your waist pulling you against his chest. Your breath catches as his other hand slides across your shoulder blades leaving a trail of fire behind it, landing at the base of your skull. He comes over you like a wave, heavy and disorienting when it hits but peaceful once it settles. Your eyes close, resting your head against his chest.

His fingers knead slowly at your skull, releasing built-up tension. Sparks ignite low in your belly. You don’t try to extinguish them this time.

“Sleep well, Sweetheart.”

You swear you feel his lips on your forehead, but he’s gone before you have time to consider it further, back behind his door leaving you to wrestle with that moment all night.

On Thursday morning, Joel works in the barn fixing the big swinging door when Tommy strides in. Joel is so focused on his craft, the long-forgotten feel of wood beneath his touch that he doesn’t catch the grin etched on his younger brother’s face.

“What’s going on, big brother?” Tommy says with a prying tone.

“Can you hand me that hammer?” Joel says, sweat beading his forehead.

Tommy chuckles, handing it to Joel.

Joel turns an eye toward him. “You’re in a good mood.”

“A little birdie told me something.”

Joel lifts an eyebrow. He doesn’t have time for Tommy’s antics. There’s a door to fix and he knows his brother gets more joy drawing things out. Joel does not. “What?”

“Oh come on- you have to guess.”

“Tommy, since when have I played along with your games?”

Tommy sighs. “Buzz kill.”

Joel chuckles.

“Rumor has it, you’ve been walking around with a certain babysitter.”

Joel’s face falls stoic. “She’s not the babysitter anymore.” He sets down the tools with a sigh “What’s it to you?”

“Oh come on, Joel. Is that why she’s been smiling so much lately? You giving her a reason to smile?” Tommy grins.

Joel looks at Tommy through the corner of his eye. “You askin’ me if I’m fucking your dead buddy’s widow?”

It flashes across his face, the pain of losing someone so close before his smile is back in place. Joel doesn’t have time to feel bad for it.

“Not to sound crass, but he’d be happy if you were.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Joel lets the tool drop to the ground, giving in to Tommy.

Tommy sighs. “When I came to Jackson, she smiled all the time. Reminded me of when we’d get back from a job and she and Sarah were up to no good.” Joel’s nods. He’d felt the same pull toward you. “Gabe- he kept her smiling. I know we’ve all been through some dark shit, but she went at it alone. Since his death, her smiles have been few and far between ‘til now. He didn’t want her to go back to how she was before. Told Maria that much.”

“Maria?”

“Yeah, they were out on patrol together when he got infected.”

Hit stomach hit the ground. If Maria was with Gabe when- “Shit,” Joel breathes. “I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah…” Tommy says but doesn’t let the silence linger. Gabe’s demise is still a sore subject for him. “Gabe, all he wanted was for her to be happy, for her to smile. You’re doing that, and it’s a big deal.”

Joel hopes his brother doesn’t catch the stutter in his breathing, the way his thoughts drift back to you. He doesn’t need anyone’s permission. You’re grown adults, but it’s there. Gabe wanted you to be happy- they all want you to be happy and somehow, he’s one of the people that does that. Tommy’s not judging him at the possibility of being interested in a woman 13 years his junior. If anything, he’s encouraging it. Joel feels easier and lighter. In it all, he realizes just how much he wants you.

The following evening, Joel is almost embarrassed at how quickly he clocks the missing gold band on your left knuckle. His mind races with possibilities. He knows you don’t wear it when you work at the clinic, but he hasn’t seen you without it outside of the clinic. Granted, the only time he’s noticed was on your walks. Did you forget it? His heart leaps a little. Did you do it on purpose? And you’re wearing those damn matching pajamas again. The same ones that got him here in the first place.

There’s something in the air tonight. The hairs on his arms stand on end. He walks closer to you. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or make things weird, but the whole time his eyes keep drifting back to your bare knuckle. What does it mean? And he wants to know if you feel the same.

He can't feel the way your skin burns, heat exploding like fireworks across your body blooming and fizzling one after another. You’re tempted to pull him off your beaten path early, dragging him in front of the whole town across your threshold after just the first lap, but you resist and spend the next lap wondering if he’s walking closer tonight, talking slower tonight. Even the timbre of his voice seems to change, conveying the burning need of desire. Still, you hesitate to confirm it. Maybe you’re wrong about it all. What if you’re wrong about it all?

Joel follows you to your porch tonight. Maria’s suggestive remarks fill your brain. More than walking is okay. It puts out any doubts filling your head. You glance up at Joel, you read it in his expressive eyes. Eyes you’ve come to know so well. You’re fighting the fire blazing its way through your body with logic and reasoning. Neither is good at fighting fires, and your limbs burn with desire.

Joel waits at the bottom of your porch steps. You rest against the support beam watching him with a careful eye.

He gives you an easy smile. “I enjoy our walks.”

He makes no moves toward or away from you. He’s leaving this in your hands. You’re not naive. Just sex in this world comes with its own set of risks. It requires trust in a world without STD testing, treatment, and contraceptives. You’re still well within childbearing age. Maria’s pregnancy is a constant reminder, but you trust Joel. You always have.

He stands at the bottom of your porch steps, hands in his pockets as you lean against the support beam. He’s staring at you with that look you’ve caught glimpses of this past week but it’s on full display now, burning into you like a raging wildfire.

You tip your head up, catching a glimpse of the moon under the awning. A smile plays on your lips. You’re buzzing like you’ve spent the evening sipping on cocktails at the bar. “I shouldn’t tell you this- but here we are.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. “Tell me what?”

His voice is smooth and bold like a cup of morning coffee. You can taste it on your tongue- bitter but full of life. You laugh to cover up the embarrassment flooding to the surface, but you feel alive for the first time in a long time. You wonder if he’s seen the desire in your eyes too. You know it’s been there. You want him, and you intend to have him tonight.

“I had the biggest crush on you in high school and college.”

Something about putting the words out there doesn’t seem as embarrassing as it did 5 seconds ago. You’re a grown-ass adult and that was 20 years ago. Joel chuckles and you join him again, laughing under the moonlight like he’s dropping you off after a first date and you’re playing with your keys.

Joel’s boots hit the first step, hand gliding over the worn railing. “You did? Must’ve done a damn good job at hiding it.”

“Or maybe you were just blinder than a bat.”

“Were you trying to make moves on me then?” Joel comes up the second step. His body heat is just out of reach.

“No. Wouldn’t have been appropriate. I knew that much.”

Joel rises to your level. You can smell him now- pine. It's one of the three scents you can trade for in this town. You didn’t imagine differently. Joel didn’t strike you as a Lavender or Lemon kind of guy. His hand rests above your head as he invades your space. You feel his body heat close in. You stand straighter, meeting his searing gaze. The air is thick between you as your breathing deepens.

“And what about now? Would it be appropriate now?”

His voice is low and husky. Just how you imagined it would be all those years ago, but you still catch the hesitancy in his eyes, the restraint pulling at his throat. It sets a fire burning across your skin.

You step back, ducking out of his space. You miss his proximity immediately. You catch the slight embarrassment that flashes across Joel’s face. He looks around nervously like he didn’t just read the situation completely wrong. You feel almost bad as your hand touches the door knob and you look back at him.

“Are you gonna come in?” You open the door. He looks relieved. “I think the neighbors are gonna talk, but I’d rather keep them talking than put on a show.”

You turn your back to him crossing the threshold. You try to calm your beating heart. His boots are heavy on the porch. Before you can comprehend it, the front door shuts. The hardwood presses against your back, and Joel’s hands rest against the door on either side of your head. You feel the heat radiating off him, but he doesn’t touch you. Your hands hang in fists at your side refusing to touch him first. You meet his wild gaze.

He leans in and heat rushes through your body settling in your core. You squeeze your legs together and wonder if he catches it. You tilt your chin up to meet his lips. They come so close but circle just out of your reach. His hot breath hits your ear making your toes curl. You want to fuss at him. You almost do, but resist. You’re wet and he has yet to touch you.

“Tell me this is okay. Tell me you want this.” He’s still hovering, refusing to touch you.

Your head turns to meet his gaze. He thinks he’s doing something wrong. “Joel, I’m a 43-year-old woman, not some naive-”

“Tell me.” There’s a force behind it, a desperation.

You look at his eyes, blow wide with lust. It shortens your breath. Your limbs feel heavy with need.

“I want you.”

He surges forward, lips crashing into yours. Your teeth nash against each other, but you don’t care. Threading your fingers in his thick curls, you pull him closer, craving him. Desire pumps through every ounce of your being.

His hand settles over your hip slipping under your pajama shirt. Your nipples harden as his hand glides over your skin, going up until he cups your breast. His thumb circles over your clothed nipple and you gasp into his mouth. He smirks pressing you further into the door. Your leg instinctively hooks over his hip and his hard cock presses against your core.

“Joel.” You moan, moving your hips against him.

A moan falls off his lips as he sucks on your bottom lip. “You’re killing me, Sweetheart.”

He moves to your neck. His fingers wrap around the back of your thigh guiding your other leg around his waist. He squeezes your breast again and your legs squeeze around him. He bucks into you.

Your head falls back granting him further access to your neck. You need to be out of your clothes. You want Joel out of his. You don’t care if it’s here or in your bedroom or somewhere else. It needs to happen and it needs to happen soon.

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt. There’s an urge to rip it open and let the buttons scatter across the floor like you’d seen in movies, but you don’t. Resource management is still essential even in the throws of passion.

The first two pop open. He’s sucking on your neck, nipping like a herd dog. “You tryin' to mark me, Miller?” He pulls your Texas draw out like honey.

He doesn’t respond, teeth grazing your collarbone, making you gasp. His hips jut forward and his name rolls off your tongue.

He pulls up your shirt, groaning when your sports bra comes into view. He’s not getting you out of that while you’re against the door. It’s like you can read his mind. “First door at the top of the steps.”

He glances up the staircase behind him. You think he’s gonna let your legs drop to the floor and drag you up the steps. Instead, his fingers dig into your ass. Before he can lift you away from the door, he realizes you’re not wearing underwear under your thin pajama shorts.

“How long have you been walkin around without panties, Sweetheart?” His cock brushes over your core. You’re sure you’ve left a wet spot on his jeans by now.

“How long have you known me?” It’s out of your mouth before you have time to think it through. Your cognitive function has been reduced to one goal: getting Joel Miller into your bed.

Joel considers the implication. For a split second, you think it might make him bolt. Remind him that he knew you as a teenager, but he groans, leaving you putty in his calloused hands. He presses hot, open-mouth kisses on your neck. Your fingers tangle in his hair to keep his mouth on your flesh. His hands adjust under your ass and he’s carrying you up the steps.

It doesn’t matter how fit survival made you, going up the steps with the extra weight of a toddler was hard enough, much less your entire body. It’s far from effortless on Joel’s part. He gives up on the third step. You applaud his efforts through your laugh.

“Come on, old man.” You wink, dragging him behind you up the remaining stairs.

“Who you calling old man?” He growls, crowding behind you.

He kicks your bedroom door closed and you pray it doesn’t wake your sleeping child.

You pull off your shirt. Joel backs you onto your soft mattress. Before you have a chance to catch up, his fingers are in the elastic of your flimsy pajama shorts sliding them down your legs in haste. Letting them fly across the room. Your bra joins them in quick succession.

He’s crawling over you so slowly, eyes raking over your bare body as he does. You burn under his gaze and he’s still not touching you, not in all the places you crave.

His jean-clad thighs push against yours, spreading your legs slowly. They’re rough against your thighs, but in the way you love. You reach up, allowing your fingers to play in his hair again. He pushes into your touch, eyes fluttering closed as his lips leave soft kisses over your palm.

His hand starts on your hip. You push into his touch a soft moan vibrating in your throat as you bite your lip. You’ve always loved the feel of your hips being touched. He chuckles, sliding his hand up your sternum. He comes just under your breast before ghosting his fingers back down. He repeats the path but this time with his lip. They leave a fire burning across your body in their wake. You watch him under heavy lids and low hums.

He doesn’t stop under your breasts this time. His tongue slips out as he makes it to your nipple, going over it with one smooth swipe. It pulls a sweet gasp from you. He repeats the process with your second breast. You roll your hips as his name rolls off your lips.

He groans nipping up your chest again. Your hands roam up and down his back. You catch the faint catch of scarring every now and then, but it’s all a part of Joel. It tells his story and you’re a part of that now. If it’s just tonight, that’s fine. If it’s more- you won’t think about that.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, pulling you back into the here and now. He doesn’t slow down as he ascends your throat crawling higher and higher until his lips are on yours. Your fingers are in his hair. He slides his tongue into your mouth and his hand over your breast, tweaking your tight nipple every third interval.

You push your pelvis against his. You’re slick and desperate for relief, and his jeans are still on.

Joel chuckles, squeezing your breast as he devours your mouth. Your hands make their way down his chest to the fly of his pants. You pop open the button before Joel pulls back. You try to capture him again, but he slips away.

You want to whine and throw a temper tantrum. “Joel.” You fuss, pupils blown wide.

He chuckles deeply. “I know, Sweetheart.”

He brushes over your hips with his fingers dragging them down your thigh. Before you can spread your legs for him, he pushes your knees up revealing your slick cunt.

You expect more teasing, for him to lean in and pull back right away, but he doesn’t. He leans in, nose running through your wet folds. You moan out his name trying desperately to get closer to him.

His hand drags down your stomach, spreading your lips. He eased down again, dragging his tongue through on his second journey.

Your moans grow louder. You tug on his curls. When he pulls your clit between his lips, your legs snap, trapping his head between your thighs. There’s a tug in your stomach. Joel continues to work the sensitive bundle over and over and over. Your pleas turn to encouragement until they’re no longer words at all. Please. Yes. Yes. More. More. More. The sounds marry together with your body, an extension of sensation until warmth spreads throughout like water soaking through a paper towel across your entire body in a crescendo long laid dormant.

Joel works his way back up your body with hot opened mouth kisses as you pant, catching your breath. Your fingers brush across his back in smooth trails. He shivers against your touch.

“So beautiful.”

Heat races toward your cheeks as if the previous minutes weren’t worthy of that. He smiles, dipping down to touch your lips.

Your hands work toward his waistband. You shove his pants down as best you can. Joel tuts your name softly but helps in your pursuit. His pants and underwear fall to the floor, his cock standing tall. You ogle it like it’s water in the desert. “Someone’s eager.”

“Wanna take care of you too.” You pant, still fighting for breath.

Joel's head falls back. “Fuck, not to tonight, Sweetheart.” His hand tangles in your hair.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw and then another and another. “I’m not gonna last long tonight and I wanna make sure I get the chance to be inside you.”

It is the damn truth too. Joel hasn’t been with anyone in almost a year. He hadn’t had the chance for much other relief while traipsing across the western states either. His body is only starting to come down from the constant alertness and tension that came with being on the outside.

You spread your legs out, your dripping pussy on display for Joel. He swallows, crawling over you. You hook a leg over his waist. Joel takes his time, igniting small fires over your skin. You whimper with impatience, making him laugh.

“Please, Joel.”

“So goddamn impatient for me.”

Does he know how goddamn patient you’ve been? That this picture embedded itself in your mind 25 years ago? A picture you labeled never gonna happen.

Finally, he eases into you, slowly, like he’s savoring it. Watching his eyes roll back in his head confirms that he is, sending shivers down your spine. You force your hips toward him, forcing him further into you. You’d forgotten the satisfying stretch of being wrapped around a man. Your moans tangle with Joel’s as he enters you fully, sweat forming across your abdomen.

His fingers intertwine with yours on the mattress. His eyes lock with yours, sending more shock waves across your skin. Your walls clench around him of their own volition. He falls forward with a hiss, catching himself on his forearm. “Fuck, Sweetheart. It’s been a long time. I ain’t gonna last if you keep doing that.”

You squeeze his hand and trail your fingertips down his chest and stomach. He shudders at your touch. It sends another thrill, another wave of electricity straight to your bones. You squeeze him again, and he gasps. You’ve forgotten what it was like to have this effect on a man.

“You gonna fuck me, old man?”

He groans, burying his face in your neck. Hot breath spreads across your skin in an uncontrollable blaze. Finally, his hips rock against yours, setting sparks off where his skin connects with yours. You moan, arching your back and baring for skin for him to consume. He nips at your neck and collarbone, teeth scraping behind. Your breath catches and Joel notices. His eyes sparkle down at you with mischief.

He nibbles at your ear lobe. “I’m going to keep that tucked away for later.” and then he picks up the pace, pulling out and pushing in over and over. Your stomach clenches at the promise of more. More than one night. Nights. You shut your brain off there. Any further and you’ll spiral.

You focus on the thrust of his hips. In and out. In and out. Your hands land on his hips, thumbs caressing the skin there. A bead of sweat falls from Joel’s brown. His lips land on yours again. You can tell he’s close, the tension of your orgasm building.

You slip a hand to your cunt, reaching for your clit. Joel smacks your hand away, replacing it with his own. “That’s my job, Darlin.”

Your nipples tighten. Your walls clench around him, your head swimming with incoherent thoughts and words as the sweat builds across your flushed body. Joel barely touches your clit before you’re crying out, muscles tightening before releasing with pleasure. It crashes over your body like much-needed waves after years of drought.

“Fuck,” Joel hisses, pulling out of you completely.

His lips connect with yours, soft and tender this time. His calloused hands cradle your face as small cries come from your mouth as words still fail to form.

“I know, baby. I know.” He kisses your forehead, pushing back your hair until you come back down.

Your limbs tingle and your body buzzes with a relaxing energy. You’d forgotten what the high was like- the comedown. You feel lighter than you have in months, years even. A smile begins to spread across your face, the bubbling of laughter in your chest. You run your fingers through Joel’s hair and he smiles back.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing really.” But the soft rumble of your chest continues.

“Is that so?” Joel’s crow’s feet crinkle making your heart clench. He presses another soft kiss to your lips, another to your forehead.

“That’s so,” you hum with contentment.

He chuckles. “We should get you cleaned up.”

Joel eases off the bed, entering through the open door of your en-suite bathroom. You take a second to appreciate his bare form before your gaze travels to your own body. Your brain finally registers Joel’s warm semen, sticky across your stomach.

You send up a prayer that Joel had the wherewithal you didn’t in the moment. You’re almost embarrassed how long it took you to realize he finished on your stomach.

Joel steps back into the room, washcloth in hand. “Thank god for modern amenities.” He winks at you as he sits on the edge of the bed, bringing the warm cloth to your stomach.

“I’ve got it,” you say, pushing Joel’s hand away as he tries to clean you up.

“I don’t mind cleaning up after myself.” A smirk plays in his eyes but flickers away when you don’t reciprocate.

You lean away from him, shoulders tensing. “I prefer to do it.”

His fingers glide over your bare thigh as you wipe away the last of him, setting the cloth on your nightstand. Goosebumps raise in salute with each of his motions. Your back rests against the headboard as you both sit in naked silence.

Not a word passes between you. His fingers continue across your thigh. You watch him, his profile, his fingers until the anxiety sets in. Your stomach twists in knots. Your frame is rigid. You pick at the sheets, unable to look Joel’s way.

He knows it. He feels your walls go up before you can’t look his way so he withdraws his hand, collects his clothes- all but the flannel lying downstairs- and kisses your forehead. Then he waits.

He’s waiting for you to look at him. His eyes watch your profile, burning it until you can no longer bear it. You push back the tears, meeting his eyes.

He smiles softly, understandingly. “Same time tomorrow?”

Your stomach clenches and turns in a ball of excitement and dread. “Same time tomorrow.”

With the reassurance, he kisses your head for a final time. “Sleep well, Sweetheart.”

Then he leaves for the night like you told yourself you wanted.

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