#since its the hands/forearms that keep going missing

[kentopedia]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ BLAME IT ON THE BLACK STAR — hayakawa aki

summary . . . maybe aki’s in the wrong for all the mixed signals he sends you, but it’s your fault for always picking up the phone.

contents . . . f!reader, angst, complicated relationships, smoking, miscommunication, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, ambiguous ending, hurt/comfort i suppose — 5.6k

notes . . . this is my first time writing for aki so pls be nice i’m nervous hdjwjwk <33 i’m not all the way caught up w csm so it might be inaccurate idk

Aki calls you, sometimes, when he’s feeling lonely. You figure, by now, he must have your number memorized, with how frequently your phone ends up ringing. 

Of course, you always pick up, knowing you shouldn’t, knowing it’ll just end up hurting. But you can’t help yourself, really. You’re incredibly weak for a man that you know will never commit his life to you. You learned that lesson a long time ago. 

Still, you’re a fool who refuses to move on. 

Instead, you stand, shivering in the cold in front of Aki’s door, waiting for him to answer it. The lights are off in the apartment — you have no idea where his new roommates are for the evening, but they clearly aren’t there. Aki wouldn’t have called you otherwise; you’re certain he doesn’t want anyone to know about the two of you, save for those that have known since the beginning.  

Heavy footsteps pad across the floor, and then the lamp in the hallway flicks on, illuminating the threshold in a beam of yellow. The door unlatches, opening just a crack, as his blue eyes drift down to trail over you. 

“You got here faster than I thought.” 

“I’m freezing, Aki,” you say, pushing through the door. His palm falls away, rests at his sides. Its only eight o’clock, but he’s already in sweatpants, a loose sweatshirt hanging over his tall frame. Dark hair falls across his cheeks, still damp from his earlier shower. 

“Sorry,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “I was in the bathroom.” 

You don’t reply, and shrug your coat off instead, hanging it on the rack that is now full of jackets that don’t belong to him. But you’re barely able to get it onto the hook before Aki has a palm around your wrist, tugging you towards him, the smell of his body wash and shampoo lingering in a cloud around him. 

A little welp of surprise leaves you as you spin around, nearly falling into his chest. Instead, you collide with his mouth, the heat already settling down on you as heavily as it always does when Aki is around.

He kisses you, long and hard, hungry for the taste of you, his head craned down to meet your height. For a moment, you let him. It’s sweet and familiar, all the things you’ve ever wanted.

In moments like these, you indulge in thoughts of a life where things are different. A life where Aki can greet you at the door, smile when you kiss him, instead of the pensive expression he always wears. A life where Aki doesn’t come home with new scars every few days, where he isn’t hell-bent on a goal you’re not sure he can ever achieve.

That dream of yours won’t ever become a reality, but it doesn’t stop you from savoring the taste of his mouth against your own — how much you’ve missed it, even when you shouldn’t. 

When you’ve run out of air to breathe, you push him away, and Aki stands straight, blinking like he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. 

“Not even going to offer to make me dinner?” you ask, keeping him at a distance. Although you meant for it to sound playful, teasing, it comes off full of a bitter resentment. Your face is probably drawn up into a scowl, even if you can’t see it.

Aki blinks, rubbing his forearm. His lips part, then he shuts them, furrowing his eyebrows together. “You said you were cooking — over the phone, you said you’d already eaten.” 

“Well, at least you remember that.” 

Confusion spreads even further, tighter, stretching to every corner of his expression. Aki’s hands twitch listlessly at his side, just as his mouth does. “Are you upset with me?” he asks, and you know he’s smarter than that, that he might not be the most sensitive to others’ emotions, but he is certainly no fool when it comes to yours. “If you didn’t want to come over tonight, I wasn’t forcing you.” 

A laugh almost escapes you — instead, you muster up a cool grimace. Like you aren’t going drop everything for Aki every time he says I don’t want to be alone tonight. 

Really, it was laughable how tightly he had you in the palm of his hand, and you can’t fathom that he would think otherwise. You’ve always done whatever he needed; given him whatever he wanted. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital?” you ask finally, swallowing back your annoyance as you gesture towards the bandage around his arm. It’s wrapped up tight, but the bandages are fresh, still a starched white. 

His eyebrows tighten further. The air around him changes, even though his expression doesn’t. “Who told you about that?” 

“Himeno.” 

Aki purses his lips. “I didn’t realize you two were friends now.” 

You did laugh then, shaking your head as you make your way into the living room, looking for any subtle changes in his apartment. There are new pairs of shoes that certainly don’t belong to him, a sweatshirt that looks about two sizes too small. 

“I wouldn’t really say we’re friends,” you shrug, not bothering to look at him. The air in the room is somehow off-putting, and you take it in like it’s the first you’d ever seen of the place. “But how else am I supposed to find out if you’re still alive?” 

You give him a sad little smile, and slowly, the irritation seeps out of his face, his shoulders slumping. He looks tired, then — far too old for a man that is still so young. 

“It wasn’t that serious. I’m fine now, aren’t I?” Aki gestures to his arm, flails it wildly, as if to prove it’s still working properly. “Just a scratch.”

“It is serious. It’s serious to me,” you say, narrowing your eyes, and though his tone is warmer, he doesn’t smile at you, not like he used to. He maintains a vague air of surprise, while dampening any emotion that could cloud over his lack of understanding. It annoys you to no end, that he won’t let you see him.“I’m always worried about you, idiot. Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel about you.” 

Aki blinks, then draws his lips together in a thin line, shaking his head. Although you were pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes, you could feel the tension drawing you together like a cord. 

God, you missed him every time you were apart. You went to your regular job, thought all day about the man who would never love you like you loved him, wondering if he was okay, if he’d pick up the phone and call you again next week. Or if, one day, it would be Himeno instead, telling you that you’d never see him again — or, god forbid, Makima, with her careless tone of authority. That thought alone haunts you even with your eyes open.

But for now, it’s still Aki who calls you, and every time, you are overwhelming relieved to hear the sound of his voice again. Heavy tears always drop down your cheeks as you dig the phone into your ear, wishing that it was his mouth there instead, and wishing that those pretty blue eyes still looked at you with the same sort of softness they once had. 

“I told you…” Aki begins sharply, but then he trails off, finally meeting your gaze. His features pinch once more, melodramatic, as he scans the sadness that you could never hide in your expression. “Damn it.” Car lights flash over his face through the window as someone drives past the apartment complex. The darkness of the room becomes even more evident when they disappear.

“I know,” you say, resigned, as you watch him scrub his hands over his face, and inhale heavily. It’s hard for you to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. “You’ve reminded me — many times. I know this doesn’t mean we’re back together. I know, Aki.”

His jaw parts, lips faltering at the beginning of a phrase. Despite his tall frame, he falters, looking so small, as sadness filters into the eyes that shine a deep navy in the shade of the evening. Beside him his fingers twitch, curling up into his palm, before he takes two long strides towards you. 

The mere second it takes him to get there passes without your memory, and your back hits the door to his bedroom, softly, as he looms over you, fingers brushing your cheeks. 

A thousand times you’ve been in this position, and it’s so familiar that your hand reaches up instinctively, splaying across his chest. Aki’s breaths leave him, deeply, expanding through his lungs before he exhales them across your cheekbones, oxygen splitting at the bridge of your nose. “What’s wrong?” you ask quietly, blinking up at him from under your lashes. 

“That’s not what I meant.” His voice comes out on a hoarse whisper.

“Hm?” You dig your fingers into his sweatshirt, the material thick and warm. “What did you mean?” 

Tenderly, his thumb brushes across the hollows of your cheek, the sharp bone that juts out. Aki’s fingertips are so rough and calloused, but that familiarity brings a sob out of you, your hands springing up to grab his wrists. “That I’m not fooling anyone,” Aki says, swallowing, eyes roaming all over your face. “That I can’t stay away from you, no matter how hard I try.”

Your lips part, but your breath is stolen away by another kiss, blanketing your mouth, warm and with an emotion that you’re certain you can taste. It takes you less than a moment for you to close your eyes, to relax into him as always, melt into his familiarity. The taste of the cigarettes he smokes lingers on his tongue, seeping deep into your own lungs. 

As he bumps his nose with your own, you reach up, run your fingers through his hair, untangling all the knots that have accumulated since his shower. At the same time, Aki palms at the door behind you, not bothering to look up as he fumbles for the door handle, slipping it open.

Aki always kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it, struggling to unglue you from himself. He kisses you like he knows he’s going to leave again, and it might be for the very last time. 

It’s a sickening emotion to live with, but you’ve accepted it all the same. 

You ignore the feelings that never leave you alone when you’re with Aki, and stumble backwards into the room, feet catching under you. Although you nearly fall, Aki catches you, arms heavy around your waist, large palm spreading across your lower back. 

“You’re so pretty,” he says, nearly carrying you to his bed. The two of you latch so tightly onto the other, that you will surely go tumbling down if either of you makes the wrong move. “I’ve never met anyone as pretty as you.” 

“Aki,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear that.” 

He stumbles, and you do fall onto the bed, then, his heavy body on top of you, landing with a thud. But he’s careful to catch himself, to tuck his arms into the space beside you, as he kisses across your cheeks, down your neck, to your chest. 

“Why?” he asks into your skin, voice low and rough. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” his tone is dry, sarcastic. Aki’s fingers fumble with the zipper on your jeans, slipping your pants off faster than you can inhale a fresh set of air into your lungs. “Want me to prove it to you?”

Despite your lingering resentment, you crack a smile, shift your hips so he can pull your bottoms off completely. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall in love with me again?” you say off-handedly, running your hands along the edge of his shirt, before slipping cold fingers under it. His skin is hot there, abdomen soft, muscle just as lean as it was last week, but stronger than when you’d first met him. 

Aki’s eyes soften. “Why would I be afraid of a thing like that?” 

You don’t like the double meaning in his words, and you don’t want to read into it. Instead, you pull Aki back down to your mouth, hoping he’ll take and take from you, even though he’s always one to give. The one who calls you, who needs to be inside of you, but won’t worry about himself until you’ve come apart at least once. 

“Feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he says, pushing your thighs further apart, muttering the words against your lips. His fingers graze the outside of your panties, as you slowly begin to wet them with desire that burns hot in your stomach. “I missed you.” 

You feel his smile curl as he kisses across your chest, around your collarbones, and you sit up far enough to slide your shirt off. Aki does the same — there are fresh scars on his body, healing wounds. You can’t look at them for too long, before grief rises up in you, mourning a man that is not yet dead. 

“Whose fault is that?” you ask bitterly, pushing the top of his head to sink him to your thighs. Instead, he takes his time pressing his mouth around your belly, swirling his tongue just past your hips. 

A sigh leaves you, and you sink deeper into the mattress, eyes blinking closed. He’s so slow, so deliberate with every movement, like he’s been waiting all of this time just to lose himself in you. Ridiculous, really, considering that he could have you at anytime, and he knows it. 

You’d hate him for it, for stringing you along like this, but that would be hypocritical, really. You’re the fool that continues to play the game. 

Aki ignores your passing comment, squeezing your thighs as his face drifts down your body. His hair brushes against your bare skin, still a bit damp, but so soft, the scent of his soap so familiar you could pick out the shampoo with your eyes closed. 

“Want my fingers or my mouth first?” Aki whispers into the inside of your thigh, kissing the delicate skin there as he looks up at you from under thick, black lashes. They flutter over his cheekbones, the hollows of his eyes, and he’s so pretty… it’s no wonder you’re so far gone for him. “Since you’re in such a mood tonight, I’ll let you choose.” 

There’s a tiny smirk on his face, and even though you’re about to answer, Aki takes it upon himself to kiss your cunt through your panties, the fabric sticking to your skin. 

“A-aki,” you stutter, caught off-guard, fingers lacing through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “You didn’t give me a chance to answer.” 

He drags his tongue up your clothed cunt, wetting it even further, so you can’t tell if you’re soaked from his spit or your own arousal. “I picked instead. Like the way you moan when my mouth’s on you,” he says off-handedly, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you stare at the ceiling, still so shy when it comes to his dirty mouth. “No one’s here,” Aki continues, words vibrating against the bone, puffs of air drifting around your sensitive area. “Want you to be loud.” 

A tiny laugh escapes you, but it is quickly stolen by a whimper as he sucks your clit into his mouth through the cotton of your underwear, an old pair that was anything but sexy. Although, you’ve known Aki for so long, been with him for so long, there’s never any reason to try and impress him. 

“Feels good,” you say, closing your eyes as you rest on the pillow. Aki pushes his tongue against your hole, teasing. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs, keeping them from locking around his head as you search for more friction. Your chest rises and falls with the heat of your breathing, but Aki doesn’t let you rub yourself against his tongue, doesn’t let you move much, really. “Aki,” you whine, and though there are times when he doesn’t let you get your way, this isn’t one of them.

“So impatient,” he says cheekily, but he slips your panties to the side, your cunt vulnerable to the frigid winter air. You shiver, and he sinks his tongue into you completely, the heat of it warming you as he swirls it inside, spreading you further open with his fingers. 

Your body grows hot all over when Aki thrusts his tongue in and out of your aching walls, your juices seeping onto his tongue. He moves slowly, savoring every moment that you’re in his bed, even as you try to arch into him, speed him up so that you can orgasm faster. He’s right: you are impatient, because it’s been days since you’ve last felt him inside of you, and nothing feels as good as Aki’s thick fingers and cock. 

His nose bumps your clit as he drags his tongue in a thick stripe up your cunt. A moan leaves you, and without thinking, you jerk your hips up, forcing them towards his face. The sound from your chest is so lewd, and you’ll feel shy about how loud you were later, but all you can think about is his mouth on you. 

Aki smiles, kisses the inside of your thigh. When he lifts his head, the ache inside you burns deeper, the sight of him with saliva and fluid dripping down his chin almost too much for you to handle. “Taste so good,” he hums, massaging the skin around your knees, hoisting your calves up over his shoulder blades. “Think you can cum from just my tongue, baby? You’re so pent up, I don’t think you can last much longer.” 

You whimper, pressing your heels into his back as Aki’s tongue resumes lapping up your cunt, long and hot, massaging the most sensitive spots inside of you. You can tell he’s hard, aching as he shifts his hips awkwardly, trying not to press them in the bed. 

Aki picks up his speed, head bobbing slightly as the heat insides of you builds; normally, you would’ve lasted longer, but you can’t remember the last time you’ve even touched yourself, and your most recent orgasm must have been with Aki. 

You don’t tell him when you’re close, but he already knows, sucking harder on your clit as you finally come, body jerking into him, walls spasming. Your eyes squeeze shut, and his name leaves your lips much quieter than he would’ve liked. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Aki says, tugging off his sweatpants, the only layer between you and his cock. His dark hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, the way you’d pulled at him, tried to guide him where you wanted him, even if he already knew. “So easy for you to get me hard, you know that?” His cock is leaking at the tip, desperate for release, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “Just the thought of you spread out like this is enough.” 

A desperate whine leaves you, and you reach behind, unclasping the straps of your bra, the last remaining garment between you and Aki. He grins at that, his canines so sharp, teeth a little crooked, but the prettiest smile you’d ever seen because you see it so rarely. 

“Gonna play with those pretty tits while I fuck you, baby?” 

“Fuck, Aki, please,” you groan, reaching for him, pulling his mouth to your own. You kiss him hard, hoping that he knows you love him, and hoping that he feels guilty about that fact. “Want you inside me. God, I need you so bad.” 

He presses his forehead to your own, lining his cock up with your entrance, the head prodding at your gaping walls. You get so sensitive, even from just one orgasm, that you wince a little bit. But the uncomfortable feeling eases as he presses into you, kisses you sweetly.

“Fuck, fuck,” Aki groans, biting down hard on your shoulder. “God, you’re so wet, so warm. You feel so good around my cock, baby. Such a pretty girl for me.” 

Your nails dig into his back as he slides, slowly, out of you, before he thrusts back in, still not rough enough for your liking. Aki’s hair falls around his face, his mouth parting just a bit, focus dilating his irises. His biceps flex as he holds himself off the bed, snapping his hips into your aching cunt. 

“H-harder,” you mumble, trying not to shout, to moan too loudly into the open air of the evening. Aki’s walls are far too thin, and his neighbors know who you are. The last thing you want is for them to see you as Aki’s fuck-buddy that moans like a bitch in heat. “Please, sweetheart.” 

Aki groans, a deep sound that reverberates all the way from his chest down to his stomach. The affectionate name twists something up in him, and Aki thrusts his hips faster, kisses your forehead, your cheeks, any part of your skin that he can get his mouth on. His hair tickles your jaw, nose nudging against your face as he mumbles into your skin, “so needy, aren’t you? I want to take my time with you, and you just want to get off.” 

“Can’t help it, Aki,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you buck your hips upward. “God, you feel so good, I lo—”

You stop the words from leaving your mouth, but Aki already knows. He’s known it for a while now, and you should be embarrassed by the fact that you can’t let him go. 

Wide blue eyes stare back at you, full of something you can’t define, but still so soft as he pulls away. He draws you closer, slides your legs around his hips before pinning your own to the bed with large, heavy palms. Aki’s built with all lean muscle, and he’s so tall — so much taller than you that it’s easy to forget because he treats you so gently. Still, he blankets your body, makes you feel small in the nicest way. 

Because you know that even though he can never commit his love to you, he’d never let anything — human or devil — lay a finger on you. You love him, you love him, you love him.

Aki follows your wishes, sinks faster inside of you as you exhale heavily. Your nails dig into his back so tightly that you start to worry you’ll break the skin. But Aki loses himself in the feeling of you, panting into your chest as he moves his hips. 

“F-fuck,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not going to last long inside you like this. Maybe I should slow down—”

“No, no, I’m close,” you stumble over your words, meeting Aki’s intense eyes, a thousand emotions relayed in them as he blinks at you. “It’s okay.”

“God,” he mutters, whispers the word between you, even though you’re certain he hasn’t believed in him for a while, and you’re not sure you do either. “I don’t deserve you.” 

You wonder if Aki meant to say that at all, so you let it go, let the words exist between you as if they were never there at all. 

His palm guides it’s way across your stomach, the touch featherlight, before he reaches for your breast, thumb flicking across your nipple. The nail catches, and you moan, almost there once more. Aki’s cock hitting all the right places, so much better than your own fingers.

“Aki,” you say his name over and over, your mind going numb from thinking about him. 

“I know,” Aki mutters against your lips, hot air ghosting across them on his exhale. “You’re okay. Let go for me, baby. Did so good for me, want you to cum on my cock.” 

His voice, so deep and rough in your ears, sends you over the edge, and a sound forces its way up your throat as you clench down on him, your cunt spasming from your orgasm. It hits you harder than you’d been anticipating, legs squeezing around Aki’s hips as you dig your toes into the mattress. 

“There we go,” Aki wipes your hair away from your face, kissing your temples, so gently that you think you might cry. It’s not fair for him to be so sweet, so loving when you know he’s going to kick you out of his apartment before the night is over. “My pretty girl. Shit,” Aki mumbles, cursing lowly before pulling out of you, quick, and spilling into his palm. It takes him less than a stroke down the length of his cock, the thick cum spurting out, falling onto your hips, beside you on the mattress. 

It’s not your mess to clean, though, and you can’t bring yourself to care. Breathing heavily, you watch Aki fumble for something on his nightstand, before he gives up, wiping his wet hand on the already soiled bedsheets. Then, he collapses down onto his side, staring, watching your chest rise and fall. 

“Aki,” you say, turning away from his eyes to stare at the ceiling, the cracked plaster, stained from water leaks. “I can’t do this anymore.” 

Silence falls across the room, and you can’t bear to look at him, refusing to see the indifference on his face. There’s nothing, he says nothing, before sitting back up, shuffling through the nightstand once more. 

The beams of streetlights sway against his silhouette, encased in a beautiful swirl of purple and navy hues. His hair seems an even darker curtain, coiling around his jaw as he hides from you, hides the emotion that was less than evident on his face. 

You sigh, and flip back on your side. 

Aki takes a few drags of the cigarette, puffing them into the stale air. It reeks, probably, in the tiny bedroom, but all you can smell is the tangy scent of Aki’s soap, the lavender that lingers on his skin, the cleanness of the linens that have been recently washed. This apartment, sometimes, feels more like home than your lonely one does, even though being with Aki is almost like being on your own, sometimes. 

“Those things are going to kill you,” you say under your breath, still fascinated by the way the smoke draws deep into his lungs, puffs out in a cloud, relaxes him easily. His veiny palms flex, long, slender fingers holding the cigarette between them. 

Aki doesn’t laugh, but it’s close to one, a snort almost, as he breathes again. “Not like I’ll be alive much longer, anyway.” 

“You sound like Himeno.” 

“Do I?” 

You sniff, and scoot up against the wall, sitting beside him. Despite your argument, you take the cigarette from him, smoke it yourself, and place your lips around the exact place where Aki’s had been. He watches with the same rapt fascination, blinking slowly, before staring at the ceiling as you had before. 

It’s Himeno he should be with now, really. Another Devil Hunter. A woman he can fuck without getting his feelings all mixed up, someone who probably understands him better than you do. He’s never loved her like he loved you, and she wouldn’t take offense to it either, you think. 

But it’s you he calls instead. It’s you who is too weak to leave.

“I’m sorry,” Aki whispers.

“So am I.” 

You reach across him, press the cigarette into the ashtray and drop what’s left of it amongst the other ends. Aki’s fingertips dance along your spine as you do so, and you wish he wouldn’t touch you, wish he’d just kick you out of the bed, toss you out of the apartment, spit at you like you weren’t anything but a whore. 

Instead, he kisses your shoulder, draws you in close, curls his tall frame around your body, and drags you back down into the bed. 

It hurts more than you want to admit, because this is what you want. You’d truly go the rest of your life, never have sex with him again, if he’d always hold you like you meant something to him. 

“I need to go home,” you say, remembering that you still haven’t eaten dinner, that you’d left your things in disarray, your clothes unfolded on your bed. There was never a reason to before, because with Aki, you’d always go home, just before the last train. You’d be tucked into your bed that same evening after a nice shower. “Aki…” 

“Stay.” He kisses your collarbone and shoulder again, throws his thigh over your own, and traps you against his body. “Please stay. You can wear that T-shirt of mine you like so much. I’ll make you breakfast. You can meet Power and Denji, and then I’ll take you home tomorrow morning.” 

You swallow, damning your weak-willed heart for succumbing so easily. Fingers curl around his wrists as you bask in his embrace, how warm he is, despite normally running so cold. “Aki,” you whisper again, tears welling along your eyelashes. “You can’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me.” 

“Do what?” His voice is just as quiet as your own, and he’s still kissing you, holding you like you’re something precious. But he is surely not that stupid about your feelings, to how he has been tearing you apart for the past year, even though you let him. 

You sniff, trying not to cry, never wanting to embarrass yourself, even if you have sobbed in his arms on numerous occasions. “You must know that I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. Even if I marry someone after you die, I’m certain your name will still be etched into the chains on my heart. I’m just a stupid, dumb girl.” 

He says nothing, and you do cry, then, tears streaming down your face as you twist away, stare out the curtained window, the thin fabric fluttering from the heat that kicks on. 

“Please don’t call me anymore. Just let me hurt for awhile, so I can get over you. You’re so selfish, so selfish, why can’t I just move on?” You bury your face in your hands, wipe your tears, try to fight against him as he pulls you into his strong chest, kisses the top of your head. Still, even then, even when you want to hate him, you’re putty in his heads, melting and craving the place in his arms that feels like home. 

“I can’t let you go,” Aki says, wiping your tears. “Fuck, I can’t — I need you. Do you understand? I need you, and I know I’m a selfish piece of shit, but I don’t want you to move on.” He frowns, clenching his jaw, twisting his expression up. “I’ll be better.” 

“Aki—”

“I’ll love you like you need, honey. I thought,” Aki scrubs his palm over his face, the other still stroking across your back. “I thought it’d make it easier, all this distance between us, to let you go. I can’t put you in danger, but I can’t stop loving you either.” 

You inhale sharply, leaning your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, committing the harmony to your memory. Who knows how much longer it will be in there, how much longer Aki will allow it to exist before he destroys himself completely. 

“Aki, you’ll never love me like I need, because you’ll always put your work first,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “I realized that a long time ago.” 

He shifts, pushing you away so you could look each other in the eye, the astounding resoluteness in his irises. How serious he was about trying to be someone he was not. “I can try.” 

You sob.

And you wish you could just say no; say no and walk away, forget his name, never answer the phone again, never call Himeno to check up and make sure he’s still breathing. 

But you can’t — it’ll never be that easy. 

Pushing him away, you rest your head back on the pillow, trying to make yourself comfortable as you turn your back to him. Perhaps, the morning will give you clarity. You’ll stay, but you’re not sure for how long. 

“I’m tired.” 

Aki curls against you, rests his arm around your hip, kisses your neck, cheek, temple. “Okay,” he relents, holding you close, chest pressed against your spine. “I meant what I said about breakfast. Maybe we can talk about it then?” 

You want to say no, but you won’t. He’ll kiss you in the morning, and you’ll kiss him back. Settle on your knees and give him a blowjob while he’s still groggy, before slipping on his T-shirt, chattering off his ear as he makes you breakfast. You’ll probably even curl your arms around his stomach from behind, stand on you tiptoes to reach the space between his shoulder blades. 

Power and Denji will come home at some point, and probably say something rude, as Aki says they do to everyone. Then you’ll go home, and you’ll still be in love with him, and Aki will forget the conversation even happened, because he’ll say anything to get you to stay. 

Or, maybe, he’s being honest. Maybe he will love you like you want him to. 

Less than likely.

“Okay, Aki,” you agree, too tired to argue or acknowledge the emptiness in your stomach. “We’ll talk about it in then.”

reblogs appreciated!! thank you for reading!

#csm x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #aki x fem!reader #aki hayakawa x you #aki x y/n #aki smut #aki hayakawa smut #nanami x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #hayakawa aki x y/n #hayakawa aki x you #aki x you #csm x y/n #csm smut #chainshaw man smut #csm x you #csm x fem!reader #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x you #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ #aki angst #aki hayakawa angst #csm imagines

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Don’t Call Him Jealous

—

Time written-6:10 p.m.

Jason Todd/fem!reader smut (I’m on mobile so image is huge, but c’mon it’s Jason. Take him in)

—

“Look at that, babe,” His hot, erotic rumble roared your heart into an irritating, intense drum in your chest, heating up the tips of your ears.

“It’s crying for me, begging me to have a taste.”

Hungry eyes kept an intense focus on the mirror in front of you both, the hardwood floor pooling with your arousal. He held both your legs junction over his propped up knees, keeping you spread open for his viewing pleasure alone.

Your bare chest heaved with sweat, perky nipples heavily flushed from countless pinches in between his thumbs. Repeated begs for him to slow down to give you an ounce of a break fell on deaf ears, a forearm secured between the valley of your tits, grasping you close as he fucked you with his fingers.

Overstimulation became your toxic lover, sparking you up in pain with the promise of pleasure, quickly following eachother in an endless loop.

Bucking away didn’t help, he’d only hook his fingers against your G-spot harder, forcing your ass back against his hard, girthy cock, swollen and throbbing for pussy behind the prison of his red gym shorts.

You were in a dress, at one point. A dress you kept in its protective plastic hanger for weeks. Now, it laid abandoned, torn and neglected scraps on the ground since the second Jason saw you in it.

What was his main concern about it? “Nothing.”

The fabric was a rich, deep silky blue, caressing your body perfectly in every way. His biggest issue was a certain cocky bastard, who’s signature color just so happens to lay in pieces on the ground.

Yes, he’d get calls and texts from the rest once they realize he failed to attend yet another Gala. Yes, they’d most likely realize that it wasn’t you who had planned to miss it in the first place.

The last thing he wanted was said certain cocky Grayson to make even so much as a thought of a snarky comment on such. Knowing him, he would.

It was all Jason; the man who didn’t bother to think of the tux he was supposed to have picked up from the dry cleaners before coming home from the gym.

All he had on hand was you, working up to your fourth climax in front of your bedroom mirror. A beautiful, erotic mess of smeared lipstick and cloudy mascara tears, moaning endlessly on his fingers before working you open on his cock.

Never catch him thinking he wasn’t a giver. It was his second favorite sport.

“Pretty, pretty,” Jason murmurs against your neck, kissing along your flushed skin. “Pretty, pretty girl. Y’know what I want, huh? Give it to me.”

“C-C-Can’t,” you exhale, both your hands clutching his working forearm, needlessly crying out broken words and drawn out cries as the fire in your tense tummy threatened to burst.

“J-Jay, J-J-Jay, I-I can’t! S’too much!!”

“Come on, babygirl. Don’t be like that, give me what I want. Come on, baby. Come on, come on.”

He urges via lustfully hasty words in your right ear, bucking his fingers deeper and faster into your stretched walls, the palm of his calloused hand directly abusing your swollen, rosy little clit.

Your nails dig deeper into his forearm, deep enough to add onto his collection of angry scars as liquid heat surges through your veins. A collection of trembling cries erupted from your quivering, rouge smeared lips as his palm grew soaked.

He grunts out a pleased groan in tandem with yours, nearly drowned out by your whimpering as if he was the one that came, forcing every nerve in your body to shiver.

“There we go,” Jason cooes, working his fingers until he picks up on those irritated, little overstimulated whines he recognized by memory, telling him to slow down without use of words.

Only, your body didn’t give him what he wanted. Almost, but not yet.

He listened for now, retreating his fingers, lingering about to pry your soaked lips apart, biting back a deep growl at your soaked, gaping pink hole.

Never more than now did he want to stuff you full, but he was working for something a little more… eye catching.

He enjoyed what he saw right now; maroon lipstick smeared off the edges of your lips, transferred onto his the second he kissed you against your mirror. Pink scratches and dabbled love bites that would morph into rich, wine bruises littering your neck and shoulders.

Red, pure red from your blooming cheeks, aroused skin, sore breasts, and abused pussy.

A dirty, surface drenching show only your body could provide, ignited by his favorite hue of color, by any means necessary. So. why stop at four?

Without a word, Jason dips a finger back inside your cavern, feeling your body nearly wince from the intrusion, a low little whine escaping your deflated lungs.

“Jasooon,” you croak, your rising hips instantly jolted back against his lap by a strong grip on your hip, followed by the click of his tongue. “Please—“

“Not done yet, Princess,” he murmurs, kissing along your neck as his other finger joins in, expertly finding your sweet spot and curling his fingers, determined to go for five.

Blue wasn’t a good color on you anyway.

#Jason Todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader smut #dc jason todd #red means he loves you #get it #I’m so smart #also I suck at titles so when I think of drabbles #I put the time I start #so yeee

[gogogodzilla]

If you take asks for Connor, I'd like a story where basically reader does connor so hard he short circuits or something along those lines and reader is like "omg are you ok???" And after a moment, he's like, "very" idk I hope I explained it well

Missed You || Connor (RK800)

Summary: You couldn't wait for date night.

Warnings: smut, afab read, semi-public sex, fingering, slight choking, Connor has a praise kink, argue w the wall

{Masterlist}

After a few months of dating, you and Connor had developed some form of a schedule. Every Saturday was date night, and this week had you particularly eager for it to arrive. You’d barely spent any time with Connor with him being stuck on a case that had him halfway across the city for most of his days and working late nights. 

Saturday night rolled around like it always did, and you paced your shared apartment in anticipation of Connor arriving. You’d both agreed on just going to a movie. It was the one you’d been dying to see, so you weren’t complaining.  

The sound of keys jingling against the lock had you practically sprinting to the front door and flinging it open. Connor looked down at you with wide eyes, his keys hovering mid-air. 

You grabbed the lapels of his usual suit jacket and brought him into a kiss. He let out a small sound of surprise against your lips but quickly melted into your grasp. He wrapped his arms around you as he nudged you further into your apartment and kicked the front door closed. 

“Missed you,” you murmured against his lips as you ran a hand through his hair. 

He slowly pulled away, taking in your features. “I just need to get changed and then we can go,” he offered, patting your hip as he released you. 

You wanted to say to hell with date night and just ravish him where he stood, but you forced yourself to nod. It’ll be worth the wait, you tried to convince yourself. 

The tension in the air was palpable as Connor emerged from the bedroom, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up. Your gaze traveled up his forearms, taking in every inch of exposed skin. He had the same idea, and his eyes raked over the hem of the dress that danced across your thighs as you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

You forced yourself to look away as you moved to grab your car keys and tossed them to Connor. “Ready?” you questioned, ignoring the way your heart was practically bursting out of your chest from the way he was looking at you. 

“Always,” Connor responded, kissing your forehead as he passed and grabbing your hand to lead you to the elevator. 

You eyed the emergency stop button as you stood far too close to Connor in the cramped elevator. No one would even notice the elevator was stopped for a few minutes, you reasoned.  

Ding!

The chime of the elevator caused you to nearly jump out of your skin, and Connor shot you a look. 

“Are you feeling okay? Your heart rate has been high ever since we left; we don’t have to go to the movie—” 

“No!” you cut him off, even though every fiber of your being was begging you to drag him back into your apartment. “I’m fine,” you assured him, resting your hand on his arm and keeping it there for far longer than you should have. 

He raised a brow, eyeing you. You ignored him and led him out to your car before hopping in the passenger seat. 

Connor wordlessly hopped into the driver’s seat, and you watched him. You wondered if the long week apart was affecting him as much as it was affecting you. You saw how he was practically undressing you with his eyes when he came home. His usual precise movements were far more controlled than they usually were, stiffening every time your skin came into contact with his. It couldn’t hurt to test the waters. 

Connor always set his right hand on the gear shift or your thigh when he was driving, and today was no exception. He loosely gripped the gear shift as he drove, gaze never leaving the road. A wise decision. 

You took his hand and placed it on its normal spot on your thigh. He glanced over at you. You could’ve sworn you saw his free hand tighten on the steering wheel, betraying the small smile that flashed across his lips.

A few minutes of comfortable silence pass, and you decide to push your luck a little further. 

“Are these pants new?” you causally questioned as you leaned over and ran a hand down his upper thigh, giving him a perfect view down the bodice of your dress. 

Connor cleared his throat and swallowed hard, “They’re the same pants I always wear.” 

You hum and move to return to your seat, your hand accidentally grazing over the place you wanted so badly. Connor sucked in a breath as he approached the red light. You grinned, bathed in crimson. 

“Connor,” you purred, lolling your head to the side to look at him. The light turned green and he pressed on the accelerator, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His eyes grazed the bare skin of your thighs before returning to the road. 

Your heart rate picked up as Connor turned down a side street in the opposite direction of the movie theater. You weren’t going to make your showing.

Connor’s movements were controlled as he picked a secluded spot to park. You were on him before he could even fully pull the keys out of the ignition, clumsily climbing over the center console. 

The keys tumbled out of Connor’s hand and clattered to the floorboard, but he didn’t seem to care as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. He pushed the seat back so you could comfortably sit, legs straddling his thighs and skirt hiked up just enough to tease him. 

“Couldn’t wait,” you murmured against his lips as you pulled away, your breaths entangling in one another. 

“You’ve been looking forward to this movie all week,” Connor teased, running a hand up the bare skin of your thigh and cupping the curve of your ass. 

You dipped down and hovered next to his ear, whispering, “I’ve also been looking forward to riding you until you short-circuit.” 

Connor’s grip tightened on your ass, and he shoved your hips down to grind against him. The tent in his pants pressed against your clothed core and caused a shudder to run through your body. 

 “Do you feel what you do to me?” he questioned, voice husky and increasing the ache in your core that had gained intensity since you left the apartment. 

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him and run a hand over his covered length. Connor jutted his hips up to meet you, groaning as you ran a hand over the smooth fabric of his pants. His nails raked up your thighs and he hooked his fingers on the waistband of your underwear and tugged hard enough for the side seams to rip, and for them to fall in his lap. 

Your gasp was quickly swallowed by his lips against yours and his fingers sliding through your folds and circling your clit. Breathy moans escaped you as you shoved your head in the crook of his neck, lazily pressing kisses to the hardly exposed skin. 

He ran a finger over your entrance and you pressed against him, begging for him to fill you. He obliged, slowly inching a finger inside of you before quickly adding another, stretching you deliciously. He pumped his fingers, savoring the way you clenched around him, aching for more. He curled his fingers inside of you, brushing against the spot that had you seeing stars, and you cried out his name, throwing your head back. 

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, grinding yourself against his fingers when he stopped his movements. “Please, Connor.” 

He removed his fingers and slipped them past your lips, making you taste yourself. You ran your tongue over the pads of his fingers as you met his gaze. He used his free hand to undo his belt, the smooth leather brushing against your thighs. 

You reached down to where your hips met, unbuttoning his pants and yanking down the zipper, impatience coursing through you. You released his length from his pants, eliciting a breathy sigh from Connor. You pumped your hand, thumb sliding over his tip and spreading the bead of precum that had formed. 

You aligned him with your entrance and you both groaned as you lowered yourself onto his length, savoring the way he stretched you. You started rocking against him, flushing as the suspension of your car squeaked with your movements. 

Connor gathered the skirt of your dress in one hand and watched as you ground against him. You dipped down to kiss him, reaching up to rest one of your hands against his throat. He twitched from within you, and he snapped his hips to meet yours. 

“So good for me,” you praise, squeezing his throat lightly as he looked up at you, eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open. 

His hands found your clit and resumed the same tight circles as before. You released your hold on his throat as you rocked your hips into his, feeling the familiar heat pooling in your stomach. 

It took no time for your release to hit you, Connor’s length finding the spot that had you moaning his name over and over again. Your release caused you to squeeze Connor’s cock, pushing him to finish directly after you. Connor lifted his hips to meet yours, and threw his head back, letting out a guttural moan. His whole body froze and tensed under you as his climax washed over him. Connor twitched inside of you as you slowed and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

After a few moments, when his eyes still hadn’t opened, you brushed a finger over his chest, relief washing over you when you felt the familiar thrumming of his bioregulator. 

“Connor?” you murmured, tapping his cheek lightly. “You alright?” 

His lashes fluttered as he slowly opened his eyes, a small smile curving into his features.  “Did I say how much I missed you?” he hummed, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“No,” you mentioned, chucking, “although, I think I have an idea.”

#detroit become human #rk800 x you #dbh x reader #dbh connor #rk800 x reader #dbh rk800 #rk800 x reader smut #connor x reader smut #connor x reader #reader insert #zilla answers

[pinkrelish]

Miss mouse: fuck I’m coming already!

Eddie: just goes even harder and manhandles her *fuck me*

nsfw 18+ wc: 753 tiny breeding kink implied

especially when eddie's lap is flush against your ass, chest pressed to your back in a sticky union of sweat building with each growing hum of the vibrator buried between your legs dialed higher by his greedy thumb.

it's not the first time he's stretched you this full, but it is your first experience taking him until he was seated to his base, bringing you to the cusp of a pleasant moan and bulling it out of you as a sudden grunt at his final push inside, trapping your pleasure between the device in his rough hand and the heaviness of his sack resting against the drips of your sopping heat spilling from where he fills you.

his humid breath coasts past your ear in huffs skating across the backs of your damp fists drawing deep into the sheet beneath you. he has you prone beneath his weight, keeping you lifted with his forearm and the toy alone. enveloping you completely, caging you with his shoulders curved over yours and his arm hooked beside your head, bicep shaking the longer he holds himself above you. your cheek becomes smashed to soft cotton and tacky skin alike, panting, panting hot and shallow with your back arching to his command, thoughts melting to the place where his besotted praise consumes you.

unutterable words fall from your kiss-bitten lips, losing them to the crook of his elbow. flipping to where your other cheek met the damp hollow, you sought fresh air for your lungs, moans gasping with desperation to tell him what your fat tongue and lust-laden eyelashes could not, fluttering shut from the burden of focusing on anything but the tension clenching around his thick cock.

"keep," you tried, "like that." the heavy purr of the toy being stroked in circles over your clit steals the rest.

he's eager, voice slipping from genuine awe to cuts of coy, "gonna—already, baby?" he asks, but he knows. he knows what your pretty whine cut short sounds like when you begin squirming, rocking your hips in the unforgiving space between your bodies—but to have it so soon?

he'd yet to move since the initial slide of his weeping tip past your point of pleasure, and now you were begging for it in the neediest way, causing him to twitch inside you at the excitement.

"please—" the softest ask "need you to fill me."

the newness of your relationship was no match for the dirtiness of your request. "fuck, baby." his praise mixes with yearn for your tight cunt creaming around him. "gonna make me cum like that. you want it? you want all of it? wanna make you full?"

cresting to the peak of your climax with his lips, teeth, tongue, and ragged breath at your jaw coinciding with the heavy drag of his cock learning which spot unravels you fastest, he channels the brink of his own undoing into keeping you still.

his hand is a force to be reckoned with on your hip. digging fingertips around the cup of bone, flesh bruising beneath his flustered grip; he had let go of the vibrator, and you took over, grinding onto him from the overstimulation, fucking up onto his cock with deviousness, eyes glinting in the same low lamplight which struck love in his.

you strain to watch his expression arc prettily from your writhing. the crease between his eyebrows knits tighter—red cheeks going slack from his mouth hung open on a disjointed moan. his messy hair curtains you both, curly ends tickling your skin with every erratic thrust he surrenders to.

he moves his knee up beside your hip, brushing his hairy leg along your thigh, peeling his chest away to drive into you deeper, putting an ache in your spine as you became his one sense, his one purpose, slapping skin on skin in a wet mess of your orgasm painting his lap, pumping his length until its coated and your puffy pussy is ready for him.

his pace stutters to a beautiful collapse, and he chokes out, "makin' you mine." and it's not dirty talk, it's a promise. with the soreness of his hard spank to the side of your ass, his muscles draping about you with animal restraint, and a voice made of primal gold, he reminds you of whats leaking down the backs of your thighs, "let's clean that up, and then we'll go again, yeah? and please, sweetheart, last a little longer this time," he finishes in taunt and pride.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #the yes policy

[luvrxbunny]

homecoming ─ ★ joel miller x f! reader

a/n: i wrote this at like 3:30am 🦢

wc: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ MNDI, really light choking, dry humping, piv, some praise, oh and some hair pulling but i feel like joel miller smut = some hair pulling.. with me at least cus like.. THE CURLS (not proofread and much longer than intended)

okay so Joel coming back from a trip, maybe it wasn’t even super long, a week or so but nothing you guys haven’t weathered before.

but for some reason; maybe it’s been a long time since he was away from you for even a day.. Joel all but loses his mind without you.

it’s like he goes into heat or something. like his body knows that he can’t have you and suddenly its craving you 10x its usual amount.

he comes back late at night, near midnight. all the guys wanted to take shelter for the night, arrive at the community in the morning but Joel hadn’t mentally prepared himself for another night without you. he refused to go another night without you.

you’re snug in bed when he crawls in. you’re pulled from your sleep by the dip in the bed but you instantly recognize the broad chest pressing against your back.

you gasp and bury your hand in his hair as quickly as possible. you reach over his face as he gives your neck a kiss and presses closer to you, poking you in the back with a feeling you’ve missed.

“is this okay? i’ve missed you so much, love.” you only hum in response, arching your back so he can grind against the plush of your ass, an opportunity he graciously accepts. he groans low and rough into the back of your neck as he starts humping you. “we can stop if you’re sleepy, baby.. shit.” his arm comes to wrap around you.

his forearm stretches diagonally across your torso as he cups your blood with his palm, using you for leverage to grind himself more forcefully into your ass. “could- oh god.. mmm we could w-wait for— until the—”

“baby, shut up.” is all you mumble before twisting to finally devour his lips in a kiss that he whines into. whines

his frantic humping turns into purposeful grinding as you pull away. his breathing is more erratic than you’ve ever heard it. his eyes are shut as tightly as his hand is gripping your hip, surely leaving dents in your skin.

you turn back around to bury your face in the pillow in front of you, too uncomfortable with your body twisted but leaving your hand to play with his hair. “needed me this bad, baby?”

you try to sound teasing, dominant but instead the question comes out high and breathy, sounds as desperate as he’s acting.

all you get in response is a growl from Joel before his hand leaves your boob to flip your body around, letting you face him, letting you— for the first time— really take in his disheveled state.

his hair is mussed— definitely your doing, but his lips are red and bitten, presumably from holding in his sounds to not disturb the silence of the night. his eyes are blown wide, glinting with a crazed look as he grinds into you gently.

he has his hand on your thigh, your leg pulled over his hip do he can grind right into your core, sending convulsions throughout your body.

after taking him in you meet his eyes again and he crumbles. whimpering a loose form of your name before burying his face in your neck and inhaling your scent as his hand coming to your lower back to press your body into his.

“i’ve needed you more that air, dove. been craving your soft body, your- fuck- your sweet sounds.” his voice gets high near the end of the sentence, only reminding you of his need. “swear i’ve been seeing you in the stars at night. m’losin my goddamn mind over ya’.”

his desperation is leaking into your veins now, the same way you’ve started to seep into your underwear, growing tired and teased with Joel’s incessant movements against you.

you stay silent, let him release wet moans into your skin as you take matters into your own hands.

you grab his waist band and pull the buttons apart so roughly you may have broken them. you keep up your urgent demeanor as you free his cock from its confines.

his hips don’t stop moving as you fumble with his pants, he grinds against the air, your hands and your wrists, anything he can reach.

he moans your name when you wrap your hand around him but his breath is stolen as you quickly pull your panties aside and shove him in.

he’s surrounded in your wet warmth before he can take another breath. the same heat he’s been dreaming of, craving, fiending for over the course of the past week.

his head is finally pulled from your neck as he sits up a bit with his hand on your throat, his index finger and thumb holding your jaw in place as he forces you to look him in the eye.

his brows are furrowed and there’s a look of confusion and a softness that feels like begging in his eyes. you’re waiting for him to scold you, remind you who’s in charge, that you don’t do anything without his permission first. but instead he just pants against you, incapable of taking even breaths as his hips twitch softly and against his will into you.

you hold his eye contact as your hands come to the base of his spine, pressing down and curving his hips into you, guiding his slow and gentle thrusts.

his face crumples in pleasure, all his features scrunching in as he tries not to moan into your face. his hand twitches on your throat before tightening again as he leans down to press you against his forehead before resting his cheek on yours as he finally releases all the sounds he’s been holding in.

first you get a guttural groan, something that sounds like it came from the depths of his chest; low and rumbling. as his hips begin to move on their own accord, his moans change. they become more urgent, short and cut off as he tries to catch his breath. every now and then it sounds like the first syllable of your name but he’s never able to get the full thing out. “there you go, sweetheart. just like that.”

you try and stay composed as you guide him but he’s ramming into your g-spot like he’s been searching for it for weeks. your brain is turning to mush, melting out of your ears. when Joel pulls his face away from yours, wanting to examine your state, he can tell. he can tell that you’re not all there, that you’re holding on by a thread for him. it fills his chest with pride.

you watch a lazy smirk slide over his face as his hooded eyes meet yours. “it’s okay, baby.. m’here now.”

Joel lifts one of your legs, gripping your thigh and pushing it to meet your chest. “you don’t gotta be all tough anymore.” it feels as though he’s opened up a new channel inside your pussy, like he’s reaching places that weren’t accessible before. like he’s reached heaven, inside you. “you can let go, darlin’.”

you explode.

its that godforsaken southern drawl of his. whenever he talks to you in his low, smooth voice, like pouring warm honey right into your ear, filling your brain with sweetness. you have no choice but to fall apart. you hadn’t even been aware of how badly you’d been craving him.

you knew you missed him of course, but you thought you’d be satisfying yourself decently in his absence.

you obviously had forgotten when your orgasms feel like when they belong to Joel.

it feels like your body falls completely apart. you don’t feel attached your limbs anymore. all you can feel is the warmth blossoming violently in your abdomen. your thighs shake, and Joel tightens his grip, wanting to feel the rippling muscles under his palm.

he watches your brows furrow as your eyes roll back. you go limp in his arms, your entire body relaxed as your soak his cock in your juices.

Joel fucks into you at a leisurely pace, forgetting his desperation in favor of watching you melt into the bed. but as he thrusts he watches you slowly coat his cock, giving him a milky sheen, an award for his actions and a reminder of your own craving for him.

it’s more than a punch in the gut, it’s like he’s been completely winded, like someone has punctured his lungs and crushed his heart inside his chest.

he gasps once and sees your eyes snap open to his, waiting and watching as his body folds in on itself to fill you with its seed.

Joel almost falls on top of you, his arm catching him before he lowers himself into your lips. he’s too busy moaning your name and praises to kiss you properly. he rests his lips against yours as his mind clears, blank and thoughtless, finally satiated after a week of driving him crazy.

his body weight slowly increases as he blankets you, his cock pulsing inside you gently, gently pumping pent up ropes of cum into you despite the small amount already leaking onto your thighs.

“love you s’much.” Joel mumbles groggily into your ear. his hand comes up to stroke your head, soothing you as he notices your rapid heartbeat. “you’re my perfect girl, y’know that? everything i dream of, everything pure.” you feel that terrifying warmth spread through your chest, that intense, buzzing love that blooms in your chest whenever he opens his mouth.

“i know, joey.” your hand slides out of his hair and down his back, scratching gently and relishing in the way you feel his chest rumble with a contented hum. “i love you so much more, y’know that?”

he chuckles softly before biting you semi-gently. “no way.” he sighs against your skin. “ain’t possible.” he licks over his teeth marks before kissing them.

his lips just barely ghost over the area as he falls asleep, his cock warm and soaked inside you.

a horrid surprise for Tommy when he tries to welcome his brother home with a “gourmet” breakfast in bed service.

#i just love desperate guys #especially when they’re big and tough #like.. #THIS is what makes you fall apart? #my pussy? #awwww #babyyyy #ur so sweet #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller story #joel miller self insert #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller age gap #cus always and ofc #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller hbo #joel miller headcanon #joel miller blurb

[joelscruff]

one thing i'm missing (joel miller x reader) PART FOUR

okay wow, so since the last chapter i've somehow hit 200 followers and have received so much lovely praise for this fic ;-; you guys have no idea how much i appreciate it. life has not been going great for me lately and having this outlet + such a great response has been such a bright light for me. i can't thank you all enough. i'm estimating that this fic will probably end up being six parts total, so look forward to those! i'm also open to writing requests & suggestions for other fics so feel free to send me an ask anytime! without further ado, here's part four :) PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | ao3 summary: you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: (for this chapter) smut, age difference (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 50s), praise kink, (slight) dirty talk, grinding, handjobs, fingering word count: about 6.5k (yup)

You awoke in the early hours of the morning and slowly opened your eyes, hints of sunrise trickling through the cabin window and illuminating the dust that danced around the room. It took a few seconds to reconnect yourself to the new location, your gaze shifting to the chair in the corner of the room that still held yours and Joel's coats. Your lips parted in a breathless realization, the memory of last night flooding into your mind.

“I've got you,” he'd murmured, “Keep goin', don't think about it.”

You stared at the coats, heart racing as you remembered the way he'd held you so close to him while you came completely undone, helped you rut against him until you got what you needed, til he gave you what you needed. The way he'd groaned in your ear when you brushed against his groin, whispered “good girl” to you like it was a secret.

You swallowed, feeling the familiar throb in your underwear, recalling the thick strength of his thigh between your legs...

A rustle of movement behind you brought you back to the current moment, and you finally registered that Joel was still in bed with you, spooning you from behind again, arms wound comfortably around your torso. You couldn't help but smile and without any hesitation you shuffled back further into his embrace, tilting your head back slightly so he was nosing your hair.

You heard him hum softly, arms tightening around you. You looked down and felt your skin get hot when you saw how large his hands were, one placed atop your belly while the other had snaked its way up to your sternum, almost between your breasts. He was so strong but he held you so tenderly, forearms freckled with nicks and cuts that made your heart ache; you wanted to kiss every single one.

“You awake?” you whispered, not too loud in case he was still sleeping.

He gave you an affirming grunt but didn't actually say anything, the tip of his nose tickling the back of your neck. You shivered and leaned back even further so his body was fully enveloping yours, savouring the moments before he was fully awake and would inevitably pull himself away from you. You felt something prod at your lower back and you froze, breath hitching.

Guiltily you remembered falling asleep ridiculously quickly the night before without helping him find his own release, meaning he must have fallen asleep absolutely aching. You'd felt how hard he was while you were on top of him; it must have been torture for him to watch you have the best orgasm of your life and then pass out without so much as a thank you. That torture was seemingly still ongoing, the shape of him firm and stiff against the swell of your ass.

Well, it wasn't too late to thank him now.

Hesitating for barely a moment, you began to rotate your hips, slow and steady, pushing back against the hard feeling of him through his jeans. You felt his arms suddenly stiffen around you, brow furrowing against the back of your neck.

“What are you doin'?” he murmured.

“Nothing,” you pushed back even further, feeling the unmistakable pulse of arousal in your own jeans at the sound of his voice.

He was definitely fully awake now, and as he went to move his arms you reached up to hold them back in place, hands atop his own.

“You don't have to-”

“Shhh,” you ground yourself against him a bit harder and you felt him gasp, breath warm against your skin, “I want to.”

It didn't take much for him to surrender completely to the feeling of you being so close to him, inhaling and exhaling unevenly in your ear as you continued to rub your ass against his groin. Your hands loosened on top of his and he took the opportunity to move the one that was on your belly and carefully slide it inside the confines of your shirt, palming the skin there. You whimpered at the contact, grinding yourself even harder against him.

The silence of the cabin, the stillness of the air outside in the early morning light, it gave you that peculiar feeling of being somehow present in the world but also not. It was so easy to pretend when you were alone with him, so easy to feel like you were both the only souls to exist on this post-apocalyptic plane of America, of planet Earth. The only sounds in the entire world were the hitches of breath, the soft whispers, the quiet moans and whimpers that the two of you made together, melting into one.

“Feels so good,” he whispered breathlessly in your ear, nuzzling his face against your cheek. Without needing to ask, you reached blindly behind you for his belt buckle, pulling at the cold square of metal.

“Take this off,” you breathed, stilling your hips momentarily, and he removed his hand from your sternum to reach down and start to undo it, brushing against your fingers with every motion. When he'd pulled the leather from the straps you helped him to yank the long strip of material out from underneath the both of you, tossing it to the floor. You felt him pop the button on his jeans and your hand began to shake on it's own accord as you reached for his zipper.

He stopped you, enveloping your hand in his before you could tug it down, “You sure?” he asked softly, “We can stop-”

You suddenly flipped over so you were facing him, and your heart stuttered when you saw the look on his face; he was wrecked, eyes dark and blown wide, forehead tinged with sweat, splotches of red blooming along his neck and collarbone. It had been so dark last night, you hadn't been able to see what Joel looked like when he was turned on. Now as you looked at him and saw the desire in his eyes, the bob of his Adam's apple as he gazed back at you and swallowed, the way his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath, you felt any and all hesitation leave your body. You gripped his zipper with your thumb and forefinger and slowly began to pull it down, the room still quiet save for the sharp sound of metal coming undone in your fingers – it was practically pornographic. He kept his eyes on you, lips parted as he tried to get his breathing under control.

His underwear became exposed, framing the long and thick curve of him perfectly. You heard his breath hitch when your knuckles brushed lightly against him as you finished with the zipper, and your eyes snapped back up to find his again. He was still staring at you, watching your expression, gauging your reaction. Without breaking eye contact you moved your hand up to cup him gently, palming his girth and feeling your face get hot when you realized your fingers wouldn't even go all the way around him.

“Oh wow,” you whispered, voice squeaking a little bit as you stroked him once through his underwear, “You're big.”

He groaned in response, closing his eyes finally and throwing his head back against the pillows. You couldn't help but laugh breathlessly, fingers trembling a little bit in anticipation, “Can I take it out?”

He physically shuddered at your words, jaw tightening as he brought his hands up to his face. He pressed his palms against his eyes, inhaling deeply, “Yeah,” he replied, voice shaky, “But I won't last long.”

“That's okay,” you whispered, reaching for the band of his underwear.

BANG.

Your heads snapped up immediately, both of you freezing as you stared at the closed bedroom door in confusion.

“Joel, you in this one?” Ellie called out from the opposite side.

You both flung yourselves away from each other like you'd been electrocuted, toppling out of the bed like you were in a Saturday morning cartoon. Joel yanked the zipper of his jeans back up and you threw him his belt, then pulled yourself up from the floor to stand wordlessly across from him. You both stared at each other for a few seconds as he did himself back up, eyes wide in panic.

“Joel?” Ellie called again, followed by your name, “Anybody in here?”

“Gimme a sec,” he replied loudly, voice deep and rough, “Gettin' dressed. You alright?”

“Yeah, just wanna go to the springs. I'll wait outside,” she called back, and you heard the front door slam again.

You looked at each other, both still panic-stricken. After a few seconds of shocked silence you reached down and grabbed your pack, throwing it over your shoulder, “You go out front and lead her back toward her cabin, I'll sneak into the one next door.”

“That works” he replied breathlessly, eyes scanning you up and down, “Listen, I'm sorr-”

“No, I'm sorry, I didn't think she'd be up yet,” you tossed him his coat and gestured toward the bedroom door, “Now go, before she gets suspicious.”

With one last parting glance, Joel shrugged his coat on and turned on his heel to leave, shutting the bedroom door behind him and leaving you standing alone. It was only when he was gone that you fully allowed yourself to feel the weight of what you'd almost just done, your hand clenching around nothing as you stood in the centre of the room trying to catch your breath. You'd touched him; you'd basically asked if you could give him a hand job and he'd said yes.

There was no question anymore of whether or not he wanted you, that was for sure. But whether you'd talk about it or he'd broach the subject again was completely up in the air. This thing you shared – whatever it was – you hadn't spoken one word about it to each other. He wanted you, sure, but in what way? Did he just want you to touch him, for you to get him off like he got you off? Or did he feel something deeper for you, something strong and warm like you felt for him? How were you even supposed to figure out what exactly he wanted when you hadn't even had one conversation about what had been going on? You clenched your jaw, shaking your head and inhaling the stale, dusty air; you didn't have time to think about this right now, you had to get yourself into the next cabin without Ellie noticing. The last thing you needed was for her to start asking questions about a relationship you yourself couldn't even define.

You did your best to quietly leave the cabin, slipping stealthily into the one next door when you were sure Joel had led Ellie back up the path. A few minutes later you walked out onto the front porch with heavy footfalls that made them both turn to look, yawning loudly on purpose and waving in their direction.

“Morning, losers!” you called, “Let's go see some hot springs!”

-

It turned out that in her excitement for the springs Ellie had woken up much earlier than the two of you, which explained her sudden appearance this morning. Out of boredom she'd meticulously organized all the products you'd found the previous day into piles, resulting in each of you now carrying your own personalized bath-care bag as you set out for the springs. You rummaged through yours, smiling at the strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner she'd chosen for you; you'd told her once, maybe about three months back, that you loved strawberries. The fact that she'd remembered made your heart warm. She'd also packed you an unopened women's razor and toothbrush, along with some body wash and a towel.

“You trying to tell me something?” you teased, waving the razor in her face as the three of you walked down the overgrown path to the springs.

She laughed and reached into her own bag, pulling out an identical razor, “Just that I need you to show me how to use this thing. My pits are itchy as fuck.”

Joel chuckled at that, “Try having five times that amount all over you.”

His comment immediately sparked the image of that patch of hair that trailed from his belly to his groin, the hair you'd become very familiar with in the past few hours. You swallowed and adjusted your pack absentmindedly, trying to focus on Ellie's retort.

“You could use a shave, honestly,” she was saying, making a face, “Who knows what's living in all that shit.”

“Oh, ha ha, you're hilarious,” he rolled his eyes and slowed his pace a bit to gesture to his own bag, “If you really thought I needed to shave you would've packed me a razor too.”

“Okay, true,” she conceded, “But that's just because I was scared you'd shave off your beard and I don't want you to. You'd look weird without it.”

“I agree,” you said, probably a bit too quickly, and he turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow, “What? Beards are hot.”

It had slipped out before you could really think about how it would sound, and you saw the flash of something on his face that didn't last long enough to register. It was hard to read the expression that remained but he suddenly turned back around before you could get a good look. You looked at Ellie and she was eyeing you with her own unreadable expression.

“What?” you asked, feeling your cheeks go red, “They are, right?”

She scrunched up her nose in response, “I think I'm the wrong person to ask, sister.”

-

The springs could not have been more picturesque; there were two of them situated atop a small cliff face that overlooked the forest below, patches of snow covering hints of the rocky terrain. One was large and wide, probably big enough to comfortably fit thirty people, while the other one was more secluded and separated by the tree line for those seeking a more private experience. Without hesitation Ellie sprinted toward the big one and dipped her hand inside, jaw dropping when she felt the undeniable warmth of its depths.

“It's actually like a bath!” she called to you and Joel in delight, “Holy fucking shit!”

Joel turned to you and smiled, eyes reaching yours and capturing your full attention for a few seconds. It was the first time he'd made full eye contact with you since you'd left the cabin, and you felt heat rise in your cheeks at the memory of what had occurred between the two of you in bed, your hand on him and his eyes on you. The way he looked at you now, it was like he was trying to tell you something, but you weren't sure what.

“So how we doin' this?” Ellie interrupted, appearing at your side once more.

“What do you mean?”

“Well if we're actually gonna get clean we're gonna have to take our clothes off,” she made a face at Joel, “And no offence but I really don't want to see you naked.”

“Ellie,” Joel admonished, rolling his eyes, “Obviously you'll both stick to one and I'll stick to the other, which one do you want?”

“Whichever one is more shallow,” she replied immediately.

“Oh shit, right, you can't swim,” Joel's brow furrowed and he looked at you again, “Watch her, make sure she doesn't drown herself.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” you gave him a salute and he made an exasperated face.

“You're both ridiculous.”

Ellie grinned, “Thank you, so are you.”

“I'll test the small one, see how deep it is,” you shrugged off your pack and walked through the line of trees to the more secluded spring, leaving Joel and Ellie to squabble playfully behind you.

This one was definitely more tranquil than the large one, the thick greenery almost entirely muting the sound of Ellie bothering Joel beyond the treeline. The water was clear and still, a hint of steam rising like a halo above it. Anticipation of the promised warmth overtaking you, you kicked off your boots and unbuttoned your jeans, pulling them off and wincing at the sting of cold air that hit your skin. You climbed into the water without much hesitation and sighed deeply in satisfaction at the way the warm liquid lapped against your bare legs.

You took a few steps until you were almost to the centre of the spring, then had no choice but to lift up your shirt as the water became level with your abdomen. You kept your bra on, reminding yourself that as much as you wanted to just completely engulf yourself in the water with no inhibitions whatsoever, Ellie came first. Your feet still touching the rocky bottom, you reached the centre and grinned: perfectly safe, no drowning risk in water this shallow.

“We'll use this one, Ellie!” you called through the trees, not wanting to extricate yourself from the water now that you were used to the heat. No one responded and you huffed to yourself, cupping your hands around your mouth, “Come use this one!”

The shuffle of boots and rattling of gear broke the quietness of the clearing and you froze when you saw both Ellie and Joel appear, the latter stopping completely in his tracks when he saw you standing in the middle of the spring wearing nothing but your bra and underwear, t-shirt hanging from the back of your neck. Your eyes locked onto his, lips parting in surprise. You hadn't expected him to come with her.

“Awesome!” Ellie was already unzipping her coat and throwing it to the ground, reaching for her boots, “Joel, leave, I wanna get in.”

She seemed completely unaware of his genuine shock behind her, still standing there looking at you with wide eyes. Unconsciously you felt your mouth close and your lips turn up into a smile, not breaking eye contact as you continued to stand there with your bra completely on display. It's not like it was anything special, just a basic white sports bra that had gradually yellowed a bit over time, but you doubted Joel had seen a woman this bare in months, not since Tess. You watched as his gaze shifted from your eyes to your breasts and back to your eyes again, like he was self conscious about what he saw there.

You looked down at your chest and you felt your heart stutter a bit when you noticed that your bra had gotten slightly wet, your nipples peeking through the semi-transparent fabric. So that's what was making him so flustered. You looked up at him again and smiled wider, sheepishly, flirtatiously. His face had turned bright red.

“Joel,” Ellie finally turned to look at him, sounding exasperated as she finished untying her laces, “Leave.”

His eyes broke away from you and he cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding to Ellie and taking a few steps back, “Yeah, sorry. I'll uh- I'll be in the other one.”

You watched him go, unable to stop smiling as he tripped a bit in his rush to clear the area. You couldn't get over the fact that it was you that had him all hot and bothered, his hard exterior cracking away more and more the longer you allowed yourself to be close to him. Maybe he held the cards when it came to the definition of your relationship, but when it came to sex... yeah, you definitely had the power.

-

The spring was heaven; you hadn't bathed in hot water since you were back at Tommy's, and even then you'd only been able to take a quick shower. Now you revelled in the feeling of getting clean, the smoothness of your skin after you took the razor to the hair that had been slowly getting thicker around your ankles, the silkiness of your scalp after you'd masked it in conditioner. After showing Ellie how to use her razor you'd both turned away from each other, sitting on opposite sides of the spring to fully unclothe yourselves and bask in the luxuriousness, pretending you were both completely alone. The only sounds filling the clearing were the occasional splash of water and the birds chirping throughout the trees, calm and welcoming.

After a long period without conversation, Ellie spoke, “So you and Joel, huh.”

You froze, “Um, what?”

You could practically hear her roll her eyes, “I'm not an idiot. I see how he looks at you.”

Despite being shocked by her apparent knowledge of the situation, your heart skipped a beat at her comment, “H-how does he look at me?”

“Like he wants to jump your bones.”

You spluttered a bit, completely unsure of what to say and hating that you couldn't turn around to face her. Instead, you shuffled forward and grabbed the towel she'd packed for you, wrapping it around yourself.

“Put your towel on so we can actually talk properly,” you said, wincing at the squeak in your voice.

“I'm already dressed,” she replied, and you spun around in confusion. She wasn't lying; she was no longer in the spring and had somehow slipped back into her clothes without alerting you. She was sitting against one of the nearby trees, doodling in her journal.

“How long have you just been sitting there?”

“Maybe ten minutes, my skin was getting all wrinkly,” she scrunched up her nose, “It was gross.”

You wrapped the towel firmly around yourself and exited the water, walking around the edge of it barefoot until you reached the place where she sat. You seated yourself on a nearby rock, wracking your brain for what exactly you were going to say. She just kept doodling, eyes on the paper.

“What are you drawing?” you asked awkwardly.

“Nunya.”

Your brow furrowed, “What?”

“Nunya business,” she looked up at you then with a sly smile and you couldn't help but laugh.

“Okay, book down, we need to talk.”

She sighed but obeyed, closing her journal and turning her full attention to you.

“Me and Joel, we've been.... well, there's something...” you scratched at the back of your neck, “He... him and I, we...”

Ellie made an exasperated sound, “You're together, just say it.”

You winced, “We're not, though. That's the thing. Nothing's actually happened.” It was a lie but you couldn't very well tell a fourteen year old that you'd almost gotten to third base with her pseudo-father this morning.

“But you've like... kissed.”

You looked at her sheepishly, “Uh, no. We haven't kissed.”

She seemed genuinely surprised by that, raising her eyebrows in confusion, “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

You sat there for a few seconds in silence, Ellie seemingly lost in thought for a moment before she spoke again.

“But you want to kiss him, right?”

You blushed, “Uh, yeah.”

“So what's stopping you?” her face suddenly became serious, “It's not me, is it? 'Cause I don't care, really. Like yeah it's kinda awkward but that's just because we're all so close to each other all the time, so if you needed me to disappear for a little bit I could. I mean, I've been trying to give you guys your space at night, you know, and-”

You put your hand up, eyes going wide, “Stop. You've been doing what at night?”

She stared at you like it seemed obvious, “I've been sleeping further away from you guys so you could have some time alone together.”

You stared, mouth popping open in disbelief.

“Why else do you think I vetoed the 'let's all stay in one cabin' idea last night?” she picked up her journal again and flipped to a specific page, then began to read aloud: “Sleeping in the cabin with the duck sign tonight. The lovebirds are in the sheep one, I think. Joel is so predictable.” she closed the book again and looked at you with a guilty smile, “I told you, I'm not an idiot.”

You just continued to stare at her, mouth open.

“Come on, it can't be that surprising.”

“Um, yeah,” you finally spoke, leaning back on the rock and throwing your hands up in the air, “We literally thought you were traumatized.”

Her eyebrows scrunched together, “By what?”

“By that...that...” you didn't want to say his name, “That monster. The guy from the resort.”

She nodded slowly, processing your reply, “Him? I mean... yeah, I guess that makes sense,” her brow furrowed, “but honestly, I don't think about him much at all, not unless I have to. He's not worth my time.” She looked at you again with a shrug, “I think I've seen too much shit at this point for anything to actually fuck me up that bad.”

Your expression softened, “Ellie, that's not something to be proud of.”

“I know, but it's helpful.”

You sighed, bringing your hands to your face in defeat, “Joel is gonna kill you, you know. He's been so worried about you, we both have.”

“Eh, he'll be fine. He's about to get a girlfriend, right?” she gave you a shit-eating grin, “Can't stay mad too long when he's gettin' some.”

You made a face and swung your arm at her, slapping her shoulder lightly, “Okay, you're not allowed to say shit like that.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up, tossing her journal back into her pack, “I'm gonna head back to the cabins if that's okay. I'm starving and that Chef Boyardee stuff is calling my name.”

“Okay, just let me get dressed and I'll-”

She put her hand up, “Nope, you're staying here. I saw how much you were enjoying the springs, you should get back in and relax a little while longer.”

You raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean you saw? We've been facing away from each other.”

She stared at you, mouth closing into a firm line as her cheeks began to flush a bright red.

“Ellie, were you drawing me?”

“...I gotta go,” she threw her pack over her shoulder and began to run back down the path, leaving you standing there with your mouth agape, “I'll save some for you!”

“Ellie!” you called after her, “I hope you know we're gonna have to talk about this!”

“Can't hear you!”

“ELLIE!”

“Get back in the water, loser!” was the last thing you heard her say as her footfalls faded into the trees.

Exasperated, you pulled yourself from the rock and dropped your towel, turning around and flopping into the warm water. You weren't even going to bother trying to process that information right now.

Instead you just let the water claim you again, floating on your back and closing your eyes as it rocked you gently back and forth. You basked in the peace for about a minute before you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the brush.

“Ellie, I don't have my towel on,” you warned, rolling over to stand in the water, covering your chest with your hands, “I thought you were-” You froze when you saw who had actually emerged from the treeline.

“I heard yelling,” Joel practically gasped out, standing there completely frozen.

He was wearing absolutely nothing except for his jeans, which he'd seemingly haphazardly yanked on in his efforts to get to you quickly. They weren't buttoned, hanging off his hips loosely and exposing the hair that lay soft against his pubic bone, trailing upwards past his stomach and to his now visible abdomen and chest. His skin was taut, goosebumps tickling his bare flesh from the cold air, his nipples – framed lightly with grey hair – peaked and hard. Your gaze finally reached his face and his eyes had gone dark, lips parted with puffs of hot hair escaping his mouth with every breath. He was staring at you, not even bothering to try and hide the way his eyes fell to your chest, almost like he could see past the hands that cupped your breasts.

“She's gone back to the cabins,” you said quietly, almost too much so that you thought he might not hear you, but he did. He took another step toward you.

“Is she okay?” he practically whispered.

“Yeah, she was just giving me some alone time.”

His eyes trailed slowly down your body to where your skin met the water, where it lapped at your belly, leaving the other part of you that he clearly wanted to look at invisible beneath.

“Jesus Christ,” he took another step, “Look at you.”

You felt your face burn, biting your lip and feeling incredibly vulnerable as his gaze penetrated you. You felt yourself start to throb beneath the water and you crossed your legs unconsciously as he brought his eyes back up to look at your face.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, taking another step, “Tell me to go and I will.”

You shook your head slowly, “Don't go.”

He stopped at the edge of the water, his expression suddenly pained as he peered at you, “I mean it,” the words were a murmur now, almost impossible to hear, “If I get in with you... if I-” he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, “If you don't want me, you gotta tell me now.”

“I want you,” you said it immediately, earnestly, voice barely a whisper, “Please.”

Keeping his eyes on you, he reached down and slipped out of his jeans, throwing them behind him. Your heart began to pound as he entered the water, eyes staying locked on his face, knowing full well that he was now completely naked but too nervous to look down at him. Instead, you slowly brought your hands down from your chest, your breasts on display to him as he traipsed through the water toward you. You expected his gaze to fall, but he never unlocked his eyes from yours, not even when he was suddenly standing directly in front of you.

“Say it again,” he whispered, and you felt his hand at your waist, gently brushing the skin there; you shivered.

“W-what?” you were completely intoxicated by his closeness, the musky smell of the body wash he'd used suddenly the only thing you could sense, surrounding you in a cloud of pure masculinity. He was so tall, so broad, so strong. You could barely think straight.

“Tell me you want me,” he breathed.

Instead of giving him a vocal response, you reached down between the two of you and felt for the firm length of his cock beneath the water; he was hard, long and solid at your fingertips. You wrapped your fingers around him as far as they would go and watched as he fell apart beneath your touch, brow furrowing in pleasure as he groaned, guttural and low. You leaned your head forward and buried your face in his warm chest, his coarse hair brushing against your cheeks.

“I want you,” you repeated against his skin, slowly dragging your hand up and down his shaft, shuffling closer so you felt the hot tip of it against your bare thigh, “Want you so bad, Joel.”

“Fuck,” he practically whimpered, and you felt his hand come up to cradle the back of your head like he'd done last night, holding you to his body, “Just like that, baby, just like that.”

You whined at the name, shivering when you felt his other hand press flat against your lower back, pulling you even closer to him. The head of his cock prodded at your lower belly and you couldn't help but look down, watching it breach the surface of the water, wide and dark. You stared at it, felt yourself literally begin to salivate as he fucked your fist, crossed your legs together even tighter when you looked up again to see that he was staring at you, slack-jawed and wrecked.

“This is what I wanted to do this morning,” you said softly to him, voice shaking slightly as the hand that wasn't on his cock trailed down his chest, “Just wanted to make you come, like you made me come.”

He made another throaty sound, the hand that had cradled your head moving down to cup your ass, “Fuck, I loved watching you come,” he moaned, squeezing one of your cheeks gently in his palm, “Prettiest thing I ever saw.”

You blushed, continuing to stroke him as you both breathed heavily and felt the warmth of the water, the warmth of each other completely overtake you. You pressed your forehead to his chest again and crossed your legs impossibly tighter.

“Don't do that,” he whispered, hand moving down beneath the water to grip your thigh, “Don't hide from me, not now.” Without any convincing necessary, you uncrossed your legs and allowed him to slip his hand between your thighs, thumb pressing gently against your clit. You moaned breathlessly, biting down on your lip. “Feel good, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes,” you whimpered against his chest as you felt his thumb rotate tenderly against the sensitive nub. His fingers were so thick and wide, everything about him was thick and wide. You could already feel yourself starting to fall apart when he ever so gently pushed his index finger inside of you, making you physically shake, “Joel.”

“That's it,” he murmured, “Love it when you say my name,” you began to stroke him faster and he grunted, deep and loud, “You were sayin' it in your sleep last night, do you remember?” his finger was now fully sheathed inside of you, hot and tight, “Moanin' it. Was I in your dream, baby?”

“Yes,” you whined.

“What was I doin'?” he carefully began to push his middle finger inside of you alongside the index, the stretch burning you slightly in the best way possible, “Was it like this? My fingers? Or was somethin' else deep in there?” he thumbed at your clit again, making your mouth pop open.

You couldn't remember the specific details of the dream you'd had, the one that had ended with you waking up riding Joel's thigh, but you could remember the main gist of it, which was pretty much exactly what was happening right now. It was almost too good to be true, too crazy similar to be reality. For a moment you feared you were about to wake up again, but then Joel slowly began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, and you knew this feeling had to be real.

“I don't remember,” you whispered into his skin, “But you were there, you were holding me close like this in the water,” you gripped his cock tighter in your fist, “Didn't want you to let me go.”

“I'm not gonna let you go, baby,” he murmured, breath hot in your ear, “I'm right here, never leavin'.” His breaths were becoming more frantic, erratic; you knew he was close. And so were you. “God, your hand feels so fucking good around my cock.”

His words were almost as penetrating as his fingers, and you gasped when you suddenly felt his other hand at your breast, teasing your nipple with his thumb and forefinger. You bit down hard on your lip again, keening at the overwhelming sensation of being so desired, so claimed. He mirrored your moan, eyes closing as he gently tweaked your nipple and squeezed your clit at the same time, making you clench around his fingers.

“I'm coming,” you managed to gasp out, hand stilling on his cock, “Oh god, Joel.”

“Come for me, pretty girl, show me,” he whispered breathlessly, “Show me how good it feels.”

You shook in his grasp as you felt your release overtake you, legs tightening again as he continued to relentlessly thrust his fingers in and out of you, thumb flicking wildly at your clit as you rode it out, repeating his name over and over like a mantra. You managed to start moving your hand on his cock again before your orgasm had ended, wanting to give him a similar release as he watched you come undone with his fingers. You heard him groan loudly and you opened your eyes to blearily watch as he finished in your fist, his come spurting above the water and along your fingers before disappearing into the water below. You closed your eyes again and whimpered as he carefully removed his fingers from your core, pulling you in close and burying his face in your neck.

“You're perfect,” he groaned against your skin, “Jesus, that was good.”

You laughed breathlessly, releasing him from your fist and bringing your arms up to wrap around him, palms pressed flush against his back in a warm hug. He hugged you back, and your eyes widened slightly when you felt him press a few small kisses to the space between your neck and shoulder, tender and gentle.

“My girl,” he murmured, and you felt tears suddenly sting your eyes, “Don't want anybody but you, you hear me? Nobody.”

You shut your eyes tight, holding him closer, “I don't want anyone else either,” you whispered, voice shaky with emotion, “It's just you, only you.”

He pulled back to peer down at you, and you were surprised to see that his eyes were also shining with tears, mirroring yours. He brought his hands down to your waist, thumbs stroking your bare skin as he smiled softly down at you.

“I'm gonna kiss you now,” he whispered, breath hitching a bit, “If that's okay.”

“Of course it's okay, dummy,” you replied with a smile, feeling a tear slip down your cheek, “Been waiting for you to ask me that for weeks.”

He chuckled at your words and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his beard rough but welcome against your chin. You kissed him back just as soft, hands stroking up and down his back soothingly as you gave yourself to him, let him take what was rightfully his. He held you tighter as he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours, giving you your favorite crooked smile.

“Sorry it took me so damn long.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fic #pedro pascal fic #* #fic: one thing i'm missing

[spider-stark]

a cruel fate

Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Summary - Having been in love with Aegon your entire life, you always assumed that he never felt the same. Now set to wed his brother, Aemond, your frustration finally peaks and leads to you confessing your feelings.

Warnings - suggestive language/actions, light use of y/n (sorry), sad aegon lol, minors dni please

// send me your thoughts // friendly reminder that reblogs and comments are always appreciated //

Winter had fallen over King’s Landing, offering the air an undeniable chill. It nipped relentlessly at your skin, tinting your cheeks a deep shade of maroon.   

You weren’t dressed appropriately for the weather, still wearing the same black gown that you’d donned at supper. It was a sleek and simplistic thing, one of your favorites, though it left much of your neck and forearms exposed to the frigid elements.   

Gooseflesh began to form along the bare bits of skin, your body’s way of urging you to go back inside the castle and seek out some semblance of warmth.   

Despite knowing that it was the logical thing to do, you didn’t listen. Instead, you brought your knees up to your chest, pressing your forehead against them and further curling into yourself, trying to lock in as much of your body heat as possible.   

Eventually you would have to go back inside the Red Keep, even if only to prevent hypothermia from setting in. But returning inside meant returning to reality; one that you knew you weren’t quite ready to face again.   

So, for now at least, you were content to sit here beneath the weirwood tree and risk freezing to death.    

A strange part of you considered whether death was a more desirable fate than the one you would soon face—though the thought alone was enough to spawn a feeling of guilt deep within your stomach, creeping its way up your throat and making you feel nauseous.   

Prince Aemond Targaryen was a decent man.   

Or, at the very least, he was far more decent than some of the men that wanted your hand.   

There were countless women who would gladly kill for an opportunity to take your place, and you knew that of all the things you should be feeling right now, grateful should be farther up on the list. After all, King Viserys’s youngest son was highly sought after for countless reasons.   

Aemond was undoubtedly intelligent. He had been studying intricate works of philosophy for nearly two decades, and you knew him to be capable of reciting the great histories of Westeros from memory alone.   

He practiced diligently with members of the Kings Guard, having gripped steel in his palms since he was old enough to stand. This meant his talent with a blade was nearly unmatched, leaving him highly revered for his dedication and talent, desired for his capability to protect those around him.   

And, as much as you wished to deny it, Aemond was an incredibly handsome man; even with the leather patch covering his missing eye.   

You were lucky to have ended up betrothed to him, someone that you had known for most of your life and knew would treat you fairly. You were lucky to be granted such a position, one that so many wanted.   

But try as you might, whenever you find yourself thinking of your betrothed, you can’t make yourself feel lucky, knowing that it was a fate you did not want.   

You just felt sick.   

So, instead of celebrating your impending union within the comfort of the Red Keep, hand-in-hand with your future husband, you sat in the dirt beneath the weirwood.   

Hiding—from both the future that awaited you and what would soon be left in your past.   

Unfortunately, the latter was much harder to hide from, given that your past had a nasty habit of always knowing exactly where to find you.   

“Seven hells, y/n! It’s fucking freezing out here!”   

The sound of Aegon’s voice was unexpected, nearly making you jump from your own skin. You lifted your head to look in his direction so fast that you smacked it against the tree behind you. A pained gasp slipped your lips, followed by a hushed series of expletives as a throbbing spread throughout the base of your skull.   

If anyone else were around, they likely would have scolded you for your vulgar use of language, marking it unladylike and improper. But Aegon only laughed at it.   

“Careful now,” he warned playfully, taking another few lazy steps in your direction, “can’t say my brother would be too pleased to hear that his betrothed bashed her own skull in just days before their wedding.”   

You couldn’t understand how you hadn’t heard him approaching, knowing that stealth wasn’t exactly a quality the eldest prince possessed.   

Aegon was always careless and heavy footed, always quick to make his presence known; the opposite of his brother. But tonight, it seemed as if he’d borrowed upon Aemond’s skills–or, more likely, you had been too consumed in your own misery to pay any attention.   

“I’ve been looking for you, you know.” A boyish grin tugged at his pale lips, stopping at the base of your feet and looking down at you.   

For many it was an unusual sight to see Aegon smile, with most having grown used to the permanent scowl that seemed to grace his features. For you, though, it was a standard expression.    

Rubbing at the sore spot on the back of your head, you kept your chin low, refusing to look up as you spoke roughly, “My apologies, your grace. I wasn’t aware my presence was needed anywhere.”   

Aegon’s brow instantly cocked, forehead creasing as he took in both the bitterness and the formality of your statement.   

It was rare that you addressed him with proper terms and hearing them now made him feel uneasy. Your willingness to ignore the politics that threatened to consume his life was one of the many things Aegon adored about you, knowing that with you, he wasn’t the prince or even the King’s true heir—he was just Aegon.   

“Your presence is always needed.” He spoke without thinking, sharing the first thing that came to mind. When you stayed silent, he felt his face grow warm.  

Clearing his throat and trying to redirect, he impishly bumped his foot against yours to try and draw your attention. It didn’t work, your stare fixed to your lap. “Why are you hiding out here anyways?”  

“I’m not hiding.” You swiftly corrected him, finally lowering your hand as the pain in your head dissipated to a dull ache. “I just wanted some fresh air.”  

“You should have told me,” he said, once again failing to hold his tongue, “I would’ve joined you.”  

Restraint had never been a strong suit of his, yet it seemed to fail him further whenever you were around.  

Aegon had never quite gotten used to having someone who actually wanted him around. Growing up surrounded by those who only ever searched for ways to avoid him, he had grown familiar with loneliness.  

But then you came along one day, a scared little girl whose father had just secured a place in King Viserys’s council. Aegon remembered thinking that you seemed just as out-of-place as he did, trying to make a home of this unfamiliar land.  

Imagining that you were even half as lonely as he felt, he took pity on you, approaching you on a whim and cracking some awful joke to ease your mind. And, to his surprise, it worked. Laughter reverberated through your little body, spilling from your lips and urging him to laugh too.  

With one petty and uncharacteristic act of kindness, Aegon became your first friend in the Red Keep, and you became the first person to not just tolerate his presence, but to actually enjoy it.  

It became an addicting feeling for him, seeking out your company and using it to stave away decades loneliness. With you, he felt that he was always pining, always craving—always the opposite of himself.  

You smiled in response to his statement, though he was quick to realize that it wasn’t a kind one. It resembled more of a snarl, lips pressed tightly together, voice taut as you said, “I wasn’t in the mood for company.”  

Aegon’s body immediately went stiff, a pang of rejection coursing through him and making his face screw up. It was intentional, of course, as you knew him well enough to know he would take your comment personally. You hoped it would piss him off enough to make him leave entirely.  

Of course, though, things were never that easy with Aegon.  

“Alright, what did I do?” He asked gruffly, sounding an awful lot like a child waiting to be scolded.  

“What do you mean?”  

“To piss you off!” He all but whined, voice growing louder as his short temper began to rise. “What did I do to make you act like this?”  

You were stumped, left to purse your lips as you struggled to conjure an answer that didn’t involve you telling him the truth.  

Aegon had been on his best behavior as of late. It had been ages since you last heard of him visiting the Street of Silk and he hadn’t been allowing himself to fall too deeply into his cups.  

In many ways, it seemed that since your betrothal to his brother was announced, Aegon had been far more composed, happier, even—a fact that likely should have made you happy as well.  

But it didn’t.  

If anything, it made you miserable.  

With a deep sigh, agitated by your own complicated feelings and him, you answered with a half-truth, “You haven’t done anything, my prince.”  

The sound of that word, that fucking title, falling from your lips was enough to snap something within him, his quick temper getting the better of him.  

An annoyed growl ripped through his throat, stomping his foot against the dirt. Even without looking at him you could feel his lilac eyes burning into you, glaring down at you.  

“Stop that.”  

You played coy, repeating the phrase that had gotten a rise out of him. “Stop what, my prince?”  

In a selfish way, you wanted him to be angry, to feel even half as unhappy as you were right now.  

“Stop talking to me like my mother’s around!” He grumbled.  

Bold and fueled by your own misery, you pushed him further, “Is that a command, my pri-”  

Aegon cut you off before you had a chance to antagonize him further, shouting far louder than intended, “No! It’s not a fucking command!”  

You were instantly stunned, finally breaking as your gaze flicked up from your lap, staring at him with wide-eyes.  

This wasn’t the first time you had heard Aegon yell.  

After all, you’d grown up with him, having practically become the elder boy’s shadow. You had heard him yell at knights, at servants, and even his siblings—but this was the first time he had ever yelled at you.  

You expected to be scared, having found yourself the target of his short temper. But, in a strange way, you found that you liked it. For a moment, however brief, you were the target of his passion. Even if it wasn’t in the way you wanted, it was still something.  

Aegon clearly didn’t share those feelings though, regret swiftly washing over him. He took a deep breath, his head lowering as he attempted to calm himself.  

“You know that I would never command you to do anything.” He told you, much softer than before. A hand rose to his head, his fingers roughly tugging at his silvery locks. “I was only asking you to stop. As your friend.”  

You knew that his statement was meant as a kindness. A testament, even, that he would never use his position of power against you, viewing you as far more than one of his father's subjects. Knowing that, however, did not stop it from landing against your chest like a harsh blow, your lip curling in disgust at the sound.  

For years you had thought yourself happy to have Aegon as a friend. But, as much as you didn’t wish to admit it, you knew that you would be far happier to have him as more than that.  

As the two of you grew older, you found yourself tired of sitting on the sidelines, watching as Aegon lusted over every woman that crossed his path. You watched as he chased after servants and whores, throwing his attention and his cock at anyone who would pay him any attention.  

Except for you.  

Often it felt as if you were the only woman in the world that he didn’t want, even as you grew desperate for him. While Aegon seemingly craved your friendship, you craved him.  

Having become further vexed by your own thoughts, you let out a particularly loud huff, falling back against the weirwood tree and ignoring the way Aegon’s brows raised at your dramatic display. “Not for much longer.” You proclaimed, watching blankly as your breath turned to a cloudy mist amongst the cool air. “So you should get used to the formalities.”  

“Well what the fuck do you mean by that?” Aegon asked, sounding thoroughly exasperated.  

He found females to be entirely too difficult to communicate with. They were fickle creatures, prone to speaking in riddles and leaving him with a kind of headache that couldn’t be easily remedied. It was the reason he did his best to avoid them altogether, save for whenever one was crawling into his bed.  

You were an exception, however. The only woman he cared enough about to actually try and decode your cryptic speech.  

“I’ll be married soon,” you told him simply, shoulders lifting in a careless shrug, “it’ll change things.”  

 “Ah, yes!” Aegon commented caustically, laughing dryly, “My apologies! I forgot that as soon as you’re wed my brother plans to throw you in the Maidenvault, never to be seen again!”  

You cut your eyes at him, letting your head drop back against your knees. “So glad that you’re taking this seriously, Aeg.”  

The muffled remark made his laughter grow quiet, realizing that you clearly weren’t in the mood for his antics. For whatever reason, even if he didn’t understand it, you were serious about thinking that your marriage to Aemond would affect your friendship.  

Silence settled over the two of you, a suffocating and heavy sort of thing. The ground crunched beneath his boots, and you wondered if he had finally had enough of your temperamental behavior.  

It was a thought that should’ve brought you some relief, given that you had been purposely trying to piss him off enough that he’d leave you to wallow alone in your misery, but it didn’t. Instead, you only grew more agitated at the thought of Aegon running off to seek out the company of someone far more amenable than you.  

You went to lift your head, already considering pleading with him to stay, before you suddenly felt the warmth of his body pressing against your side as he sat on the ground with you.  

The close proximity quelled your building nerves, your muscles instinctively relaxing in his presence.  

“So you’re not angry at me,” he ventured, seemingly unaware of the fact that your heart was now in your throat, your mind too fixated on the way his forearm was pressed against yours, “you’re upset about your betrothal?”  

His tone took you by surprise, now lacking the humor it once held and sounding far more pensive. The newfound solemnity wasn’t enough to stop him from playfully jutting an elbow into your side though, silently urging you to lift your head.  

You obliged with his request, though you didn’t let yourself face him as you muttered out an answer. “I guess so.”  

“But why? This was what we wanted, was it not?”  

We—a simple phrase, inherently meaningless and yet still powerful enough to cause your chest to tighten.  

“We always agreed that when it came time for you to marry that it would be best for it to be someone here, right? That way you wouldn’t have to leave King’s Landing!”  

So you wouldn’t have to leave him.   

“Well, yes,” you huffed, cheeks beginning to heat as you struggled to find an easy explanation for your feelings, “but it’s just–I don’t know, this isn’t how I imagined things would go!”  

It was true enough.  

Perhaps Aegon’s only hope had been that you would be betrothed to someone nearby, unwilling to lose his best friend. But your hope had only ever been that you would be betrothed to him.  

“Is it Aemond?” He guessed, trying to think of any reason for your animosity. Without waiting for confirmation, he hastily started to form a defense for it. “I know he’s a bit of a twat, but it’s not like you’ll be expected to spend all your time with him! Dozens of women only ever see their husbands on special occasions, do they not? Like tourneys or fucking-”  

You threw your head back and grimaced, a repulsed sound coming from your lips at the reminder of the duty that would soon be placed upon you. Cursed as a woman, you would be expected to give Aemond an heir; a thought you’d been trying to avoid.  

“Seven hells, Aeg! It’s not about that!” You cried out, nose wrinkling.  

“Oh.”  

He sank back against the weirwood, his shoulders slumping forward as he did. Then, after a moment, he asked, “Does that mean you actually want to fuck my brother?” He cocked a brow at you, starting to motion to the left side of his face. “Even with the whole, ya know-”  

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to laugh at the disgusted expression he wore. “You’re unbelievable.”  

“I’m just wondering!” Aegon defended himself, lifting his hands to his chest, palms facing outwards.  

“Well not everything is about fucking, Aegon.” You said sternly.  

“Sooo,” he popped his lips, giving you a sheepish grin that let you know he wasn’t planning to drop the question, “you don’t want to fuck him then?”  

Scowling, you reached over to swat roughly at his forearm, unable to hold back your amusement as you watched him try to scramble back from the strike, chuckling at your weak attempt to hit him.  

“No, Aeg. I don’t want to fuck your brother.” You clarified, rolling your eyes at his juvenile behavior. “Not that it’s any of your business in the first place.”  

The answer seemed to satisfy the eldest prince, moving back to settle against the tree with a smug smirk. “Then aside from fucking Aemond,” he jeered, “what’s the problem? We should be celebrating!”  

He leaned closer, delicately grabbing hold of your wrist and lightly shaking you. Your smile abruptly fell, posture straightening. Aegon didn’t notice the changes in your body language, only continuing his spiel.  

“This marriage will solve everything! Your father is pleased that you’re marrying a prince, and being with Aemond means that you won’t even have to leave the Keep! It all works out perfectly.”  

“You’re right,” you heaved out a breath, snatching your wrist from his hand and rising to your feet, “it clearly solves everything!”  

“Yet you’re still not happy.” Aegon acknowledged, mild amusement twinkling in his lilac eyes as he watched you begin to frantically pace back and forth beside him.  

“How could I be?” You scoffed, throwing your hands up as you spun roughly on your heel. “Here I am, being forced to marry Aemond-”  

“Yes, being forced to marry a prince, how dreadful.” Aegon droned.  

“I am signing away my life, Aegon!” You glared at him, keeping your voice low as you jutted a finger against your chest. “I am aware that the cards I’ve been dealt are much kinder than some others, but that does not make them desirable!”  

It felt as if your frustration had reached its peak, your words beginning to spill out without a second thought.  

“As soon as I’m wed to your brother I will be locked away in that fucking castle, good for absolutely nothing but supplying him with heirs! And should I fail at that, then I’ll be as good as useless!”  

It pained you to speak your thoughts aloud, unable to fight back against the guilt suddenly gnawing at you. Growing up Aemond had never been anything less than respectful towards you; but even so, you knew his respect would only extend so far.  

Patient as he may be, there was little in this world that mattered more to him than duty, and you knew he would be expecting you to fulfill yours, regardless of your own wants.  

Ceasing your incessant assault against the ground you froze by Aegon’s feet, now rubbing at your temples. “So yes, this marriage most certainly solves everything.” You spat, voice full of bitter sadness. “I'll be subjected to a cruel fate, where my worth will become equated to that of a broodmare and I’ll be forced to live my life knowing that I will never wed the man I actually want!”  

The subtle admission nearly went over Aegon’s head, your words spilling out so fast that he could just barely register them—but he did.  

The half-way-confession caught him off-guard, the color draining from his face as he processed it. Of all the issues he expected you to have with your betrothal to Aemond, he hadn’t once expected it to be because someone else had already claimed your heart.  

Thinking of it now, knowing it to be a possibility, only succeeded in causing his short temper to flare once again. Aegon’s fists clenched at his sides, nails digging deep into the heel of his palm.  

“Who?”  

His voice came out unusually low, his eyes darkening as they landed on you. You instantly felt trapped under his gaze, lips parting only to fall closed once again, trying to think of a way out of the corner you’d backed yourself into.  

When you stayed silent, Aegon pushed himself to his feet in a single swift motion, easily towering over your frame and leaving you to shrink further beneath him.  

“If not Aemond,” he practically snarled, his lip curling as his brother’s name rolled from his tongue like a curse, “then who do you wish to wed?”  

You wanted to disappear.  

You wished that the ground would open up under your feet and swallow you whole.  

But you knew that there was no true escape from him, stumbling a half step back and tilting your head to the ground, doing everything in your power to evade his piercing stare until you could work up a lie that made sense.  

It nearly worked too, until a hand came to rest under your chin, firmly grasping it and shoving it upwards, forcing you to meet his stare.  

Aegon’s jaw was unbelievably tense, clenched tight as a barely contained rage swirled to life in his eyes, impatiently awaiting an answer.  

Now, unable to look away from him, you noticed how much he couldn’t stand this—the idea of you being the one to pine and crave for someone, for you feel anything for another. For some reason, one that no doubt left you perplexed, it was apparent now that Aegon had only accepted your betrothal with ease because he knew it to be out of duty—not love.  

“It doesn’t matter.” You whispered, biting your tongue to hold back the desperate admission building in your throat.  

You tried to hold onto the last few scrapes of your sanity, reminding yourself that confessing now would gain you nothing.  

If Aegon cared for you—if he loved you—then he’d had over a decade to admit it, or to even just show it in a way you could understand.  

“Of course it does.” He rebutted firmly, unwavering in his demand for an answer.  

His touch began to drift, fingers softly sliding along your jawline before the warmth of his palm came to cradle your cheek. It was an unusual feeling, having him so close, but you let yourself savor it, greedily lapping up every bit of intimacy he’d offer you.   

“Please,” he urged you, the scent of wine on his breath piercing your senses, “tell me who.”  

You weren’t sure you’d ever heard him sound like this before, his tone a near whine. It was the closest Aegon had ever come to begging you for something, and as you squeezed your eyes shut tighter, you found yourself losing all sense of reason, unable to hold back any longer.  

“You.”  

A breathless admission, one that held no expectations as to what he might say or do in response. A cynical part of you sought to brace yourself, half-expecting him to take it as a joke and laugh in your face at the thought of being with you.  

But Aegon didn’t laugh, even as his hand fell from your face, allowing the cold to kiss your cheek once again.  

Your eyes shot open at the loss of contact, stunned as you saw Aegon stumbling back from you, nearly tripping over his own feet. There was no look of amusement like you’d expected, nor one of disdain. Instead, to your surprise, he appeared to be hurt by the confession.  

Staring at him, too dumbfounded to speak, you watched the way his bottom lip trembled, lilac eyes turning glossy with unshed tears. Then he shook his head, strands of silver hair falling in his face.  

“No.” He all but choked on the word, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re lying.”  

Your brows snapped together, offended as you just barely stuttered out an answer. “What? Why would I–what would I gain from lying about this?”  

“I don’t know!” Aegon cried out, a few tears beginning to slide freely down his cheeks. He was quick to wipe them away with the backs of his hands, embarrassed by his own emotions. “But I refuse to accept that it’s the truth!”  

“Refusing to accept it will not make it any less true, Aeg!” You countered, stepping towards him and tried to close the distance he had created. “Perhaps it’s selfish of me to say it, especially now, but I swear to you that I mean what I say!”  

It felt foolish to do this, to stand before your best friend and declare him as the man you wished to wed, just days before you were to be given to his brother. You felt ignorant to place yourself in this position, to have set yourself up for rejection after all these years.  

But none of that mattered now, you supposed. You could not take back what you said, having already handed him your still-beating heart. All that was left to do was wait—praying he would be kind enough to not crush it in his hands.  

And so, knowing that you couldn’t back out of this, you swallowed what remained of your pride and said the words that had been living in your head for a decade now.  

“I love you, Aegon. I denied it for so many years and spent several more trying to bury it, but I love you.” 

Aegon remained motionless, his glistening eyes searching yours for any sign of deceit. He found none, only seeing that despite any logic or reason, it was the truth.  

As flawed as he may be and as much as he didn’t want to believe it, you were in love with him.  

Wetness gathered on your cheeks, making you realize that you were crying now too. Aegon stayed silent, each passing second causing your heart to grow heavier, an emptiness cleaving its way through your chest.  

He’s had over a decade to admit any feelings he might have–you reminded yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and letting more tears fall free. You had expected this—assumed that Aegon would never see you as anything more than his friend—but that didn’t make it hurt any less.  

“I told you that things would change-” you tried to speak, wanting to get this over with. It was best for him to break your heart quickly, you thought, so that you could at least escape this moment.  

But Aegon didn’t let you finish your sentence, hands suddenly grabbing at your waist, pulling you into his chest. You gasped at the movement, eyes opening as both of your palms moved to press flat against his tunic, trying to steady yourself.  

Disoriented, you blinked at him, waiting for some sort of explanation. He didn’t offer one, at least not immediately. You couldn’t read his expression, quietly watching as his tear-stained face began to soften.  

Then, gently, he spoke—”Say it again.”  

A flush crept up your neck. “I love you.”  

“You shouldn’t.” He said, his thumb pressing into your abdomen as he gripped you tighter.  

“But I do,” you assured him, breathless as you repeated it again, “I have loved you my entire life, Aegon–even if you don’t feel the same.”  

Lilac eyes narrowed at your insecure claim. “Have I ever said that I don’t?” He tilted his head, hands sliding down to your hips and shoving you back against the smooth bark of the weirwood. “I have been madly in love with you from the very first moment I saw you.”  

A mixture of doubt and relief flooded your mind, grappling with the authenticity of his promise. “But you never said anything-”  

“Because I’m not worthy of someone like you.” Aegon winced at the sound of his own words. “You’ve seen it yourself throughout the years. Heard it from the mouths of my own family. I am a coward and an imbecile, but you-” his nails dug through the fabric of your gown, his body pressing against yours and further caging you against the tree, “are the only good in my life. The only one who gives me a reason to be good.”  

Pain etched across his features as he talked of the way others thought of him, of the way his own family thought of him. The sight nearly made you crumble against him.  

You brought a hand to his cheek, softly caressing his skin. “You should’ve told me.”  

“No,” he asserted, nuzzling into your touch, “I knew that if I told you how I felt and you didn’t return my feelings that it would change things between us. I wasn’t willing to risk losing you.” Aegon paused, his gaze flickering to your lips, “I don’t think I can live without you in my life.”  

Disbelief clouded your mind. This wasn’t real, you wanted to tell yourself, feeling delirious, this can’t be real.  

But you could feel him; his fingers pressing into your flesh, the steady rise-and-fall of his chest against yours. You could smell him; sweet notes of red wine lacing his breath, engulfing your senses. And you could see him; watching as his lilac stare got hung up on your mouth, your throat, your collarbones, swirling with a dangerous blend of lust and adoration.  

You didn’t want to think of tomorrow or the next day. You didn’t want to think of your betrothal to Aemond and what would become of your life.  

Because tonight, right now, this is your new reality.  

Wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, you began to weave your fingers into the hair covering the base of his neck. “You could never lose me.” You swore, melting as a soft whine fell from his lips at the declaration.  

Then, before you even had time to think, his lips were pressed against yours.  

There was nothing gentle about Aegon’s kiss.  

It was a fervent act, hard and desperate, filled with a passion so intense that it made your legs tremble. Aegon’s grip turned near-bruising, steadying you as he pushed further into you.  

Heat rushed through your body, pooling within your stomach as a strangled moan parted your lips, giving way for Aegon to slip his tongue into your mouth, filling it with the bitter taste of wine. One of his hands drifted to your back, traveling up your spine before burying itself in your hair and trying to pull you even closer.  

Breaking the kiss, he chuckled as he heard you groan in protest, swollen lips ghosting over your cheek before hovering against your ear. “I have loved you for so long,” he purred, the warmth of his breath causing your back to arch, “I have wanted you for so long-”  

The hand that remained on your hip trailed down to your thigh, hurriedly hiking up the fabric of your skirts until he was touching bare skin. His fingers prodded into your flesh, pulling your leg upwards to his waist and wedging himself further between your hips.  

“Then take me,” you gasped, your fingers still laced in his hair, making him groan as you tugged at the silver locks, “I’m already yours.”  

A guttural sound wracked through his body, a hardness pressing against your core as his hips moved against yours. His mouth quickly moved to find yours again, and as his teeth snared on your bottom lip, nibbling at it, you prayed that this would last forever.  

But the Gods tend to be cruel, however.  

“Apologies, my prince-” a squeal erupted from your throat, both of you snapping away from each other to see a red-faced Ser Erryk standing a few feet away. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but the Queen requires your presence.”  

Panic began to flood your veins, your heart beating wildly in your chest. Aegon, however, seemed entirely unphased by being caught like this, his hand still gripping your thigh. “Tell her I’m busy.”  

You felt as if you couldn’t breathe, your mind racing. If Erryk told the Queen of the position he had found the two of you in…  

“I’m afraid she won’t accept that, my prince.” He spoke awkwardly, doing his best to keep his stare from drifting to your exposed skin. “It seemed quite urgent. She requested that I deliver you to her at once.”  

“Fine.” Aegon grumbled, rolling his eyes at the guard.  

He took a half-step back from you, allowing you to lower your leg from his waist before helping you to smooth the fabric of your gown, looking entirely unbothered by the situation.  

You, on the other hand, looked as if you were about to pass out.  

Aegon only chuckled at your blanched expression, leaving you to glare at him as you questioned whether he understood this situation's true gravity.  

“Aegon,” you whispered harshly, gaze flicking towards Erryk, “if he tells your mother about this-”  

“Let him.” He said, a certain arrogance filling his voice. “If he doesn’t, then I’ll do it myself.”  

Your brows furrowed. “But Aemond-”  

“Fuck Aemond.” Aegon told you harshly, unwilling to listen to your protests. “You are mine to claim, not his.”  

You bit down on your lower lip, his declaration only worsening your wish that Erryk hadn’t interrupted the two of you. “Your mother won’t like that.”  

“She doesn’t have to.” He started, “My mother wishes for me to sit the Iron Throne, and I wish for you,” he gave you a devious smirk, reaching for your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze, “I imagine the two of us can come to an agreement that will relieve you of your commitment to my brother.”  

In spite of your nerves, only building at the thought of Aegon being forced to sit upon the throne, you couldn't help but allow yourself to smile, finally imagining a future that you wouldn't need to hide from.

Perhaps your fate wouldn’t be so cruel after all.  

I wrote the majority of this well past midnight while feeling as if I were dying from an insane migraine. So, basically, I have no clue what this is but it kept me occupied and I'm gonna go ahead and post it anyways lmao.

Planning on writing some angsty!Aegon and some smut soon cause apparently I'm stuck on him rn. If anyone wants to be added to a HOTD taglist lmk, also feel free to message me any ideas you might wanna see or just to talk about how insanely attractive aegon and aemond are lol

#hotd imagine #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd aegon #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon fanfic #aegon x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fanfic #Aegon targaryen angst #aegon targaryen fluff #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x you #Aegon targaryen imagine #hotd Aegon imagine #hotd smut #hotd fluff #aegon targaryen ii #aemond targaryen

[kaciidubs]

i’ve come back a lot sooner than i expected 🤭 hear me out.. 9th maknae member reader (skz) x Mingi (ateez) 🤯 Reader and mingi have been in a secret relationship for at least a year and both Companies are preparing on announcing their relationship to the public/fans. (it gets better 😼)

Both groups: (ateez + stray kids) don’t know that they’re dating 😱 The boys arranged a massive sleepover for both groups to hangout and reader gets really hot and bothered by mingi teasing her the whole night. They end up excusing themselves (sneakily) and they have the most mind blowing sex ever. All of the other boys over hear and were shocked 🤯 They act like nothing happened as they didn’t want to assume they were dating but later on at an award show it was finally announced that Mingi and Reader were dating. Skz boys went crazy and was practically babying their precious maknae 🫶🏻

kaci my favourite writer 🥰

(p.s sorry for how long this is 💀)

This one's been sitting for a while, mainly because it's already a wonderful thought as is! So, here's just a few thoughts to expand on it~ ❣ Warnings: 9th Member! Reader + Song Mingi [Ateez], smut, fluff, slight humor ❣ ❣ Additional tags: essentially a crossover for Staytiny all around the world~

While the rest of the members were in the living room, you would be bent over the bathroom sink with Mingi giving his all in rearranging your guts in the most quick yet efficient way possible - though, that way didn't include him being the quietest while doing so.

"Mm, jesus, fuck-"

"Mingi, be quiet."

You'd think he was the one currently getting his guts rearranged from the way he struggled to contain his moans, leading you to shoot him a warning glare through the reflection of the bathroom mirror.

"We might as well go and fuck in front of them if you're going to be this loud!" You seethed with a hushed scold, gripping the edge of the counter to keep your balance with his unwavering thrusts.

You could only hope that your combined groups were too occupied with the movie they were watching to notice you and Mingi missing.

Sharp eyes locked onto your own through the mirror, a sideways smirk stretching his lips, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? It's not like they don't suspect it anyways." Snapping his hips forward, he continued, "We can just give them a nudge in the right direction."

Biting back a moan, you dropped your head between your shoulders to focus on the orgasm he'd been teasing you toward since he arrived at your shared dorm; subtle grazes and risque touches keeping you wound up and ready for anything.

A hand found its way around your throat, pulling your body up at an angle so that your gaze met his once more; captivating and hypnotizing, yet still filled with a love that had you falling for him all over again.

"I love you," the words fell from his lips with ease, honest and true, "and I don't want to keep hiding it."

You were, too - he knew that better than anyone, and having to hide it not only from the world, but your band members, the closest people you have, had been eating you both up since day one.

Gripping his forearm, you nodded softly, "I love you too, baby - just a little l-longer to go."

His lips curled into a smirk before driving into you with a newfound fervor.

Neither of you would catch the knowing side eyes or smug smirks of your members when you each returned separately to the living room to catch whatever remained of the movie.

The 'little longer' would eventually come during an award show, with the thoroughly discussed plan between your managers and PR team of revealing the relationship to everyone during a collaborative performance.

Part of it was Mingi's plan to do a performance together, but with the way your schedules aligned, you figured doing it live as opposed to uploading it on youtube was the easier choice.

With the stage - quite literally - set, you and Mingi performed your arduously practiced routine in front of your fellow artists and hundreds of screaming fans, and as the song came to an end the moment you've been waiting for was upon you.

Getting ready for the ending pose, Mingi pulled you into his side and pressed a loving kiss to your temple, while you hugged him with a dazzling smile to the camera focused on you both - and to say the reactions were worth it would've been an understatement.

The wild screams of your colleagues and fans was enough to pierce through your earpiece, and shooting a glance into the idol space you could see all eight of your members going absolutely insane - sneaking a glance to the Ateez table to see almost a mirrored reaction.

Leaving the stage to take off your earpieces and mic packs, the return to the Stray Kids table was nothing short of a spectacle as Changbin swiftly wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

"You think you can just go off and get a boyfriend without telling us?! You're too young!"

"Innie and I are literally just a few months apart," you laughed, trying to pull away from his partial choke hold.

"Yeah, a few months too many! You're our baby!" Jisung all but wailed, squeezing your cheeks much to your dismay.

Seungmin scoffed, "The fact that we knew and you're still acting like this? Hyunjin's dramatics is rubbing off on you."

"Wait- You knew?!"

"It's not like the two of you were the sneakiest..." Minho's nonplussed tone made a wave of embarrassment wash over you, the memory of the movie night quickly dawning. "Plus, trying to hide anything from Wooyoung is like trying to limit yourself to one of Felix's brownies - it's impossible. Changbin hasn't stopped talking about their theories since they first started scheming."

Managing to untangle yourself from Changbin's hold, you found Chris standing in front of you now, a firm expression on his face.

"Are you happy?"

You could hear the lingering, unspoken words behind his question and you offered him a gentle smile, nodding, "I am, I really am."

Face brightening with his signature smile, he pulled you into a quick hug, squeezing tightly, "Good, because you're definitely telling us how everything started between you two, later."

Separating to go back to your unassigned assigned seats - with a few words of congratulations from Felix and Hyunjin - you looked across the aisle to catch Mingi already staring at you, his lips pulled into a proud smile while the rest of his members gave you teasing, yet supportive, cheers.

[unedited]

#✧. ┊ kacii answers #✧. ┊ lovely ihrtlix #i don't quite know how to tag this since it's not fully skz #song mingi x reader #song mingi smut #ateez smut #song mingi fluff #skz 9th member #stray kids 9th member

[mojogojocasahouse]

Blushing Confessions - Suguru Geto

Suguru Geto x f!reader

When your best friend finds out there’s something you haven’t experienced, he takes it into his own hands to show you what you’ve been missing.

Words: 1.9k Content:NSFW, friends to lovers, first time oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v, oral m!receiving, multiple orgasms, overstimulation 18+ ONLY

Satoru Gojo version || SatoSugu version

It’s just past midnight when you finally spot the wreath of flowers hanging on your front door. Your ankles and calves are throbbing from the long walk home in heels, the chill in the air blocked out by a black leather jacket that didn’t belong to you.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you sigh, beginning to shrug it off to return it to its rightful owner, “and for this.”

“I’ll get it inside,” your best friend Suguru Geto chimes from behind you.

Suguru follows you in before gently pulling the thick coat from your shoulders, leaving you in the short strapless dress you’d begun the night in, your keys and purse going on the hook behind the door.

“I overheard you talking to Shoko tonight,” he confesses, your blood running cold and a shiver shooting down your spine.

There had been enough words shared between you and Shoko that night you wouldn’t want anyone to hear, most of all Suguru. A few drinks earlier in the night had your tongue loose, and the conversation had gotten much more suggestive as the laughs had flowed. You were freshly single, breaking it off with the guy you’d been with since high school, and Shoko had been eager to get all the dirt on him that she could. That, and you’d finally admitted that the crush on a “mutual friend” she always teased you about having had actually been true all along.

“Is it true?” Suguru whispers soft and deep, he’s close enough you can feel his breath hot on your ear, “That no one’s tasted you before?”

Air leaves your lungs as the backs of his fingers graze down your arm, that was certainly one of the things you hoped he hadn’t heard. In fact, you’d wanted to take the words and shove them back down your throat the moment they left your lips. Frozen in humiliation, you feel the tight skirt of your dress being pulled up to bunch at your waist, your bare ass pressing against Suguru’s linen pants as he closes any remaining space left between you, nothing but the small triangle of fabric of your thong shielding your lower half from view.

“If only you knew how long I’ve wanted this,” he purrs against your throat, “Maybe you’d have taken pity on me a long time ago.”

Through all the nights you’d thought of him as you pleasured yourself none of your fantasies had done him justice. Your body is limp when he pins you against the door, sinking down to his knees and slinging your left one over his shoulder, your sharp stiletto heel thumping against his back. He doesn’t bother slipping off the pathetic excuse of panties you’re wearing, he just nudges the thin satin fabric aside before burying his tongue in your slit. A strong forearm pressing against your stomach keeps you upright when you keel over forward, the leg you’re still standing on already quivering and threatening to give out. 

It’s just long languid strokes at first, but he’s already groaning as he swipes over your dampening skin. Your limbs are on fire, and it’s taking all your focus to concentrate on the dark eyes transfixed on every gasp and expression on your face. Every muscle is shaking, you don’t notice the way you’re slinking down to the floor until the cool wood hits your ass, and somehow Suguru has followed you down without stopping his onslaught until he’s flat on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your thighs and taking advantage of the new leverage he has at this angle.

Immediately, his lips lock around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud until your little whines go silent. Your mouth is just hanging open now, fingers running along the sleek black hair tied back neatly in a bun. Every purse of lips and flick of his tongue is stronger than the last, and he stops to collect your slick whenever he pauses for a breath, humming in appreciation for every drop.

The top of your dress slips down as your chest heaves and body slackens against the door, and his hands immediately find your newly exposed skin. You’re lost in him. His thumbs rub circles over your hardening nipples as he palms the plush of your breasts, his mouth still greedily lapping at your cunt. It’s hard to breathe, pressure bearing down on your chest and stomach like a vice, and subconsciously you begin flicking your hips over his face. 

A wicked smile settles on his lips at the sight of you so undone, so wild and feral for him. You’re using him now, fucking yourself on his outstretched tongue until every muscle tenses, the dam breaking and sending a wave of relief through your body from the middle outwards. Air burns your lung as you gulp it in with loud, whimpering pants, your lidded eyes watching his hair fall over his shoulders as he pulls it free. 

Before you even stop twitching from the aftershocks, his mouth is once again adhering to your slick, swollen folds. You scream out in shock, your body still too sensitive, but Suguru has no intention of relenting. 

“It’s too much,” you slur, but your fingers thread in his silky locks gently, combing through them affectionately, “I can’t—“

“Try,” he purrs, kissing your overstimulated bundle of nerves, “You can take it. For me?”

That poisoned honey tone could command you to do anything. 

“So sweet,” he hums after his tongue swipes over your fluttering hole, “You’re still dripping.”

“Fuck me,” you beg, not even in control of your own thoughts anymore, “Fuck me, please.”

“Soon. But there’s something I want first.”

Pleasure won out over discomfort beneath his skilled ministrations, heat bubbling in your belly once again as his teeth grazed your inner thigh. You’re so swollen, just his middle finger feels like a stretch when he pushes up into your pussy, his chuckle over just how tight you are hot against your soaked skin. 

After a few strokes, he stuffs you with a second finger, curling them to massage along your inner wall. White-hot heat prickles your skin as a thin sheen of sweat has you glowing in the dim light, it’s an entirely different level of bliss now. This feels heavier, every drag of his thick digits can be felt all the way in the tips of your fingers, the added wet heat of his mouth shamelessly running through your slit and over his own fingers drenched in your juices making it unbearable. 

Wriggling your hips, you try to get away, but you’re keeping his head in place between your legs with an iron grip. You know your neighbors can hear your wanton cries, they’re echoing off the walls as a wildfire burns through your veins. Suguru is unrelenting, his fingers moving faster, pressing harder, scraping against the soft patch he’s pinpointed with proficient accuracy until you're gushing around him.

His teeth are bared in a greedy grin, his lower face drenched as he props himself up onto his elbows like he’s crawling from the trenches. Gripping the bunched mess of your dress pooled around your middle, he yanks you upright into his chest and crashes his lips down onto yours. 

“See? You taste simply divine,” he says, your tongue darting out to taste yourself still strongly saturating his mouth, your fingers working on the buttons of his shirt.

As you come down from your high, you enjoy the kiss you’ve waited years for. It doesn’t feel like the first time, his lips moving fluidly with yours, the dance is graceful as you wind your arms around his neck and find his hair once again while he shoves his shirt off his shoulders. Large, warm hands slip from your waist and over the soft curves of your ass to grip the backs of your thighs, your body leaving the ground as he stands. 

The blankets on your bed cushion your fall when he drops you, immediately twisting you to lay flat on your stomach and lifting your hips. 

“Gorgeous,” he sighs, smacking his palm down onto your ass cheek, the sting searing down your leg. 

“Please,” you beg, knotting your hands in your bedding as he notches at your opening, “Please, Suguru.”

“Have you ever thought of me?” he asks, teasing you with the tip, “When you were with him.”

“Yes.”

He groans at your admission, thrusting in and bottoming out in one stroke. There’s no time to adjust to the stretch of his cock splitting you open, he’s already dragging through your velvety walls in search of friction, slamming back in harder than the first. With each punctuated piston of his hips, your whines are choked from the force of his movements, your bones turning to jelly in his grip. 

“We’ll stay in tomorrow…sleep in,” Suguru plans, his voice barely audible over the smacking of his hips against your ass, “Order delivery for lunch…Then I’ll cook you dinner…”

How could he even be thinking coherently right now? You were drooling, face down on your bed, your body limp as he ruts into you with enough force to have you sliding up the sheets. 

“I’ll fuck you to sleep,” he continues as you mewl beneath him, “Soft and slow. Because I know you’ll be sore.”

You’re clenching around him at the suggestion. As his movements grow more frantic and sloppy, you’re building towards your third orgasm of the night. Exhaustion doesn’t even begin to encapsulate what you feel, the only word you can manage to babble is his name, and it only fuels him faster. 

“I won’t come without you,” he coos, curling his chest around your back, “Tell me what you need.”

With one hand, you drag his to your center, his fingers immediately beginning to rub circles over your clit once again, and with the other, you drag his left to your throat. He chuckles in your ear, pulling you upright with him, his hair falling down over your shoulder as he mouths at the hollow behind your ear. Your tits are shaking as he fucks you somehow harder and faster, his hand squeezing around your windpipe while he kisses your gasping lips. 

“Where do you want it?” he murmurs, his voice edging on desperation.

“In-inside…” you answer, and it’s the last word you utter before your air is cut off completely with his tightened grip. 

It’s nothing short of euphoria when your vision begins to blacken around the edges and stars begin to speckle across the room. You hear him moaning behind you as you tense, the feeling of his cum spurting hot and thick inside of you sending you hurtling off the precipice. When he released your throat, a hoarse cry finally chokes free, both of you collapsing down onto the bed, his arm slung over your lower back. You’re both heaving for air, burning and sweating but not caring enough about the heat to separate. 

When your eyes flutter open to the sight of his face you can’t help but smile. His eyes are closed, bangs sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed red, and his lips are still swollen; he looks serene. Your fingers drift to push the hair from his brow, moving down to cup his cheek and there he lays his hand over yours, nuzzling against you in a silent plea to stay.

“Shall I run a bath?” he asks, his lips pressing to your palm, and you hum in agreement, “When I feel like moving then.”

Your lips find his in a slow, lazy kiss, no longer frantic and desperate like before. There's safety in it—a promise—as you both affirm it won’t be the last. 

The other two will be out soon! Thank you so much for reading, comments and reblogs=love

{{Masterlist}}

#geto suguru #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru smut #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

[the-marshals-wife]

Angel Shot (John Wick x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: Just a little something because I missed writing for John and watching all the movies again on winter break has got me feeling inspired. ♥

Description: John Wick x Fem!Reader, protective John fluff | Warnings: mild language, alcohol, suggestive themes, Y/N is harassed/threatened and John intervenes | Setting: before Helen (or AU without her, you decide) | Word count: 1,474

Gif credit: user johnswick

Imagine John coming to your defense when a former associate won't leave you alone

It had been a long week. All you wanted was a moment of peace and a cold drink. Normally, you had no trouble finding that at the bar within the New York Continental. On this night, however, you found yourself wishing you had gone elsewhere. No sooner had you taken the first sip of your cocktail did Rico Augustine spot you from across the room.

You keep your eyes fixed forward and pretend not to notice his approach on your right.

"Look who it is," he announces, mockery in his voice, "The rooftop sniper."

"Rico," you acknowledge placidly. You could already sense this interaction would not remain civil. A quick glance his direction allowed you to take notice of his haggard, unshaven face and wrinkled suit. Even in the subdued glow of the mood lighting, you could see the wildness in his bloodshot eyes as he clutched the edge of the bartop.

"I'd offer to buy you a drink," he starts, leaning in closer, "but considering I'm a little light of funds right now, maybe you should be the one getting me something, huh?"

The alcohol on his breath was strong enough to burn your nose. Apparently, he'd managed to evade both sleep and sobriety since you last spoke.

"I already have one," you say, gesturing with your glass, "And I'm not sure you need another."

"It really is the least you can do, after what you stole from me," he provoked, his disgust poorly veiled.

His proximity, paired with his odor and audacity, set a fire in your blood.

"Are we really going to go over this again?" you ask, turning toward him, "I didn't know you were there last night. I wouldn't have taken the shot if I had. I don't work like that."

"You know that's my territory. I followed that mark for two hours and you took him right out from underneath me. I needed that money," he seethes, drawing out his next words, "You owe me."

You pivot back to the bar, your temper flaring. "It was an open contract, Rico. Just because we worked together on the Morocco Exchange doesn't mean I owe you," you state, taking a swig before speaking once more, "I already gave you a 30% cut, from a profit you didn't earn in the first place. That means we're finished."

His hand flies up to grab your wrist, causing you to drop your drink. The glass rattles and liquid sloshes out as it hits the bartop, but it does not fall over. With the dull roar of music and conversation filling the room, the noise isn't enough to catch the distracted bartender's attention.

"What if I say we're not?" he asks, his voice growling in your ear, "What if we're only finished when I say we are?"

Before you can answer or go for the dagger concealed in your shirt sleeve, you feel the cold steel of a concealed blade begin to dig into your ribs.

"I tried being polite, but you just had to keep flapping those lips of yours."

"You don't want to do this," you warn through gritted teeth.

"Wrong again," he sneers, his gratified tone sending a shiver down your back, "Why don't we continue this conversation up in my room, hm?"

You try to make eye contact with the bartender, but his back is still turned toward you, occupied with a chatty patron. Only one option remained: be even less civil. You try to free your dagger slowly from its sheath on your forearm without Rico noticing. It starts to slide loose as he pulls you toward him with a sickening laugh. The hilt is almost in your palm when, in the mirror on the wall of liquor bottles, you catch a glimpse of someone approaching from behind. They come to stand at your left a few seconds before you hear a voice that brings immediate relief.

"Hey, Y/N."

"Hey, John," you say.

"Nice night," he remarks.

"Sure is," you reply, glancing to him from the corner of your eye.

"Evening, Rico. Can I buy you a drink?" John asks.

"Thanks John, but Y/N and I are about tapped out for the night. Ain't that right?"

You attempt to turn your head towards John, but Rico pushes the blade harder into your side in response.

"Yeah," you say unconvincingly, wincing from the sting, "Thought about ordering an Angel Shot though."

There's a brief silence before John speaks again. "That so?"

"This doesn't concern you, Wick," Rico snarls, his fake cordiality gone in an instant, "Mind your business."

"Actually, you made it my business when you pulled that knife," John responds calmy, "Now, how about that drink? Or shall I make a dinner reservation instead?"

You feel the grip on your arm loosen a bit. Your assailant knew as well as you did what that meant. One of two things awaited him: a whiskey, or a body bag.

Despite the warning, Rico scoffs, looking past you to glare at John.

"Come on, Wick. You and I both know you don't have the balls to break hotel rules," he retorts, his thin lips curling into smirk.

John doesn't blink. "You willing to bet on that?"

You suppress the urge to smile as you watch the reflection of your harasser's face lose its gusto, along with most of the color.

"Last chance, Rico," John says, "Take your hands off her, and walk away."

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Rico narrows his gaze, but lets go of your arm. "Of course. Whatever you say, Baba Yaga," he jeers, rubbing his mouth with his sleeve.

You exhale, but the sweaty brute leans back in close to your face and hisses, "The Boogeyman won't always be there to save you. This isn't over."

Rico starts to walk past you, but John grabs his arm, and tilts his head ever so slightly. "I didn't catch that last part."

He clears his throat, avoiding John's piercing stare. "It was nothing."

"Uh-huh," he deadpans, "Didn't think so."

"What's the matter, Wick? We're all professionals here, aren't we?" he poses; more a begrudged plea for mercy than an inquiry.

"Some of us more than others, it would seem," John replies, proceeding to lower his voice, "If you threaten her again, you'll find out just how professional I can be."

Rico clenches his jaw, his eye twitching in rage. Even as he choked on his own venom, he knew he was beaten. He violently recoils as John releases his arm, straightening his jacket and running a trembling hand through his disheveled hair. You, John, and the rest of the room watch him retreat until he's completely out of sight.

Boogeyman or not, John had a way of drawing attention. The hush that had fallen over the room fades as customers return to their drinks and conversation, no doubt now discussing what sort of gruesome scene they were nearly witnesses to.

John finally turns to you. "Are you alright?"

You nod and smile a bit, "Thanks to you."

"I'm sure you had it handled."

"Yeah, but I wasn't looking forward to scrubbing his blood out of this fabric. You can never find this color, I'd hate to toss it," you chuckle, looking down at your shirt.

"We wouldn't want that," he says, amused.

You replace your tousled hair behind your ear and meet his softened gaze. "Thank you, John."

"You're welcome, Y/N," he says, reaching into his jacket pocket, "You look like you could use a refill."

He holds up an all-too-familiar gold coin, then places it on the bartop. "On me."

"That's two I owe you then," you counter, giving him a knowing look.

"No. You don't owe me anything," he states, kind but firm. The look he gives you in return makes you feel that you shouldn't argue.

"Fair enough," you say, watching the now attentive bartender top off your beverage, "But at least let me get you a bourbon."

John retrieves his phone from another pocket, reading the screen and stowing it back as fast as he'd produced it.

"Thank you, but I'll have to take a raincheck," John says, touching your shoulder before walking away. "Take care of yourself, Y/N."

"You have business elsewhere tonight?" you question, calling after him.

"Yeah," he answers, pausing a moment, "But I won't be checking out for another day or so."

You smirk. "Be seeing you, then?"

He nods, the smallest trace of a smile on his face.

"Be seeing you."

He turns to leave, and your eyes follow him until the last. Drink back in hand, your heart continues its excited drumming. You press the cold crystal to your lips and grin. Perhaps it wasn't such a bad night after all.

"Give 'em hell, John."

#john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick #keanu reeves #my writing #first fic of 2024 #to many more 🥂

[sulieykte]

𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 // 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ✧˚ · . 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗𝒊𝒊

‣ Pairing: Adult!Neteyam (20) x Fem!Omatikaya Reader (19) ‣ Warnings: 18+ mdni, mentions of blood, poor coping mechanisms and life choices. minor jake bashing (i still love you boo), spit as lube, smut (p in v), blink and you'll miss it oral (f receiving), dacryphilia (but not really), ANGST ANGST ANGST ‣ Word Count: 5.4k ‣ A/N: So this has been a long time coming and I apologise for the wait. It's ended up being much longer than I expected and I hope that you all enjoy this. It's the final part to the story, with an epilogue and potential sequel to follow this week and I'd like to thank everyone that's been with me throughout this story, it's given me the chance to get to know so many amazing people and it means so much to me. I need to thank @andraga12 because without her listening to my stressing and talking me down several times, this chapter would have never been finished <3 A lot of this chapter was me being in my feelings about Spider and I'm not gonna feel sorry for that, that's my kid right there. There's a few call backs in this to previous chapters and I'm giving out smooches and hugs for each one anyone catches. As always enjoy, and if you see mistakes before I come back tomorrow to fix them, then no you didn't.

This chapter was inspired by Wrong Direction - Hailee Steinfeld and I recommending listening to it while reading the second scene. English is in bold italics all other dialogue is in Na'vi. ‣ Na'vi word bank: parultsyìp - term of affection for children, tsaheylu - neural connection (bond) tìyawn - love, 'ite - daughter, 'evi - child (affectionate), itan - son, utumauti - banana fruit, tewng - loincloth

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“Come. We have to leave.”

The taste of tears, rain and blood have long since become indistinguishable on your tongue by the time Neteyam manages to coax your crumpled frame from the ground. You struggle to find your footing, whether from the dampened bark or the fact your legs felt intangible beneath you, you aren’t sure. It doesn’t matter as his hands don’t leave you, haven’t left you since he pulled you away from the edge.

A hand on your hip tries to guide you forward, rain slicked lips skimming your ear as they tell you that you need to move. That you can’t stay here. They might come back. You don’t find this to be incentive enough to leave. And you open your mouth to tell him that, to tell him that leaving meant giving up and accepting that Spider was gone. That he wouldn’t climb back up and give you that lopsided grin of his that he always has when he narrowly avoids death on the planet he wasn’t made to survive. But when your lips part, nothing but a pathetic, small whimper comes out.

Hands wrap around your forearms and you’re spun around, forced to face him. Instinct screams at you to move away but he stops your resistance before it can begin, pinning your arms to your side in an iron grip, his face barely an inch away from yours as he demands your attention.

“You need to listen to me… I’m telling you that we need to leave now. There’s nothing we can do for Spider anymore– We don’t know where they’ve taken him, and if they come back, they will kill us… We have to leave.”

Your dried out eyes meet his own pleading gaze, at odds with the firm hold he has on you. You should fight, you should curse him from preventing you from going after Spider. Neteyam would not give a moments thought before going after his family, his siblings. But he keeps you rooted in place, ripping from you your last shred of denial.

“Neteyam? Neteyam, do you copy? Over.”

“Yes, sir. I’m with y/n. En route now. Over.”

“Good…” Jake’s voice drops, barely a murmur but your proximity to Neteyam allows you to hear it. “Is she okay?” Neteyam’s head tilts, golden eyes only catching your own for a second before he looks away, pressing two fingers to his neck. 

“We’re en route now.”

Hands pull you out of Neteyam’s grasp before you can register who they belong to, your head nestled into a shoulder with an exclamation of “Thank God.” as his hand reaches up to cup the back of your head, pressing you further into a father’s embrace. 

“Ma’ite.” Neytiri places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing soft circles with a gentle hand that soothes the shaking of your form, your eyes closed tight to trap any tears that might fall if you allowed yourself to look into any of the eyes that you knew were on you. “Ma’ite, we must leave.” Her voice is pleading, reminiscent of the son that favoured her so much

“We can’t.” You push yourself out of Jake’s embrace, looking up at the man you saw as a second father with pleading eyes. “Please, there’s still time to catch them.” Your eyes find Kiri, eyes red-rimmed from crying and you know she’s made the same case before you. 

“Listen.” Jake takes you by the shoulders, bending his knees to meet your eye-line. “Spider is a tough kid, and he’s one of their own. He’ll be fine.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing, that he would say that, nonetheless believe it. Spider was not one of their own. His body may be human, but his heart was Na’vi. He couldn’t be further from the humans that raise your land for profit. 

“We don’t have time for this kid, we’ll talk about this back at camp.”

“No.” You shake your head, stepping away from him, avoiding Lo’ak’s hands as they reach for you. His eyes can’t quite meet yours as he calls your name and you know he must be feeling the same guilt that you are for not being able to prevent your friend's capture. The guilt would eat you from the inside out, for being the ones to suggest and encourage the excursion that led to it. “I won’t. It’ll be too late by then, we can’t wait!” Tuk tugs on your arm, pleading with you to come with them, but something changes in Jake’s face and you can’t look away. 

“Oh.” Your voice cracks as you put it all together. They have no intention of going after Spider at all. A look around at all of their faces confirms that they already know. Your sorrow is replaced with anger and a desire to scream. You have always looked up to Jake and Neytiri, but at this moment, you feel nothing but contempt towards them. “What, so Sully’s stick together and fuck everyone else?”

Neytiri looks aghast as she reaches out for you, but you move out of her reach. You’d expected it from her, as she had never hidden her dislike for Spider. But Jake, you can't understand how he of all people, who was born human and worked for the RDA, could be so dismissive of Spider's life.

“Parultsyìp, it’s not like that. We’re three ikran short and there’s Tuk.” He actually has the audacity to look hurt at your words. Tuk’s hands tug on you, you spare a glance away from her father and feel a twinge of guilt at seeing the tears filling her eyes. “Please. I can’t lose another one.”

Your neck feels like it could have broken with how quickly your head snaps back towards him. 

“Another one?” Your fists clench at your side, and Neytiri pulls Tuk away from you. Jake’s brows raise in alarm as he watches you. You don’t speak to him like this, you never have and you never thought you would, but the respect you held for him as Olo’eyktan and a father was waning. “Your family got back safe and that’s all you care about.” His jaw tightens and his eyes glisten but he lets you continue. If you’ve stepped over the line, he allows it. “If it wasn’t for your son, and that hero complex of his that’s going to get him killed one day, I wouldn’t even be here right now– But that’s fine, Sully’s stick together… and I’m not a Sully.”

"Enough," Neteyam growls, gripping your forearm and pulling you backwards. You stumble into his chest. His voice softens when you turn to face him, the hostility you had toward his father now directed at him. "You've made your point. Let's go.”

As he pulls you away, you don’t turn to face the rest of his family. There’s no energy left in you to fight him as he pushes you up onto the back of his Ikran. Neither of you speaks on the journey back to High Camp and you’re grateful that he allows you the time to give in to your exhaustion, resting your back against his chest and letting your eyes drift shut.

Neteyam rouses you shortly before you arrive home and you hop down from his Ikran before he has a chance to break Tsaheylu. You hear Lo’ak call out for you, but you don’t look back. Leaving the Sully’s behind as you make your way back to your Marui.

“Ma’ite, please.” The desperation is evident in your mothers voice even as you avoid her gaze. “You are not thinking clearly, Spider would not want this.” 

She crosses the tent, crouching down next to you, her hand wraps around the shaft of the arrow you’re diligently coating the tip of with the toxins of the anìheyu plant. The plant had once provided you with a name for your Ikran, fitting for the mount of a warrior, your father had declared, smile exuding pride as he urged you to take your first flight and seal the bond. 

Now as you stare into the bowl of toxin that would kill you if it penetrated your bloodstream, tightening your hold on your coated arrows to prevent your mother from tearing them from your grasp, you think of Spider. Of how the same plant provided the pigment he painted himself with, in a futile attempt to be seen by the members of the clan that would refused to see past the violence of his heritage, though he was born only a stone's throw from where you yourself were born, though his blood ran as red as yours, they could not accept him. They could not see him. Not like you did, and they left him behind as though his life meant nothing.

“Let go.” Your voice is low, strained from distress. You meet her eyes, rimmed with tears but set with determination as she refuses you. Your mother was soft, a gentle woman who led a life devoted to the clan, to the care of others but that gentleness was now replaced with a fire that met your own as she tugs the weapon from your hand with strength you didn’t know she had.

“Ma’evi, I know what Spider means to you.” She places the arrow behind her, out of your immediate reach and cups your face in her hands. “I care for him too, and that is how I know that he wouldn’t wish for this… You would die before you reach their gates and you know this.” In that moment you see all of her years etched in her face, the grief and the terror she holds at the loss of her mate and the thought that she could lose you too. 

She’s right, Spider wouldn’t want you to embark on a suicide mission to save him, nor would he wish for anyone to go after him and risk their lives for his, but you know that deep down, if he heard of Jake’s refusal to even entertain a rescue attempt it would crush him as deeply as it did you. 

“I know that, but if I don’t try, then who else is going to fight for him?” You cough away the tightness in your throat and gently pull your face out of her tender hold. Standing, you cross the tent away from her, and reach for the bow you carved from the ruins of hometree. You run the pad of your finger along the limb, tracing the letters that Spider had etched into the wood, five of them that he said represented the names of each of the Sully siblings and your own, the sixth that you insisted that he add was his own. “I won’t leave him behind.”

Her eyes fill with tears and your own well up in a response, but you quickly blink them away. The weight of impending loss is heavy in the air between you, and if you looked into her eyes for a second longer, you’re sure you might catch the moment that she begins to mourn you, knowing that she’s helpless to stop you. After all, she raised you to hold fast to your convictions and what you believe to be right.

The silence that settles between you is broken by the clearing of a throat, and your mother turns, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand before she greets the person entering the tent.

“I see you, Neteyam. What brings you here ma’itan?”

Heart pounding, you turn to find his eyes are already on you, lips parted in something that might be surprise as his gaze flickers down to the bow in your hand, before he gathers himself and returns your mothers gesture.

“I see you, Auntie. I’m here to see y/n, would you mind giving us some time to speak?” 

Her ears dip, and her forehead furrows as she looks back and forth between the two of you. It isn’t difficult to guess what is going through her mind after finding you asleep in each other's arms the previous night. After years of trying to get you two to play nice, you can only imagine the confusion she must have felt at finding you tangled together. It must be why she relents so easily, despite your pleading look and the shake of your head. 

“Of course, I wanted to speak to your mother anyway.” She says before leaving, sparing you a concerned glance as she walks past Neteyam and exits the Marui, abandoning you with the last person you want to be alone with.

“Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.” 

He doesn’t speak, he just looks at you, his eyes travelling up your body, stalling at the bow in your hand for a moment before they find your face and his features soften for a split second before his jaw hardens and he crosses the tent, tail lashing behind him as he closes in on you. Your back hits the wall of the tent as you fail to retain the space between and his hand closes around your wrist.

He leans in, breath hot against your face, adrenaline rushing your veins at his touch. Too close, too comfortable laying hands on you and you’re far too willing to allow it. It’s tempting to be drawn in by him, to the side of him that you had never had the pleasure of knowing, but you know in your heart that this won’t endure. This is not your Neteyam, your Neteyam is all teeth and claws, the burning desire to hurt and be hurt in the name of gaining power over one another.

“Let go of me Neteyam.” Your voice betrays you, coming out far too soft to have your desired effect. He doesn’t let go of you, his grip tightens, squeezing at the echo of the bruises he’d left on you before and his other hand comes to wrap around the hand that holds your bow.

“If you think I’m going to let you run off and get yourself killed–” He pauses, gritting his teeth. “This–” He squeezes your hand around the bow. “It’s a suicide mission, you don’t even know where they’ve taken him. You aren’t thinking clearly… What are you going to do, storm their city alone?”

Alone. 

“If that’s what it takes.” Your nose brushes against his as you lift your chin to look him in the eyes. His nose scrunches, as though the action tickles him His breath catches in his throat, and the tension thickens in the air, sending shivers down your spine. But he recovers first, using your distraction to gently pull your bow from your hand, a firm hand against your chest knocking you back when you attempt to seize it back.

“Enough. Have you even thought about what could happen if you don’t die? If they capture you?” You hadn’t considered that option, and your face must give that away. “No, you haven’t. It’s bad enough that they have Spider, he knows everything about this place, he could already lead them right here– I know, I know he wouldn’t” He stems your argument with a raised palm. “Not willingly… but we know what the Sky People are capable of.” 

He places your bow on its stand and grabs both your hands in his, they’re warm big enough that your own disappear in their hold. “You’ve attended war councils, and were cared for by the Olo’eyktan and Tsakarem. If they captured you–” He swallows, squeezing your hands more tightly in his own. “They could bring our whole operation to the ground.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you, bitter and sharp as you pull your hands from his. “Is that all you care about? The war efforts?” He reaches out for you again, but you push his hands away. Pacing back and forth, you press the palms of your hands against your eyes as tears threaten to escape and shatter your resolve. 

It always came down to the war. For the past year, since the Sky People had returned it had been all consuming and you understood. You understood when it took your home, even when it took your father from you, he had been a warrior and chosen to fight. However, you couldn’t understand how they could be so callous, uncaring for the man who they had known since birth.

“Sometimes, when you open your mouth all I can hear is your fathers voice. I know you look up to him, but at this point it’s pathological.” You uncover your eyes and he’s watching you, eyes boring into your face with something that doesn’t quite reach anger. “So what is the plan? They have Spider and you’re so sure that he’ll give us away. What do we do now, mighty warrior?”

“We’re leaving.” 

“What?” You’re stopped in your tracks, searching his eyes for the truth in his words. You find it and either of you takes a breath as your resolve falters long enough for a tear to fall free from your eye. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”

“My family, it’s my dad they’re after and they won’t stop until they find him.” His family, your  family were leaving. “This will protect the people.” He continues, sweeping a hand through his braids. “If we stay here you will all die protecting us, this is what’s for the best.” He almost sounds like he believes it, the crack in his voice the only thing giving him away.

“So you’re telling me that you want to leave your home?” Your voice is shaking, you’ve given away all pretences that you are fine. How could you be? Faced as you are with another loss. One night and you would lose nearly everyone you held dear, leaving you with only your mother. How was that fair? How could that be what the great mother intended for you? 

“Of course I don’t, my entire life is here. Everything I’ve ever known and trained for is here. I’m giving up everything, my birthright.” His eyes sparkle with tears you once would have loved to see fall, now they match your own as you both struggle to come to terms with the loss this night had cost you. “But my father is right. It’s the only way to keep y– everyone safe. It’s the best thing we can do for the people.”

“Why don’t you stay?” His brow raises in surprise, as taken aback as you are that you would even ask that, because you already know the answer. “You could take your father’s place as Olo’ekytan. Stay… Stay and fight for the people.”

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks, his ears drop as he takes a step towards you, the conflict etched in his features as his hand rises and for a second you think he might reach out and touch you once more. Your heartbeat picks up in anticipation only to falter when he lets his hand fall back to his side.

That isn’t a question you can answer because you don’t even know yourself. You’re not even sure you mean it, if you’re really asking him to stay or you’re just grasping at one last hope that not everyone will leave you. 

“If I did, would you?” 

His answer never comes, it doesn’t need to. Sully’s stick together. You’d heard it so many times, even believed once that you were included in that. The words he’d intended to say before Jake stopped him, that you weren’t his family, now ring in your ears as your head falls into your hands. It feels like your chest might collapse in on itself as the realisation hits you, that you’ll never see Spider again, that Lo’ak and Kiri will leave you too, you’ll never see little Tuk grow up and pass her Iknimaya. You will never feel safety in the comfort and guidance of Jake and Neytiri again. 

He gently pries your fingers away and takes your face in his hands. You can feel the warmth of his palm against your cheek, the sweet floral scent filling your senses as he wipes away the remnants of the night's trauma, the blood still dried into your skin, with the cloth your mother had left aside for you, You meet his eyes filled with sincerity and regret as he utters a soft apology.

“I hate you.” You tell him with as much vitriol as you can muster. For the first time since you began this bitter war, you don’t mean it. He had put you through so much hurt, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him anymore. The lines between love and hate had blurred and you’d become addicted to the moments in between, the exhilaration of being touched and desired by Neteyam. “I hate you so much.”

“I know.” 

As he runs the cloth along your lower lip, you feel his finger catch on the corner of your mouth. Your breathing is momentarily interrupted. He is staring intently at your lips, his own parted mirroring your own as he cleanses your skin until all the red that was once there now stains the fabric.  

You’re swept up in the moment, driven by insanity or desperation when you capture his lips with your own. With a fierce intensity that knocks him back, causes him to drop the bloodied cloth and catch your arms, wrapping his fingers around them and gently pushes you away from him.

“What are you doing?” He looks down at you with piercing golden eyes and his voice barely above a whisper, he asks a question you know the answer to now. You’re chasing the ecstasy of his touch, and you don’t care about the painful aftermath that would follow if, for just a moment, you don’t have to think or feel the enormity of your loss. You’ll take every second of numbness he can provide.

You reach for the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss, giving in to the rush of adrenaline when he doesn’t push you away again. You feel his hands find your waist and pull you in closer, your bodies pressing together as you explore each other's mouths. He parts his lips and you accept the invitation, tongue swiping against his, the taste of utumauti and fragrance of flora mixing together and filling your senses.

It’s not enough. You reach in between your bodies and press a palm over his tewng, delighting in finding his arousal already straining against the material and his moan that vibrates against your tongue as you roll your palm against him. His fingers dig deeper into your skin, bruising in the best way possible as he grinds against you his desire for you evident and thrilling. You smirk against his lips and he breaks apart only for a second to speak.

“Shut up,” and his lips are on yours again.

His tewng has to go, both of you seem to decide this at the same time. Without breaking the kiss, each of you reach down to pull at the strings until it’s discarded on the ground and his length hits your stomach and leaves a trail of precum on your skin before you take it in your grasp. You give it a couple of experimental pumps, his breath catching in his throat as his lips finally leave yours.

Your eyes meet as you slowly pump him, chests heaving against each other, the air thick and heavy with lust and neither of you needs to say a thing. It’s bittersweet, knowing that this will be the last time you have each other and you can’t pinpoint why your stomach sinks at the thought. You focus instead on the sensations of his skin against yours, his grip tightening on you, the way he smells of the forest and rain. 

You maintain eye contact as you spit into your hand. His eyes widen and his knees buckle as you wrap your hand around his cock and spread it along his length. His head falls into the crook of your neck, muffling a whimper as you quicken your pace. It goes straight to your core when he latches onto your skin, sucking a mark where the previous had not long faded, weeks of elaborate necklaces working hard to hide the evidence of your previous trysts.

He steps back, and you raise a brow in question and he looks pained when he removes your hand. Your expression must have given away your disappointment, your worry that he was about to put an end to this and leave you alone once more.

“Tìyawn.” He says through panted breaths. “Tell me you want this.”

This time you do not have to think before you answer, you don’t have it in you any more to deny that you want him, to him or yourself.

“I want this.”

He has you on the mat so fast that your head is spinning when he looms over you, braids tickling your nose before he leans down and presses his lips to yours. His kisses are gentle, delicate as he moves from your lips and travels down your body. Lifting your chest covering to show appreciation to your breasts, he runs the tip of his tongue in circles around your hardened peak. 

His hands run down your sides until they find your hips, playing with the strings of your tewng as his mouth leaves your nipple and follows his fingers. He alternates between kisses and sucking marks into the skin of your stomach. He’s too close, yet not close enough to where you really want him to be. 

“Teyam.” You whine, he looks up at you through heavy lidded eyes from where he’s settled between your legs. It’s a beautiful sight that forces you to take a sharp intake of breath. Your thighs are already soaked with your slick when you watch him pry them open. There isn’t enough time, not to have him how you really want him, you don’t know when your mother will return and you’re not willing to risk interruption. “I need you.”

He seems to gather what you mean from the few words that you can mumble. He taps your hip and you raise yourself, allowing him to discard your tewng before spreading you out before himself like a meal he can’t wait to consume. He runs his hands up and down your thighs and you clench around nothing when he leans in and places a kiss at your center.

“Maybe another time.” He sighs, and it seems like he’s speaking to your cunt more than you. He runs a flat tongue along your slit and places a chaste kiss on your clit that sends a jolt of electricity through your body before he crawls up your form. His lips crash against yours, tongue pushing into your mouth to give you a taste of yourself, meeting your urgency with his own.

His tail wraps around your thigh, encouraging you to wrap it around his waist. Your other leg follows, pulling him in tight. With his arms caging you in, there’s barely an inch of skin left untouched. He rolls his hips and coats his length with your slick, and without warning, he pushes his entire length inside of you in one thrust.

Your body accommodates him, moulding to the shape of him as if it were its only purpose. You fight to steady your breathing, clutching at his toned back as you get used to the stretch. Neteyam does the same, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he composes himself.

"Please," you whisper, but he hears and answers. He rolls his hips, building a steady pace and lifting up onto his elbows and looking down at you. When your eyes meet, the intensity of his gaze is too much and you have to shut your eyes. You squeeze your legs tighter around his waist, focusing on the sensations and pleasure he's giving you.

“Open your eyes.”

As he grips your waist tightly, you can feel the heat emanating from his body. You try to gain control of the rhythm by rolling your hips, but he resists your attempt to take over. You feel his hands move up to your face, his fingers gently gripping your jaw. You turn your head towards him and feel his hot breath on your cheek. He repeats his command, his voice low and seductive, sending shivers down your spine.

"Don't." Your voice breaks and he stills above you. You open your eyes, glistening with the emotions you'd been desperate to numb. You feel the tears streaming down your face and the lump forming in your throat. 

"Please-" you shake your head, unable to avoid his approaching hand as he reaches to brush away your tears. His calloused fingers are soft against your cheek as they go about their task. You close your eyes and lean into his touch, relishing the warmth of his hand on your skin.

But this is not what you need, not what you want from him at this moment. This gentle Neteyam serves only as a reminder of all that has changed over the past few weeks. He reminds you of the pain and the loss, all the things you’re desperate to forget.

“What do you need from me?” 

You blink hard, finding the courage to stare into his concerned gaze. He’s giving the control over to you, making no move to pull out of you until you say so. 

“I–I need you.” You find your voice, as you contain the emotions escaping your body through shaken breaths. You hope that he still has it in him one more time to be a little cruel, to heal your wounds and replace them with new ones. “I need you to fuck me Neteyam.”

His ears flatten against his head, the seeds of doubt evident on his face, but he obliges you anyway even if it looks like it pains him to do so. His grip on your jaw tightens and his hips build up to a bruising pace.

He lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder giving him the right angle to slam into your cervix.  You cry out, arching your back as he hits that sweet spot inside of you again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin filling the Marui, mingling with your moans and his grunts. You claw at his back, etching streaks of crimson into his skin, as he pounds into you.

"Teyam, I'm--" you struggle to speak against the force of his thrusts. He lifts onto his knees and hooks his hands under your thighs, pressing your legs up until they meet your chest. Your eyes roll back and your walls convulse around his cock as you tumble over the edge.

Neteyam maintains his pace, fucking you through your release. He’s buried impossibly deep inside of you, watching the way he slides in and out of you at a brutal pace that only falters when his own climax hits him and he spills his seed inside of you.. 

He stills inside of you, catching himself with strong arms before falling on top of you. Both of you struggle to catch your breath as you come down from your highs. You feel cold and empty when he pulls out of you, the mixture of cum dripping out onto the mat as he rolls onto his back beside you.

Neither of you speak for what speaks for what feels like hours, but you know it has been barely minutes when his breathing returns to normal and he breaks the silence.

“Are you okay?”

You laugh and you really can’t help it. 

“Tìyawn?” He rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbow, gazing at you with concern as your laughter evolves into a sob that shakes your whole body. He reaches out for your face, but this time you stop him, catching his hand and pushing it away before he can touch you.

“Leave.” The force behind your voice surprises yourself as much as it does him. His brows furrow as he tries to work out if you’re serious. “Please, just go.”

You watch as he dresses himself, his movements slow and deliberate. You wonder if he’s waiting for you to call out for him, to ask him to stay, but you don’t. You watch as he throws you one last lingering glance over his shoulder before he leaves you. 

And you’re truly alone.

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[sleepingdeath-light]

how verosika mayday would seduce a female s/o hcs ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (06/01/23)

fandom(s) ; helluva boss

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; verosika mayday

outline ; “For the sapphic request, could we get some of the seduction techniques Verosica from Helluva boss would use on a reader. As NSFW as you’d like for this”

warning(s) ; extremely suggestive content, sexual flirting, references to sex

note ; potentially shaky characterisation as its been a while since i’ve seen the series

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

verosika, being a succubus with more than her fair share of experience in seducing mortals and demons alike, would know exactly what to do to get you wrapped around her finger in no time at all — tailoring her techniques to whichever version of her you know or come to know the best

if you’re a mortal and just know her as this famous pop star, then she’s going to give you an experience that most groupies can only dream of: having one of the other disguised succubi/incubi invite you backstage on her behalf, strategically altering her outfit to accentuate her breasts and thighs before you enter, laying it on thick with the flirting the second you’re alone (e.g. calling you ‘hot’, ‘sexy’, ‘eye catching’, and ‘breath taking’), slowly introducing more physical touch as you give in to her advances and start reciprocating (light brushes on your arm/thigh when you’re sat together that escalate to her sliding her hand up and under the skirt you’re wearing whilst you try and keep on talking), teasing you until you snap and straddle her at which point she gives you exactly what she’s made you want

needless to say, by the time she’s had her way with you, you’ll be struggling to walk and too pussy drink to even speak whilst she practically skips back off to hell with your slick still clinging to her lips

if you’re a demon that catches her eye at ozzy’s club whilst she’s working there, then she takes on a much more blatant approach

she sways her hips, dips her body down low so that you’re eye-level with her chest, gets a bit touchier than usual during her performance (focusing particularly on your chest if you’re wearing a low cut top/dress — and if you happen to have horns then you can guarantee that she’ll be focusing on those too), approaches you once she’s done and either lures you away to somewhere more private or eats you out where you’re sitting no matter who might see/hear (it is ozzy’s, after all, so it’s hardly out of the ordinary) depending on what your preference is

and if you’re an especially good/attractive fuck then she might just put her number on your phone and invite you to seek her out for an encour later on…

no matter how she finds you, though, once you catch her eye she does tend to fall into a certain pattern: playing with your hair (if it’s long enough for her to do so), stroking your forearms, massaging her way up from your hips to your breasts, eyeing up your chest/ass/thighs in a way that’s impossible to miss (whichever is most visible to her at the time), and calling you things along the lines of ‘good girl’, ‘pretty little thing’, ‘princess’ and, once she finally has you in her grasp, ‘slut’ (intermixing praise and degradation in a well-practised way that has you flustered and wanting for more)

whether she actually wants to keep in contact with you after the fact (be that as fuck buddies, girlfriends, or anything else along those lines) or is just using you to spread her sin of choice remains entirely up to just how much fun she has with you — yes, even if you’re human (though you’d need to be pretty extraordinary to catch her eye for more than just a quick fuck)

#sleepingdeath #female reader #suggestive hcs #helluva boss x reader #verosika mayday x reader #smut hcs #smut #minors dni #minors will be blocked #ageless blogs dni #ageless blogs will be blocked #helluva boss smut #verosika mayday smut

[gurugirl]

Sneaky for part 3 of unicorn? I'm so excited guru you don't understand!

I'm so glad you're excited!!! I'm just over 4800 words into part 3 now. I'll give you a little something below the cut :) Thank you!!

I would give you guys more but there's so much going on in this part that some bits would just give too much away. Also this is raw from my drafts and not edited or proofread so the final version might look a little different. xoxo

Part 1 | Part 2

Jax bought the first pitcher as the rest of you claimed a nice table close to the dart boards at the back of the bar. It was a Friday night so the place got packed not long after you’d arrived.

You lost badly at the first game of darts which meant the next pitcher of beer was on you. You frowned exaggeratedly at the rule that the loser buys the beer, but the truth was that you were feeling amazing. It was nice to not be sitting at home thinking about things that you shouldn’t be. The distraction was welcome. Being out with friends was refreshing.

Waving at the bartender you placed the empty pitcher down and dug into your front pocket for some cash to pay your turn. But a sudden feeling came over you. Like you were being watched. Or noticed at least. You casually looked to your right and then to your left but you saw no one looking at you. And no one looked familiar.

“Another pitcher of beer?” The guy asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“Oh! Yes, please.”

With that strange feeling crawling its way up your spine you turned slowly and looked back at your friends and then to the table next to the window.

You jolted and felt your scalp prick and fingertips sizzle when you made eye contact with him. Harry. He was seated at a high-top table. He appeared to be alone.

He lifted a hand in greeting before bringing it back down to grasp his pint and looked out the window.

You hadn’t even become unfrozen from the shock of seeing him by the time the bartender was back with your pitcher. You settled up with him and looked back to where Harry was seated. He didn’t look back at you. You wondered how long he’d been there. Had he seen you before you walked up to the bar?

“Hey, here’s the pitcher,” you placed it at the center of the table. “I’m gonna sit this game out. Someone I know is here and I’m gonna go say hi.”

After refilling your glass you hesitantly made your way to Harry. The least you could do was say hi. You had wondered about him all this time and had been tempted to text him a time or two but never felt it was right.

“Hi.” You stood next to his table, at a safe distance in case he wasn’t interested in talking.

He pulled his gaze away from whatever he was looking at outside to you, “Hi, Y/n.”

“I was, uh, surprised to see you. I don’t want to bother you. I just–“

“Sit if you want,” he gestured at the other stool. So obviously you did, placing your glass on the table and keeping your eyes on him.

Harry took a sip of his beer and his eyes were as deep and full of warmth as ever.

“How have you been?” You asked. You didn’t really know what to say to him. Which was silly when you thought about it.

“Things are complicated at home. But I’m okay. How are you?”

You shrugged as you took a drink from your glass, “Good. School’s been good. Here for a night without worrying about homework and quizzes. Just needed a night out with some friends.”

He nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms onto the lacquered wooden tabletop, caging in his beer, “I’ve wanted to text you to see how you were doing but figured you wouldn’t want to hear from me again after what happened.”

You pinched your brows together and shook your head, “That’s not… I wish you would have. I wanted to text you a few times too. Just to check-in. I’ve missed you guys.”

“The boys really miss you. They talk about you still. I mean…” he rotated his arm so his palm was face up in a passive gesture, “it hasn’t been that long since– well, anyway.”

You smiled, “I miss them a lot. Hey, did Warner ever finish learning that song on the piano you were teaching him? He was doing so well learning the parts. I kind of hoped to hear him complete it but then…” you didn’t dare finish that sentence.

Harry grinned. It was the first genuine smile you’d seen from him since you approached him.

“Yeah. He’s pretty much got it down now. I’m really proud of him. He’s gonna be starting guitar and singing lessons soon. He wants to learn to start a band with some friends so I encouraged him to take some lessons.”

“Takes after his father. Musically talented.” You gleamed at Harry.

Harry gulped the lump down his throat. He had really missed you around. But he’d been quite caught up in the aftermath of that night with Kit ever since. That night had changed everything.

“Ahh, I just dabble. Warner has real natural talent.”

You couldn’t be sure but you thought the apples of his cheeks were turning a shade pinker than they had been.

“I’ve heard you play the piano and sing. I’d say you have plenty of natural talent, Harry.”

You meant it too. He had a beautiful voice full of dark timbre and vibrant airy notes. And of course, he was so confident when he sang that if he had told you he made an album and played for audiences in sold-out venues you would have believed it.

“That’s nice to hear. Thank you, Y/n,” you watched a dimple slowly work its way deeper into his cheek as his smile widened. It was nice to see him smile.

You both sat quietly for a bit looking out the window at the dark street as cars drove by, headlamps beaming over the dark asphalt. You wondered if you should press him more about how he really was. You could tell something was off. He wasn’t as happy as he normally was. And when he told you things were complicated at home you figured it had something to do with Kit.

Tags (for The Unicorn): @littlenatilda @harryspirate @itsmytimetoodream @princessaxoo @summertime-pills @egirlshit @chesthairrry @idontknowbi @f1n3l1n3 @tpwk-sophie @justtilly @fictionalmensblog @harrrystyles5 @gem1712

#harry styles #harry styles smut #ask #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #firstpost #the unicorn #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #dilf!harry #daddy harry #harry styles daddy #nanny!reader #nanny!yn #harry styles fiction #harry styles x yn #harry styles fan fic #harry #harry smut #harry edward styles

[therandomficwriter]

Crossing All The Lines

Who: Aaron Hotchner

What: Reader has feelings for Aaron and dances around them with quick glances when you think he’s not looking. Then reader gets hurt and accidentally confesses in the heat of the moment.

Request: Nope

Warnings: Typical canon criminal minds violence, talks of getting shot, blood, Slight age gap but otherwise age isn’t mentioned, etc. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

A/n: I know its been forever since I've written anything but I’m back into my criminal minds binge and currently have Hotch brain rot so yeah,,, n e ways please feel free to enjoy! A/n 2: Ngl I've been working on this one since June of 2023 and barely finished it now (Feb. 2024) so this was a loooooong wip but besides that i really hope you guys like it!

You guys have been going at it for hours now. The sun had set long ago and many of the officers have gone home, the new shift well settled into their stations.

Despite the amount of time you and the team had spent trying to get to the bottom of the unsub’s reasoning, which would bring you guys one step closer to finding out who it might be, you are no closer to figuring it out now than this morning.

Reid is going off on another one of his tangents and you are trying desperately to pay attention and keep your mind from wandering, the late hour not helping you much.

Everyone is in a different form of concentration but, none the less, in a similar state of exhaustion. Morgan is slouched in his chair, head in his hand, Rossi on his fourth, maybe fifth, cup of coffee, but there’s one person you can’t help but let your eyes wander towards.

Hotch stands at the head of the table, arms crossed on his chest, tiredness prominent in his features. Your eyes follow him as he moves across the room, removing his suit jacket and discarding it onto a chair. Moving back to his original spot, he rolls his sleeves slightly up to rest upon his forearms, then loosens his tie ever so slightly.

He leans over the table and opens his mouth to begin talking but, if you are being honest, not a single word is heard by you. Your eyes stay glued to his arm, his muscles flexing slightly from the way he is gripping the edge of the table.

You try to pay attention, really you do, but it is no use. Your sleep deprived brain is not allowing you to focus on anything but the man in front of you. If you are being honest, you have grown feelings for him but you don’t dare act on them. I mean how can you blame yourself? There is just so much you admire about him, you can possibly go on for hours just listing off the reasons.

As your mind seems to drift off, you don’t seem to notice Hotch has caught on to what you were doing.

Feeling eyes on him, he glances around the room and soon catches your eye. Upon meeting his eyes, yours slightly widen and you quickly look down, willing your face to not heat up at being caught with your shameless stares. You swear at yourself thinking if he brings it up you’d blame it on the late hour and lack of proper sleep.

Unknown to you Hotch’s lips quirk up, amused at your reaction to being caught, chuckling softly to himself. He looks around the room once again, taking note of the tired faces of his team and decides to speak up.

“All right team, let’s call it a night. We’ll pick this back up in the morning when we’re all rested. Maybe then we will be able to think about this more clearly.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, the team quickly gathers their belongings and heads out of the station towards their shared vehicles.

The ride back to the hotel was uneventful as everyone split off into groups between the two SUVs. You opted to ride with Hotch and Rossi taking advantage of their silent personas, definitely not because you favored the first of the two.

Taking your place behind the passenger seat, you quickly got as comfortable as possible on your way back to the hotel. Usually you would try to fill in the silence with different topics varying from the case you guys were currently investigating to what book you were reading at the moment, but right now you could barely form coherent sentences with your sleep deprived mind.

You could feel yourself slowly drifting off, the smooth ride and the sound of the car moving along the street help bring you into a deep slumber.

Unbeknownst to you a pair of eyes traveled across your sleeping form, glancing back and forth between you and the road. A small sigh escapes his mouth as he notices your breathing even out.

Hearing someone clear their throat, Hotch casts his eyes toward the passenger seat where Rossi is sitting with a knowing look on his face. His eyes turn back to the road.

"Dave..." he says quietly, tone coming out as a warning.

Rossi raises his hands in defense, keeping his voice down as well "I didn't say anything."

"I know that look. You have something you want to say," Hotch mutters, face annoyed.

"Aaron in know that look on your face. How long are you planning on keeping her in the dark? You deserve to be happy and I can tell she is the reason your mood has improved a lot lately," Rossi keeps his voice low as to not wake you up.

Hotch moves his eyes towards you one more time, taking in your features, he notices the slightest content smile on your face not having a worry in the world while sleeping. He lets out a deep sigh eyes leaving your figure and focusing completely on the road.

"Because I am her boss and she is my subordinate. I can not cross that line even if i wanted to. I can only imagine what the higher ups would say if they found out."

"Besides she deserves someone better, someone closer to her age, someone her could provide her with everything she could want or need. Why would she want someone like me," he finished off.

Rossi shook his head, "You, my friend, are completely clueless. How could she not want to be with you? Have you seen the way she looks at you? And don't give me that B.S. about your status as her boss, as if that matters. Trust me Aaron, that girl would follow you through hell and back if you asked her and i know you would do just the same."

Hotch let Rossi's words sink in. He kept his head forward, choosing not to reply in order to completely shut down this conversation, not wanting to get his hopes up too high.

Luckily the hotel quickly came into view and Hotch felt himself relax slightly. As soon as the suvs were parked everyone got off and split up and made their separate ways into their hotel rooms. Getting off, Hotch made his way to the back passanger side to wake you and send you off to sleep in your room.

He got to his own room, going through his normal night time routine before slipping into bed. Despite the late hour and lack of proper sleep the night before, his mind seemed to run non stop. It wasn't the unresolved case or fact that the unsubs motive was hard to pinpoint.

No, his mind seemed to be full of you. The conversation with Rossi seemed to have kickstarted his thoughts into a spiral. Eventually he drifted off to sleep his final thought of you and what he believes could never be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually you and the team had finally managed to find the link between the victims and his motive became clear. Richard Cornwall, a local who lives in the outskirts of town on his family ranch had been taking the victims and making them weaken enough to use in his own version of "hunting."

The evidence pointed to you all that he was a narcissist that believed he was too good at hunting the local game that it no longer was fun to him. So he thought that using real people would provide more of a challenge, that way he could really prove he was the best and what he did.

Currently on route to the Cornwall family ranch, y'all prepared yourselves. It was common knowledge that he was a hunter so you knew he had to have a surplus of weapons as well as being on the look out for and traps he might have left around the property.

Parking the suvs in front of the main house, you split up to survey the property looking for Cornwall and the latest person he had kidnapped.

While the rest of the team searched the two story house, you, Hotch, and Reid had taken the left side of the property going straight towards the barn, stalls, and the field. You noticed a deer blind a little ways away in the field making a mental note to take a sweep of it after checking out the barn.

After clearing the stalls, you guys made your way though the barn with no signs of Cornwall or the victim. Reid noticed a corner of the barn that seemed to be where he left the vicitms to bleed out. The deep red was splattered on the walls and completely covered the floor. Hotch took note of it saying he would get forensics to take samples of it.

As you guys began to exit the barn after clearing it you turned your head towards Hotch and Reid to tell them about the structure you saw in the middle of the field. As soon as you opened your mouth, the sound of a gun shot rang though the air.

You were down within a second, the shot hitting you right in your left shoulder causing you to let out a scream, your other hand reaching out to hold onto the wound. You began to feel lightheaded, the blood coming from your shoulder seemed to be never ending.

Hotch and Reid quickly crouched down taking cover in the barn as another shot rang out. They each grabbed one of your arms pulling you inside to safety with them. The yell you let out was worse than anything Hotch had heard, he could only imagine the pain you were feeling right now.

He radioed the rest of the team and the rest of the officers to let them know to be on the lookout notifying them you were currently down. They only know the general direction the shot came from, not too sure where Cornwall was.

"The blind" you let out weakly.

Reid spotted the deer blind a little ways out in the field and let everyone else know the location so they could proceed with caution.

You on the other hand, felt like you would pass out any second now. You felt like you were on fire, your shoulder growing heavier by the second. Soon your vision started getting spotty, white dots littered your sight as you tried to blink them away, tears streamed down your face from the pain.

Hotch turned to look at you to make sure you were alright but quickly noticed the flushed look on your face, your lips were pale, a sign you were soon to faint.

"Hey, L/N, look at me. You need to stay awake for me." he urged, shaking your head a bit to stimulate you.

The sound of his voice was coming in and out, growing louder then getting harder to hear, your ears no longer wanting to work. You blinked a bit trying to focus on him and what he was currently saying to you.

"Y/N, you're losing a lot of blood, they might have to do a blood transfusion at the hospital," he ushers out, desperation evident in his voice, "What is your type?"

In your current state, you tried hard to process what he was asking you. You vision was quickly growing worse and it was getting harder to hear him. You let out the first thing that came to your mind.

"You."

The last thing you heard was JJ's voice over the coms informing they had got unsub in custody and finally found the last victim who was luckily alive. Black soon consumed your vision and you were out like a light.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The feeling of the ground rumbling beneath you was the first hint to you that you were slowly gaining consciousness.

Soon the low sounds of a siren could be heard, slightly muffled to you. You tried desperately to open your eyes but you couldn’t find the strength. But you could feel a weight in your hand and you tried to flex your hand, your fingers twitching slightly.

At that you could have sworn you heard what sounded like your name. You tried to focus your hearing a bit more.

“Y/N,” you heard a man say.

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before somewhere. The sound of it seemed to make you calmer. At the sound of his voice again you tried once more to open your eyes.

A blinding light above you is the first thing you see, yet everything still seemed to be foggy. You glance at you surroundings, your eyes barely open a crack. That is when you see him.

He looked absolutely ethereal, you could’ve sworn he was an angel here on earth. The bright glow from the lights casted a halo around him. But there’s no way he could be here right now. He opens his mouth to speak again.

“Y/N, are you alright? Do you need anything? We are heading to the hospital right now, we should be there any moment.”

You stared at him for what seemed like forever just taking him in. His sentence went in one ear and out the other, as if he never said anything to begin with, as if he wasn’t even then, a mere figment of your imagination. You couldn’t wrap your head around what was going on or where you were. The only thing you could say was what you were currently thinking.

“I dream of you so often, I don’t know if you’re even real.”

And with that you felt yourself slowly slipping back into unconsciousness. The sound of that man’s voice imbedded deep in your mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A low beeping lulled you out of your unconscious state. Your eyelids felt heavy, as if they were made of concrete, not allowing you to open them just yet. You stayed there unmoving, trying to get accustomed to your surroundings, willing yourself to try and feel anything around you.

You could feel the soft pillow underneath your head and the, somewhat, stiff bed underneath you. In your head, you knew your were laying in a bed somewhere, but for the life of you, you could not recall a single thing that happened to you or where you could possibly be at this moment.

Racking your brain, you tried desperately to remember what was going on. The last thing you remembered was that you and the team had a case you were working on. Where was it? Oh, right, you guys were currently in Texas. The unsub was a fisherman? No, wait, a hunter.

As you started to recall more and more of the case it all started to come back to you. You, Hotch, and Reid were searching the barn. That's right, you were right on his trail and then... he shot you.

'Wait Hotch, Reid, are they alright?'

Your eyes suddenly shot open at the thought of your friends hurt. Wincing at the sudden bright light around you, you blinking trying to get used to the sight around you.

At the same time, all your senses rushed back to you all at once. you could hear that constant beeping again but this time a little louder. Looking towards your right, you noticed the heart monitor displaying your heart rate. You stared at it for a little bit and watched the line move at a rhythmic pace before you realized that your left hand felt a bit heavier that usual.

Your fingers twitched, slowly flexing, trying to grasp at what was resting in your hand. You turn your head slightly, glancing down at your hand, only to notice another hand placed over yours.

Eyes widening at the slight, you move them from the hand, up the arm and towards the person it belonged to. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you.

In the chair next to you, Hotch was leaned back into the chair. His left arm was slung over his abdomen and his right arm was stretched out resting on the side of your hospital bed, hand intwined with yours.

He look so peaceful in his sleep, which was a stark contrast to his usual stoic expression, despite the slight furrow in his brows. How he managed to look so comfortable in that hard plastic chair was beyond you, but you were sure that the exhaustion of the events the night before finally caught up to him.

You watched him for a while, your heart strings pulling at the thought of him so worried about you that he actually slept in that uncomfortable chair all night when he had a nice warm bed back at the hotel you guys were staying at.

The sounds of someone clearing their throat pulled you from your thoughts, as you glance towards the doorway where the sound came from. Rossi stood there leaning against the door frame, a knowing smile gracing his features.

Feeling the heat rise to your face, your eyes dart away from Rossi and down at the blankets the covered you. David knew of the feelings you harbored towards the man to your left, having caught you staring at him a little longer that usual a couple of times. He soon got the truth out of you after a night of drinking, to which you spilled your heart out to the older man in hopes of getting advice from someone that knew Hotch inside and out.

"How you feeling kiddo?"

Hearing his question spoken softly, you glance back up at him and clear your throat feeling it dry from not speaking for hours on end.

"Alright. Just a little sore I guess," you rasp out quietly.

He raises his eyebrow, "A little? Kid you got shot with a rifle, I don't blame you if you said you it hurts like hell, which I'm pretty sure it does."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," you chuckle softly at his words before glancing back down.

You can't help but let your eyes travel back to where your hand was intwined with Hotch's, letting out a little sigh. Rossi's eyes follow yours, then travel up to where his friend slept soundly.

"You know," he starts with a small smile, "he was really worried about you kid. He's been with you since the ambulance pulled up. He refused to leave your side and even rode with you the whole way over here. We even had a hard time trying to get him to go shower or even change. He insisted that he had to be here when you woke up."

You shift your focus up to Hotch's face, taking in the words Rossi was saying, heart melting at the thought. Your mind raced at the implications of what this all meant but you quickly shut them down, not wanting to get your hopes up.

"I'm sure he would've been the same if it were any one of us," you replied, shoulders slumping a bit at the thought.

David rolled his eyes at your words, "You know what I mean Y/N. Sure he would've been worried if it happened to any of us, but I doubt he would be sleeping if those god awful chairs all night if it wasn't for you."

At that you could feel the hand in yours start to twitch, Hotch moving slightly as he began to wake up. Your breath caught in your throat as his eyes started to flutter open. The first thing Aaron saw as he fully woke up was Rossi standing in the doorway staring right at him.

"Dave? What are you doing here?"

Rossi chuckles softly, shaking his head as he pushes himself away from the door frame to stand up straight.

"Oh nothing, figured I should probably go get a bite to eat and maybe a cup of coffee. It seems like you guys have a lot to talk about," he finishes, nudging his head in your direction.

The look of confusion quickly washes away from Hotch's face as his head snaps in your direction. He takes in the sight of you wide awake, a slight flush on your cheeks that he assumes is because of your injury. He could feel your hand flutter underneath his as he glances down at it. The sight of your hand wrapped with his causes his heart to skip a beat, the moment it resumes he swears he can hear it pounding in his ears.

Rossi clears his throat once more gaining the attention of the two, "Well I better be off, let me know if either of you want something. I hope you feel better kiddo."

You let out a small 'thank you' and he smiles at you then sends Aaron a knowing glance when you aren't looking before turning and making his way out. You both sat there in silence, not knowing what to say to each other.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch finally asks, breaking the silence between you.

"Honestly, I've been better," you let out a little chuckle, trying to ease the tension, before turning solum again remembering your current state.

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I should've know better, if only I-"

Hotch cuts you off with a reassuring squeeze to your hand.

"Don't," he says firmly, "Don't you ever blame yourself for something that is out of your control. You did all you could and your observations helped us catch the unsub and the last victim was found alive."

"I know, but I just feel bad cause you had to sleep on that," you say, gesturing towards the chair he was sitting on.

He lips quirk up ever so slightly, "Don't worry about it, I should be used to it now because of all the late nights I spend at the office. Besides, I wanted to. I wouldn't do this for just anyone," he says, starting to gain the courage to tell you what is on his mind.

"Hotch-" you start, only to be cut off by him.

"Wait, just let me say this," he holds his hand up. you nod encouraging him to continue.

"Y/N, you are the bravest person I know, not to mention the most caring and thoughtful. You always tend to put others first, but are still able to stand up for yourself and voice your needs. I admire so much about you that I could possibly go on forever. What made me fall for you is beyond me, but I know what I'm feeling is real. I kept telling myself that I shouldn't love you, that I shouldn't cross that boundry, but its not as simple as it sounds. No matter how hard I tried, you made me fall harder and faster without doing much," he sighed, "Even if you don't feel the same, i just needed to tell you."

At the end of his speech your eyes were shining with unshed tears. Never have you heard anything as sweet and poetic as that. You could feel every one of his words in your soul as if he was speaking right to it. He had put his heart on his sleeve for you and you thought it was only fair you did the same.

"Aaron, when I first met you I thought you were just a cold, stoic, blunt man,"

Hotch could've sworn he felt his heart ache at the words leaving your mouth, but that soon changed as you continued.

"But, then I met you and learn a lot about you. You actually had a similar sense of humor as me and know how to dish out a joke as well as take one. Your wit is one of the things that surprised me the most about you. Not to mention that you protect the ones you care about with your life. You come off as nonchalant when in fact you care so much about each and every one of us on this team. And despite what you think, you're the best dad Jack could ever ask for. You really are his hero and I don't blame him. You say you admire me but, oh boy, you have no idea how much about you I cherish and appreciate."

"At first I thought it was nothing more than just a silly little crush, but it turned into so much more than that. I couldn't stop thinking about you no matter how hard I tried, it happened without me even realizing it. You are the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning and the last thought I have before I drift off to sleep at night, its like you're all that's in my mind. My heart has yearned for you longer than I knew it myself and now that I know that its not just me, I'm willing to cross that line as long as you're there with me," you finished giving his hand a loving squeeze.

Aaron stared at you with loving eyes and you could've sworn your heart stopped at the sight. You looked at him shyly with the newfound revelation of your feelings towards each other being mutual. You could feel yourself slowly leaning towards him and him doing just the same.

As the distance between you grew shorter and shorter, you both were stealing glances at each others' lips. Just as you were about to close the distance, a sharp pain shot right through your shoulder causing you to wince and pull back.

Hotch looked at you with worry helping you lean back into the hospital bed. His eyes scanned your face for any traces of discomfort as you got situated back into place. Your eyes met as if he was ask you a silent question, you nodded letting him know you were fine as he sighed in relief.

Chuckling a bit a the situation, he shook his head slightly before leaning down and placing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

"Let's wait till you get out of here for that," he smirks, "Besides I need to treat you out to a nice dinner before we could have some dessert" he finished with a swift kiss to the knuckles of your hand that was still interlocked with his.

You couldn't help the heat that quickly rose to your face at his comment. Never, did you think Hotch could be that smooth. Rolling your eyes, you gently slap his arm causing him to laugh softly.

"You're so corny."

"Well you better get used to it cause you're stuck with me now," he replies with a smile.

You shake your head with a giggle, "Can I take that back?"

"Nope," he says, smile growing wider as a mischievous look glints in his eyes, "Besides you said I'm just your type."

The memory of what he was talking about quickly floods into your mind.

Your face flushes a deep shade of embarrassment and you quickly cover your face with your hands, "Oh my god!"

A/n: I really hope you guys liked it! It took me quite a bit to write but i really love the way it came out! I honestly think this is probably my favorite one I've written so far! Just to let y'all know i do have quite a bit planned out so be on the lookout for that and hopefully I'll be able to put out little thing here and there! Once again if y'all want to be added to the tag list the link is here ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ and just fill it out for whatever you want to be tagged for and if you don't know what I write for just checkout my masterlist or leave and ask and I will reply as soon as i can get to it!

Taglist: @uraveragegorewhore @drayshadow @wlfstxr @nikkitc0703 *The ones in red are the ones I couldn't tag so if you want to be added again or removed just fill out the form or comment on here!*

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch imagine #thomas gibson #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

[twola]

you mentioned wanting some smutty prompts; how about the opposite of Seven Deadly Sins?

what about Seven Heavenly Virtues with a high honor!Arthur and an F!reader getting into all kinds of NSFW shenanigans, except filled with turmoil and drama as i imagine a high honor Arthur wouldn't want to impose at first... 👀

Oh! I have thought about this in the past - this isn’t going to be anywhere near as ambitious as that, but here is a drabble post with the seven capital virtues.

Virtuous

High-honor Arthur Morgan x Younger F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

At least with you, he will try to be a good man. It doesn't come naturally, of course.

Chastity: the state or practice of refraining from extramarital, or especially from all, sexual intercourse.

You’re drunk. Rip-roaring drunk. Stumbling drunk. But on a night like tonight, you blend in. Tonight liquor is flowing and the mood is jovial: little Jack is back in his mother’s arms and for once in the past several months, everything seems like it’s going to be okay.

You aren’t as drunk as Karen, god, that’s a good thing, her drinking is getting a bit out of control.  But you’re drunk enough to be troublesome.

You’re drunk enough to sneak away and climb into Arthur Morgan’s bed. He’s important enough that he’s gotten his own room, and as Javier belts out another refrain in Spanish, you sneak away and creep upstairs in the old plantation house, into Arthur’s room. The oil lantern casts shadows in the room, over shelves of ammunition, knives, and a map stretched out on a table. 

You sway slightly, moving toward the bed. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this drunk before. 

What you do know is how you’ve been watching him for months, probably since you joined this gang, nursing an infatuation for Dutch’s top gun. You know he’s older - you’re not much past twenty yourself, but it is him you see when you shut your eyes and touch yourself on lonely nights.

Kicking off your shoes, you crawl into his bed, pulling the sheet over yourself. Somehow, the whiskey in your belly burns in a smoldering frustration - you want him, you want him, and damnit, you’re going to do something about it.

Arthur returns to his room much later in the night, smelling like cigars and whiskey.  He pauses, for a moment, seeing a huddled form in his bed, but quickly relaxes, taking his hat from his head and placing it on the shelf atop a box of rifle cartridges.

“What are you doin’ up here, little lady?” He asks in a patient tone, unwinding his gunbelt from his hips, spreading it over the map on the table.

“Waitin’ fer you, Mister Morgan.”

Arthur sits on the edge of the bed, “What could you possibly be waitin’ for me for?”

You push yourself to sit up on your elbows. “How come you don’t have a lady, Arthur?”

He snorts, smirking slightly and shaking his head while pulling one of his boots off, “None would have me, Miss.”

“I would.”

Arthur stops, turning around and looking at you.

“Little lady, you’ve had quite a bit to drink tonight. Talkin’ all sorts of silliness.” 

You shake your head, your hair falling out of its messy braid, you reach over toward his arm, placing your small hand upon it, “I- I know I’m young, Arthur, but I could make y’so happy- ‘nd -”

A hiccup interrupts your confession. Arthur’s confidence is not inspired, as he turns back toward his other boot, sliding it off as it tumbles to the floor.

“ -’ nd, - and I know I could keep y’satisfied.” You punctuate the last word by running your hand from his forearm up his bicep to his shoulder, gently rubbing at it.

The liquor in your system has removed any sense of propriety from your mind. Every tawdry fantasy of Arthur Morgan you’ve had in the past months runs through your head, and now here you are, in his bed, practically propositioning him.

“Darlin’, this ain’t a good idea.”

You pull your hand back like you’ve touched a hot stove. “D’ya… d’ya not want me?”

He turns again, moving one of his legs onto the bed, and faces you fully as he takes a deep breath. “Sweetheart - I…that’s not…”

“I can go, I’m sorry, I’ll not bother-” You stumble over your words, trying to crawl out of bed.

His large hand on your thigh stops your forward motion. It also stops all coherent thought in your head.

“I ain’t gonna take advantage of you with you near fallin’ over drunk, little lady. But ‘course, course I want you - I don’t know why a pretty young thing like you would want an old man like me for.”

“Arthur-” You whine, and he blinks as seemingly all of his blood rushes to his groin at the needy sound of your voice.

“Y’need to get some sleep, then we can talk about this.”

“In the morning?” You ask, and he gently takes both of your shoulders and guides you down to lie in his bed.

“We can talk about it in the mornin’. After you’ve slept this off, alrigh’?” 

“Promise?”

“Yes, darlin’. I promise.”

You take that to be enough and settle down in his bed to sleep. Arthur sighs, watching as you quickly drift off, and stands up, pulling an old chair next to the bed and sitting down in it. He runs his hand down his beard and stares at the cracked and stained ceiling of the room.

Christ, the girl in his bed was close to fifteen years younger than him. He shouldn’t be entertaining this at all, for her sake. Dirty old man…

But still, he did have a soft spot for the smiles you give him. The sway of your narrow hips as you walk in camp, the shine of your long hair, the freckles that have developed on your face, and decolletage under the Lemoyne sun…

And here you were, in his bed, pleading with him to sleep together.

Arthur crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair, knowing that for your sake, he had to be a better man.

Temperance: the quality of moderation or self-restraint.

The sunlight on your eyelids makes you scrounge your nose, and your eyes slowly flutter open. Your head pounds, but you blink yourself into self-awareness, realizing everything you said and did last night was not, indeed, a dream.

Arthur is sleeping in the chair next to the bed and nods awake when he hears you moving.

“How’re you feeling, little lady? Seems like you had quite a bit to drink last night.”

You rub your forehead, avoiding eye contact with him, a vibrant blush settling on your cheeks as you sit up. 

“I c’n go get you some coffee.” Arthur stands up, moving toward the bed to put his boots on. At that moment, you decide to go for broke, reaching out to grab his arm.

“Mm?” Arthur hums, turning toward you. Your eyes flit from his, down to his lips, and you unconsciously lick your own. With the newfound courage of a woman with nothing to lose, you surge forward and press your lips against his. He is surprised and doesn’t respond for a moment, but after recollecting his wits, he turns fully toward you and wraps one of his arms around you.

You pull back, your eyes still looking downward. “I think we agreed that we was gonna talk.”

“We did,” Arthur says, but he leans in to press his lips against yours, his tongue brushing along the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. You sigh, leaning into him and allowing him so. His lips are chapped, but still soft, as his large arm winds around you.

It’s several moments like this, mouths moving against each other, until you maneuver yourself nearly into his lap, clutching at him desperately.

You pant into his mouth, reaching toward the button on his trousers. His hand catches yours, however, and a groan rumbles from deep in his chest.

“Arthur -” You whine, you feel your bloomers wet against your skin, and you’re sure that he’s hard in his trousers. 

“C’mon now, sweetheart.” He grits out, pressing you away from him in the bed.

You pout, “You said we would talk about this in the morning.”

“I reckon we better start talkin’ then. Don’t think we were doin’ much talkin’ there.” 

Patience: the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset.

Arthur was a busy man. As the lead enforcer of the gang, he was one of the men who brought in the most money - he could be very convincing at the end of a shotgun.

You knew Arthur did what he had to do: it kept you fed, clothed, cared for. 

You were also annoyed that you’d barely seen him for a week: frankly, since that morning after Jack’s return, he’s been in and out of camp at Dutch’s beck and call. Only around to give you sweet kisses behind crumbling columns or trees draped with Spanish moss. 

When you do get the chance, you clutch at him as if you could make him stay, pressing your tongue into his mouth, trying to pull him downward. It is really somewhat laughable, as he could toss you over his shoulder one-handed should he choose.

But he doesn’t choose.

He does pull you away after several moments, usually after the soft moan has escaped your mouth and you’ve pressed yourself against him.

“Patience, little lady. Ain’t no one ever tell you the best things come to those who wait?”

You pout back at him, deciding not to tell him how you’ve snuck into his room and touched yourself in his bed at night.

Diligence: having or showing care and conscientiousness in one's work or duties.

The afternoon heat hung low, sweat breaking out on the back of your neck as you rushed toward the back of the old plantation house, hiking up your skirts as you bound down the stairs of the back porch while no one is around. Bolting toward the old dockhouse, you grin as you see Arthur’s horse grazing in the fields at the back of the property.

He’s standing there, whisps of smoke drifting upward from the cigarette hanging from his lips. Leaning against a cypress tree eyes out on the horizon over the waters of the Lanaheechee.

He hears you coming, why wouldn’t he, you’re bowling through like a bull in a china shop. Arthur turns right as you come up to him, nearly launching yourself at him in delight.

“Whoa there, gonna run straight into the water now.” Arthur smiles, his hands on your shoulders.

You press forward into his embrace. “I knew you’d catch me.”

He snorts lightly, his arms moving to wrap around your small waist.

“Y’ready to get away for a bit?”

You look up at him, a head and a half taller than you, beaming, “Really?”

“Reckon I’ve done enough jobs to earn an afternoon off. C’mon, let's get out of here.”

He winds his arm around your shoulder and starts walking the two of you toward his horse. 

“Where we goin’?” You ask as you reach the mare, and Arthur swings you up to sit on the horse’s rump. He taps your leg lightly.

“You’ll see, little lady.”

Charity: aid given to those in need

The picnic in the meadow outside Bolger Glade did not last long. A few canned peaches were consumed before you crawled into Arthur’s lap and drew him into a kiss.

This time, finally, he does not push you away as you press against him. Indeed, he does the exact opposite. He rolls you beneath him, flat out on the blanket, and moves his lips from yours down your neck, suckling gently at the skin there, before his hand ducks downward to gather your skirts up, fingers trailing up your legs underneath the cotton.

“Y’want this?” He pants in your ear as his rough fingers press against your bloomers, and all you can do is whine needily in acquiescence. 

He pulls your bloomers down, down your thighs, down past your knees, and tosses them to the side before sliding his hand up your skirts again. You cling to his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as a high moan as he touches your skin. 

Arthur rubs in gentle circles against your folds, and your breath loudly hitches as one of his fingers pauses near your opening for but a moment before sliding inside. 

Hopefully, you’re far enough from the road not to bring attention to the two of you, because you’re having an increasingly hard time keeping quiet, thrusting your face against his shoulder to muffle your sounds, especially when he slides another finger into your wet warmth.

It's only a few moments more before you keen, mewling into the linen of his shirt as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear: good girl, that’s it.

“Let me… let me make you feel good,” You pant, reaching for the buckle of his pants as you regain some of your wherewithal.

He gently swats your hand away.

“Hush, I ain’t done with you yet.”

You want to scream aloud when his head disappears under your skirts and you feel his tongue press against your cunt.

Humility:  a modest or low view of one's own importance; humbleness.

You moan into his neck as you roll your hips in his lap, his hands spread wide over the globes of your rear and he pants in return, grinding you against the hardness in his pants.

“Fuck,”  he swears, and lays you down on the blanket, looming over you, hands reaching to undo the buttons of his trousers. “Y’ready?”

“Y-yes.” You shiver, opening your legs for him and starting to pull your skirts up, uncovering inch by inch of your inner thighs up to the thatch of dark hair shrouding your cunt.

Your breath hitches as he fully opens his pants, about to pull his length from them.

Arthur stops, looking at you, studying your eyes, your face, before frowning. “You’ve never done this before.”

He leans back up onto his knees, shaking his head. You rocket up in concern, afraid he’s going to leave, god, that would break your damn heart.

“Tell me the truth.” He asks, his tone firm.

You shake your head and Arthur sighs, staring down at his hands in his lap, the swollen tenting of his half-opened trousers, his cock still steel hard.

“I - I ain’t worthy of this honor, darlin’. Y- you should have a far better person than me bein’ your first.” Arthur says, one hand moving to redo the buttons of his pants.

“No,” You cry out forcefully, grabbing his hand, “I want it to be you, Arthur.”

“Little lady-”

You interrupt, grasping his hand in your own and interlacing your fingers. “You’re kind, and you’re wonderful, and I know you ain’t gonna hurt me.”

You lay back on the blanket, your hair fanning out, and still holding his hand, you pull him toward you. Arthur closes his eyes, visibly struggling with himself.

“I-”

He trails off, and after several moments, his eyes flutter open again. You’re spread out beneath him, his knees framed by your open legs, your face flushed, your cunt wet and needy and ready for him.

“Arthur. I want it to be you.” You say, with more force behind your voice.

He breaks.

“Alright, sweetheart… Alright.”

Kindness: the quality of being friendly, generous, and considerate.

Arthur pulls his cock from his pants, stroking himself several times, and as you watch him, your hand moves down between your legs, touching your glistening folds as he grunts in approval. After several moments, he looks back at you, a serious heaviness in his eyes.

“You tell me if it hurts - you hear that?” “Yes,” you whine, gasping as he moves over you, placing his elbows on either side of your head, capturing your lips as he presses his length against your core, parting your folds, gently jutting his hips back and forth, covering himself with your slick. 

The head of his cock hits that bundle of nerves and you moan loudly into his mouth, and he jolts against you, pressing his length even harder against the seam of your body.

He curses against your lips, pressing himself up with one arm, balancing on his other forearm, as he reaches down between you to grasp the base of his cock. He slowly pulls it down, down the seam of you until the head catches at your weeping opening. He presses in slightly, enough so that he can move his hand, and immediately moves up to cradle your cheek. His thumb traces your jawline for a moment, his blue eyes flutter as he begins to press forward.

Your breath escapes you as you throw your arms around his neck, his flesh splitting you open - it does hurt, but god, if he were to stop, your heart might hurt even more. He’s about halfway in when he starts peppering kisses over your brow, his thumb drawing gentle circles over your cheek.

“Y’okay?” He asks, his voice not more than a whisper.

“Yes, please… please.” You plead, unable to articulate any further.

Arthur groans, pressing completely inside you, his girthy cock fully seated, and he remains still as your fingers dig into his shoulders, his work shirt saving his skin from your nails.

After a few moments, you unclench your hands, one moving up his neck to grasp the ends of his short hair. “Arthur,” you moan, in a high, flighty voice that gives him permission to move.

He slowly, gently, retracts his hips from yours, and then presses back forward, intently watching your face for any twinge of pain. When he sees none, he repeats the process a little faster. And again, a little faster.

You gasp and whine in tune with his thrusts, and finally, he lets out a groaning whimper after he’s sure you’re enjoying it. “God, you’re so tight, squeezin’ me like this-”

You mewl as he lowers himself completely over you, your ankles crossing over his lower back. The sounds coming from your mouth edge on obscene, as Arthur thrusts into your accepting body over and over again.

“That’s it, that’s it, c’mon, darlin’, let go.” He grunts into your ear, nuzzling against the side of your head.

You cry out, your back arching up as you convulse around him, crying his name in absolute adoration.

Arthur presses his forehead against yours, gritting his teeth and screwing his eyes shut as he thrusts a handful of more times before pulling himself from you, reaching down and stroking his cock as he finishes, his spend coating his fingers and dripping to the blanket beneath you.

He pants, leaning on his side as he lowers his hip to lay beside you, your legs falling open. He kisses your forehead, one of his large hands pulling your skirts down over your knees and thighs as you catch your own breath.

“Good for ya?” He rumbles, his hand finding purchase on your soft belly.

You open your eyes, smiling up at him. The sunlight pours through the tree you rest under on the warm afternoon.

“You’re so good for me, Arthur.”

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fandom #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 #twolafic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #red dead smut #tumblr prompt #voluptatem

[cmncisspnandmore]

One Night Stand; Part 3

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Warnings: OOC Simon (kinda?), fluff, alcohol, pregancy, talks of abortion, vomiting,

Summary: Its been 3 months since your night in the sheets with Simon and your life just got a whole lot more complicated.

A/N: I know, I know. okay. I get it. Not everyone like the pregnancy trope, so if you dont im sorry. If i lose some readers for this then im sad to see you go but i hope to see you in future writings i do for the COD men. This is not going to be like other pregnancy tropes that get all mushy and fluffy and light after. This story will be filled with dark themes coming in later chapters that i hope will keep people interseted. We all know Simon Riley's life cant be easy, so if you're still here after this part. Buckle up. Its a wild ride.

Word Count: 5,015

New to the Series? Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2

The bar looked exactly the same as it did three months ago. The music wasn't as loud, but that was probably because it was still early. Many people were still at work at 5pm on a Thursday.

Not you, you had found a job working online, writing articles for business pages. It wasn't the most exciting thing in the world but it paid well, and it occupied most of your time. An added bonus of not leaving for work was you never had to worry about coming home from the office to find someone on your couch. You shake your head trying to clear the thoughts. You weren't even 100% sure why you were here, the chances that Soap even knew Simon were slim. But he had said he knew almost everyone that came to the bar. 

So there was a chance.

One you couldn't pass up, you had to at least try.

Wrapping your coat around you tighter, you walk into the bar. The dim lights reflect off the shiny tables. A few people sit at them, watching a replay of a game on tv. You glance around behind the bar, looking for the familiar mohawk. 

It pops up from behind the bar towards the end, Soap holds a bin of limes in his arms. He sets the bin down on the shiny black countertop, pulling a small cutting board out from the top of the bin and a knife. He slices a lime in half as you slide into the seat in front of him. His blue eyes meet yours and a smile breaks out on his face. 

“Lass! Good to see ya, you disappeared on me the last time ye were here!” He smiles, turning the lime and cutting it again. 

“Sorry about that, I needed to clear my head, I hope I didn't upset you,” you smile back, placing your hands on the bar.

“Nay, what can I get for ye? Vodka Soda?” he asks, setting the knife down as he turns towards the shelves of alcohol behind him.

“Uh, actually, can I just have water instead?” You bite your bottom lip and Soap nods, grabbing a glass and filling it. He slides the glass of water in front of you, and you stare down into it. 

“Everything okay?” he asks, looking at you with one raised eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah, I'm fine. Early day tomorrow ya know? Don't want to be hung over is all.”

“Aye i get that, so what brings you here?” Soap leans his forearms against the bar, “Miss me?” He smiles.

You can't help but roll your eyes, “Oh totally,” you laugh.

“I knew it, not many women can resist the MacTavish charm,” Soap grins, he stands back up and picks up the knife. He cuts each lime into wedges before putting them in the bin, you reach over grabbing one from the cutting board and squeeze it into your water. 

“Aye! Paw off,” Soap smiles, shaking the knife at you. A smile of your own breaks out on your lips as you watch him. 

“You have plenty to spare, plus someone around here has to keep you busy.”

“I assure you Lass, the folk around here keep me plenty busy,” Soap points over your shoulder where Price and Gaz are walking in. They’re deep in a conversation as they make their way over to where you are sitting in front of Soap. 

Kyle is the first to notice you, and he pauses looking at you over. “Y/n, it's good to see you again, not going to lie. I was kinda sad you left without a goodbye last time,” Gaz takes the seat on the left.

“Sorry about that, I promise to say bye this time. I don’t want to bruise your ego,” You say over the rim of your glass. 

“Good, I don't think I can hear him wallow about it anymore,” Price says as he sits in the stool on your right. “So what do you think of London? Everything you could’ve imagined?”

“It’s alright… It rains a lot more than I'm used to, but it's not too bad. Definitely different from the small town I'm from,” you look over at him. He gives you a small smile, and turns towards Soap. 

“Soap, we ship out tomorrow morning, be ready at 0600 hours,” Price grunts as Soap puts the last lime into the bin. 

“Yes sir,” Soap turns towards the bottles of liquor on the shelf and grabs a bottle of bourbon. He sets it down on the counter with a soft thud, he then grabs two glasses for them, pouring each man two fingers. He slides the glasses across the bar to them, the acidic smell of the bourbon makes your stomach turn. Saliva pools in your mouth as you desperately try to swallow. 

“Oh uh, Soap, I wanted to ask if you knew someone actually,” You take a sip of water, your eyes following him as he moves behind the bar. Soaps bright blue eyes look over at you, his brows furrowed together. 

“I might,” he smiles. A loud noise from behind you startles you, and a drunken man tumbles into the back of your stool. His drink spilling down your back as he leans against the back of the barstool, the smell of the alcohol hits your nose. 

“Oops,��� the drunken man mumbles, his breath wafting over your face.

Your stomach rolls, as Price and Gaz help the man up. Gaz and Price half drag him away from you as he continues to mumble about his drink. Gaz says something and pats him on the chest as they pull him to the door. You stand from the chair, the fabric of your coat and shirt now sticking to you. Nausea rolls through you as you try to breathe through your mouth. 

“You alright lass? You look a little green,” Soap is now standing in front of you, a clean bar towel in his hands. He gently pats the towel against your soaked shirt and coat trying to soak up some of the liquid that's seeping into your skin. 

You can't answer, if you open your mouth you’re sure you’ll throw up so you push past Soap and hurry towards the bathroom. Soap follows behind you, pausing at the door to the women's room. You shove open one of the stall doors and drop to your knees. The cold tiles bite through the fabric of your jeans, as the contents of your stomach is emptied into the porcelain bowl. It takes you several minutes to stop dry heaving, your stomach clenching painfully with each contraction of your abs. When the feeling settles you stand, before rinsing your mouth out with some water from the tap. You grab a paper towel, wiping your hands and mouth.

“You alright in there?” Soap calls through the door, his voice laced with concern. 

“Yeah..” you call back, tossing the paper towel into the bin and pulling open the door, “Sorry about that.” You shove your hands into your pockets as you come face to face with Soap. His eyebrows knit together in worry as he looks over you, one hand hovers in the air as if hes going back and forth on if he should touch you or not.

“You su-” he pauses looking over your shoulder, his eyes widened slightly.

“MacTavish, the bar can't run itself…” A familiar voice rumbles, the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. Memories of your night 3 months ago rushes back, that same voice that murmured praise to you as he pounded into you. 

You whip around, at the end of the hall stands Simon, his black hoodie pulled up over his head, his mouth and nose covered by a skull print face mask. His brown eyes widen slightly as he sees you. “Y/n…” he whispers. 

“You two know each other?” Soap muses from behind me, his hands coming to rest on my shoulder as he walks by. An uncomfortable silence settles over the hallway and Soap slips by, muttering “I’ll leave you two alone…” 

Simon takes a few steps towards you, and it seems like he takes up the whole hallway. You look up as he towers over you, his face is unreadable, he lifts a hand, brushing his fingertips across your cheek. It sends electricity skittering across your skin, your breath catches in your throat.

Over the past 3 months you have tried to forget about the man whose brown eyes haunted your dreams. Whose touch caused your mind to go blank. Like someone wiping a harddrive. But there was no forgetting, not anymore. He was here in front of you, sure, you had come to ask Soap if he knew him. But you hadn't expected to run into him tonight. You still had no idea what you were going to say to him. How do you justify just leaving his house at 3am?

“You could've said goodbye, you know… You didn't have to sneak out and call an Uber at 3am..” Simon whispers, and guilt slams into you. He knew you left. He wasn't asleep like you thought…

“I-I..” you stumble over your words, unsure what to say. There wasn't anything you could say really. You knew you should’ve just waited, dealt with the awkward small talk. Maybe even exchange numbers you would never plan on using. But nope.

Instead you fled. Just like you fled after your sister's funeral.

At least you were consistent. 

“I’m not upset, I understand.” Simon adds after a moment, his hands shoved deep in his pockets of his hoodie. 

“Simon.. I.. I’m sorry.. I’ve been going through a lot. And i didnt .. I couldn't face you after that. Not, not that you did anything wrong. Because you didn't! I mean you were great. I just,” You run a hand through your hair. “God, this is not how I wanted this to go.” 

“Breathe. Love, breathe.” Simons hands cup your face and you freeze. “It’s okay, like I said I'm not upset with you,” he lets his hands drop, and you nod. 

“I didn't know you knew Soap,” He muses, leaning against the wall. You shuffle your feet, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah… I met him the same night I met you… You know him too, yeah?” 

“Soap, Gaz, Price and I all serve together,” Simon rubs the back of his neck with his hand, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“Oh! I don't know how I didn't pick up that you were military,” You bite your lip looking down at his black boots. 

“We didn't exactly get to know each other very much that night..” Simon says, and a small blush creeps up your cheeks at the mention of your night together. “So what brings you here tonight?” Simon asks.

The familiar feeling of nausea swirls in your stomach again, you clench your fists, nails biting into your palm. Something you have come to do a lot over the past few months. “I came here to ask about you, actually. I needed to talk to you..” You whisper, and Simon's brows furrow.

“Well you found me.. What did you need to talk about?” He asks, as you chew your bottom lip. Anxiety creeps into your chest, wrapping itself around your lungs like an icy hand. The air rushes from your lungs, your eyes burning with tears.

 How the hell could you turn this man's life upside down?

“Hey, hey,” Simon whispers, his large hands clasp your shoulders steadying you. The world feels a million miles away, like you were floating out in space untethered. Everything sounds muffled, and the lights are suddenly too bright in the hallway. You raise your shaky hands, running them through your hair. A large hand guides you down the hall a little until the bitter cold air of winter in London hits you. You gasp, your lungs filling with the cold air, goosebumps break out along your heated skin. 

The world slowly comes back into focus, soft murmuring in your ear as large arms wrap around your middle holding you against a solid chest. “Breathe, you’re alright, you’re okay… Just breathe, Love.” Simon murmurs into your ear. Tears fall from your eyes, trails of hot tears stream down your cold cheeks. 

“I’m sorry I left that night…” you gasp in between sobs, “and i am so sorry im going to say this…” You whisper the last part. At first you aren't sure Simon heard you but after a moment he turns you around. His arms are still around you as he looks down at you, your teeth starting to chatter from emotion and the wind.

“Whatever you have to say can't be that bad, love. Did you find out you had some like STI or something? Do I need to get tested?” He asks, his brown eyes searching your tear stained face. His hands moving up and down your body in an attempt to warm you up and comfort you at the same time.

You shake your head, if only an STI was the least of your problems. “N-no, i didn't give you anything like that…” you choke out.

Simon watches you as you stand face to face with him in the same alley you met him in 3 months ago. Although this time you’re different, instead of the woman who was caught in her own head. Who was running from demons he couldn't see, trying her best to show the world it couldn't break her. Instead standing in front of him was a woman who was scared, who looked so lost in the world, like she was barely hanging on. He studies you, even as you stand in front of him crying, your entire body shaking. You were still beautiful, and he would be lying if he said he didn't think about you. 

You had haunted him every moment since he heard you leave the apartment. When he heard the door click shut it took everything in him not to follow you out. But he didn’t, he laid there staring up at the ceiling until almost 5, before he got up and started making himself some tea. It was then he noticed the note you left your swirling handwriting on the scarp paper wishing him well. He was saddened to see you hadn’t left a way to contact you, but part of him understood. He had offered you a chance to get out of your head for a while. He hadn’t asked you on a date. He DIDN'T date. 

The onslaught of disappointment was tough for him to swallow. Simon was never upset when a woman he brought to bed left with no goodbye, and a hasty note. Simon preferred it that way, it was better if the one night stands didn’t stick around but for some reason Simon couldn’t stop thinking about you. About how your curves felt beneath his palms. The silky smooth expanse of your skin. The way your moans stirred something deep in him, or the way your eyes told him more than you ever would. 

Now as he looked down at you, standing in the darkened alley way. He knew whatever you wanted to say was about to bring his world crashing down. But instead of the overwhelming feeling to flee, that he normally had when confronting emotional issues like this. Simon wanted to hold you close and tell you that it was okay, that whatever it was you could face it and make it out the other side. During his years of doing interrogations and studying people he had learnt the signs of when someone was teetering on the edge. It was clear in your face and body language that you were one gentle gust of wind from toppling over. Crumbling into pieces he wasn’t sure anyone could put back together.

“What is it then Sweetheart? I’ll help you figure it out, whatever it is.” He whispers, pulling you closer to him, his body heat seeping into you, as the wind blows. You sniffle, your shaking hands coming up to swipe at the tears under your eyes. You take one last breath, eyes closed as you brace yourself.

“I’m pregnant.” 

It’s like the world stopped spinning.

Time was suddenly suspended, as you pried your eyes open to look at Simon. His brown eyes were guarded. His brows pulled together, as his hands stopped their motions for a fraction of a second. Your lungs burned from holding your breath, your throat tight. Every muscle in your body was tense, as you waited for him to say something. Do something. You needed some sort of reaction from him. Yelling, screaming, swearing, anything was better than the earth shattering silence that took place after you muttered the two words you hadn’t yet said out loud since you found out.

It wasn’t like you planned on getting pregnant by your one night stand. Hell. It was the LAST thing you wanted. You were always careful to get your birth control shot every 3 months. But with the chaos of the last few months, somewhere along the line you must’ve missed your last appointment. It wasn’t until you went into your appointment earlier today to get a shot that they had informed you they couldn’t administer it. That you were already pregnant.

“Okay.”

The word shocks you, and for a moment you aren’t sure you hear him right. You raise an eyebrow, as you look at Simon.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, okay. We’ll figure it out.” Simon states, his hands resuming their soothing motion up and down your sides.

“You’re not.. not going to freak out?” You whisper.

“There’s nothing to freak out about, this isn’t just going to go away. So we need to talk about our options, and we will. Just got standing in the back alley of a pub.”

“Okay…” you whisper, as Simon’s hands guide you towards the emergency exit door that he brought you through. The inside of the bar is louder than before, more people have shown up. Soap, Gaz and Price are all talking at the end of the bar. Your glass of water is filled and sitting on a napkin. They all look over when you two walk over.

“Ghost, Soap was just telling me that you and y/n know each other. Small world isn’t it?” Gaz smiles, his brown eyes looking between us. 

“We do,” Simon turns to Price, “I’m going to be bringing her home, I’ll see you at 0600 tomorrow, Captain.” 

There’s a look that passes between Price and Simon, but he just nods, then turns towards you. “I hope to see you again, dear, maybe next time we can all have a nice meal.” 

“Maybe,” you smile, after waving goodbye to Soap and Gaz, Simon leads you out to the street where the cars are parked. 

“Did you drive here?” He asks, looking down at you.

“No I took the bus,” you shove your hands into the pockets of your coat. It was still wet from where the guy spilt his drink, and you shivered.

“I’ll drive you home,” Simon takes your hand, pulling you towards his truck. He pulls open the passenger door and waits for you to get settled in the seat before shutting it. You run your hands together as Simon climbs into the driver's seat. He starts the truck, turning the heat on high.

“Where do you live?” He asks, as he turns on the headlights. 

“On Ashton street, the apartment complex there” from the corner of your eye you see Simon visibly stiffened, but he doesn’t say anything as he pulls away from the curb. The ride is mainly quiet, neither one of you having much to say. As you get closer to your apartment your anxiety starts to grow again. What if he tells you to get rid of it? 

Is that what you wanted? What if he decided he would rather give it up for adoption? Would he help you find a family? Maybe he would tell you he didn’t want anything to do with a baby? Could you deal with a baby? Bile burns in the back of your throat, and you try to swallow it back down. You weren’t about to throw up all over his nice truck. The grimy bathroom of a bar was one thing, but Simon’s leather interior of his car was not an option. Simon turns down a side street, there weren’t many streetlights on this stretch of the drive. You try to focus on the passing shadows but the rolling and twisting in you hug doesn’t let up.

“Can you pull over please?” You whisper, and Simon glances at you. Your hands bunched in the fabric of your coat, your eyes closed as you take deep breaths. Simon eases the car over, barely putting the car in park before you flung the door open and hop out. You move a few feet into the woods, your hands scraping against the tough bark of a tree, as you get sick. Bile burns your throat and nose, tears stream down your cheeks. 

Warm hands gather the hair from your face and hold it back. Holding your hair back with one hand the other rubs up and down your back. It takes several minutes of dry heaving for you to be able to stand up. A handkerchief is suddenly floating in front of you. You take it and wipe your mouth with it, shoving it into your pocket after.

“You okay?” Simon asks, as you take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m okay, sorry..” you mumble, as you turn back to the car and climb back in. Simon doesn’t say anything as he climbs in and continues to drive to your apartment. As he parks his car, he glances around, his eyes resting on the boarded up windows of the glass door.

“Everything okay?” You ask, noticing as he stares at the glass like he’s trying to get it to tell him what happened to it.

“Yeah. Sorry, let’s go inside,” he mumbles, climbing out and coming to your side. He pulls open your door and offers you a hand. You walk towards the building Simon’s entire body is tense as some residents barrel out of the door. They’re shouting and swearing as they stumble out, a lit cigarette dangling from their fingers. Simon pushes you behind him, as they pass, he watches as they head over to a parked car and continue arguing in front of it.

“They’ll stop arguing after a while. They do this often..” you mutter to Simon as you take his hand pulling him towards the door. He grunts and follows you up the three flights of stairs to your apartment. You hesitate, your hand on the knob as you take a deep breath. Entering was always the hardest part now, every time your hand touches the handle the images of your family break through the mental box you shoved them into. You let out the breath you were holding and pushed open the door. Flicking on the light switch next to the door. 

Your eyes falling on the empty couch against the far wall in the living room. Some of the tension leaves your shoulders as you stare at the threadbare fabric. You step further into the apartment allowing Simon to slip in behind you. He turns the locks on the door, and reaches down unlacing his boots. 

“I don't have much to offer.. Is water okay?” You ask as you shrug off your alcohol stained coat. The fabric is a sticky mess, the fabric ruined from the drink spilt on it at the bar. Tossing it onto the counter, you head over to the cabinet and take down two glasses. 

“Water is okay,”  Simon walks into your living room and takes a seat. He watches you fill the two glasses with water and you come and sit on the other side of the couch, handing him the glass. 

“When did you find out?” Simons asks, taking his face mask off and shoving it into his pocket and taking a sip of water. 

“This afternoon… I went in to get my birth control shot and they make you do a pregnancy test…” You pull your legs up to your chest, holding the glass of water in one hand. The other hand wraps around your shins keeping them pulled up to your chest.

“Did they tell you how far along you are?” He asks, “So we know what our options are, I mean.” 

“They said based on the blood work, 12 weeks. But I have to go in to get an ultrasound next week..” 

“Okay, so we don't have a lot of time to make a choice… have you thought about what you want to do?” Simon sets his glass down on the table next to the couch.

“I .. I don't know.. I was waiting to hear what you had to say before I made up my mind.” You mumble, your eyes trained on a spot of carpet that is fraying.

“If I'm being honest, I never wanted kids. They were never in my cards… I'm not saying I don't like them, kids are great, I just never pictured myself having any,,” he admits.

Your heart sinks.

Here we go, he's going to tell you to get rid of it, and tell you to delete his number, forget he exists and move on with your life. 

“But, with you, it feels right.. There's just something about you that I can't get out of my head and at the risk of sounding like a total barbarian. The thought of having you in my life until I die because of this baby fills me with excitement. I wanted to go after you when you snuck out of my apartment but I didn't want you to be uncomfortable. The night I spent with you was one of the best nights I've ever had. So if you would like to, I would love the chance to raise this baby with you. Even if it's as friends and nothing more. Because I know that you were put into my life for a reason, and I'm going to take any chance I can get to keep you around,” Simon finishes, his hand coming to rest on your ankle. 

You sit there for a few moments, mind reeling with everything he just said to you. He wanted to raise a baby with you? Just so he could get to know you? Did you really have that much of a profound effect on him? Would he still feel the same when he found out what had happened to you? Could you do this? I mean really do this?

Babies are huge commitments. They were for life; there was no backing out. But the way Simon was looking at you, like he would take on the world for you with barely knowing you. It made you feel like you could do it. As long as you didn't have to do it alone, well, at least not completely. You chew on your bottom lip for a few more minutes, the thoughts rolling around in your head as Simon's eyes trail around your apartment. 

“Okay…” you finally whisper and Simon's head whips towards you.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I-i don't think i can get rid of it anyway… The thought makes me feel sick,” you confess and the tension in Simon's shoulders all but disappears. 

“Alright, we can figure this out. No pressure for us to be together, we can just start by becoming friends, and seeing where things go okay?” He smiles, and its a real genuine smile. Your heart stutters in your chest, and you can't help your own smile that spreads across your lips. 

“If we’re being honest here,” you sigh, wringing your hands together in your lap,”I couldn't stop thinking about you either… I mean, even before all… yeah.. You know.”

Simon's hand comes over to rest on the side of your face, and he leans forward pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I'm glad to hear that I wasn't the only one with lingering thoughts,” he chuckles.

Simon drops his hand and looks around your place once more, a furrow deep in his brow. He opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it, before he notices the time on the clock hanging on your wall. It was almost 10 and he needed to check over his gear before he shipped out in the morning. 

“I hate to do this… but I have to go,” his lips pulled down into a thin straight line.

“Oh right.. You told Price you would see him in the morning…”

“Yeah… Look, i can't tell you much, but i don't know how long i’ll be gone…” he looks around, and grabs the notebook you write your ideas for articles down in and scribbles on a spare piece. “This is my number, i won't promise i’ll respond while i'm away, but if anything happens, call this number 3 times in a row and you’ll get through to someone who can get a message to me okay? But that is only for emergencies, otherwise just text me and i’ll do my best to get back to you, alright?” He tears the paper out, coming to stand in front of you. He presses the paper into your hand. It crumples slightly as you close your hand around it.

“Okay,” you murmur, looking up at him from your spot on the couch. His fingers crush along your cheek as he brushes a strand of your hair back from your face. 

“Be safe, keep the door locked… i’ll be back soon and we’ll go do something fun and get to know each other.” Simon smiles, as he takes a few steps backwards towards the door. 

“I’ll hold you to it,” you smile, “Be safe out there.”

The only response is the soft click of the door.

Next: Part 4

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