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hazelfoureyes · 2 months

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The Big Part

Alastor x Virgin FemReader smut

You were dead, it was time to divest yourself of your virginity. When you ask Alastor, he takes to the task immediately. Unfortunately, he seems to enjoy surprising you.

warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader smut, Alastor dislikes getting naked, virginity does not rock, possessive Alastor, head pats, reader is an adult she’s just a nervous idiot bad at words

Horny little deer cult: @frompeach , @chirimeimei , @poppingaround , @polytheatrix , @itsmskeisha , @stygianoir , @celestial-vomit , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @amurtan

minors dni, this isn’t educational in the slightest and is just straight smut

It made sense, at the time. You didn’t want a relationship and you didn’t want to meet a stranger you couldn’t trust, that left very few people to ask. Husk would say no, and probably stop serving you drinks. Angel would most likely agree, but you were a little intimidated by his experience. That left Alastor. While you hadn’t spent much time together, your interactions were always cordial. And plus, this was hell. Isn’t this kind of situation a sinners dream come true?

For most, maybe. But you didn’t know Alastor. Not yet, not really. Everything he did had some ulterior motive. Perhaps nothing he had ever done was simply selfless. If Alastor wasn’t gaining something, Alastor wasn’t interested.

You caught him in the hallway one evening after redemption-oriented activities, deciding to get the moment over with as quickly as possible.

“It’s a favor, little… odd. But you’re the only person I have to ask.” Your eyes darted around his face, down the hall, up the walls, anywhere really but his eyes.

“I’m all ears!” Alastor tapped the microphone to the ground with a satisfying ‘thud’.

Oh— you had rehearsed this but you hadn’t prepared to be staring at that large, toothy grin. It wasn’t unsettling, it was just distracting. Would he be smiling the entire time he… ya know.

“I am,” you steepled your hands, pointing them at him, “a virgin.” You paused, hoping maybe he’d just infer the rest and you could stop talking.

His face was motionless save his eyelids rising up.

“And I don’t want to be. Anymore.” Your lips pursed together. C’mon, Alastor. Figure it out.

Alastor nodded.

You dragged your fingers down your face, “Would you help me with that?”

His head cocked to the side like a golden retriever being handed a book on ancient Egypt. Very nice offer but what exactly do I do with it?

“Help how, precisely?” He finally spoke, tone unchanged from any normal topic of discussion. Alastor watched your face scrunch up, mouth moving around words you abandoned half way through. You weren’t saying anything, just making panicked sounds. “I find annunciation most helpful when wanting to be understood, dear.”

You wanted to somersault out the nearest window. “Alastor will you take my virginity?”

“Take it where?”

You groaned, he laughed, “Just kidding, my dear! All in good fun. So, to be clear, you would like your first sexual experience to be with me?” He pointed the microphone from you to him.

You nodded, “Yes, please.”

His smile seemed to strain. Staring down at you, he tried to understand what your motivation was for this. But as he looked into your big, concerningly innocent eyes, he realized there was none. You really, simply, want him to be the first.

Ooh, as he thought it, he felt his pulse quicken in his lap. The first. A spot no one else could take. For the rest of your afterlife, he would always be the one who was first in you. A delicious thought. He could work with that.

“Are you free now?” He leaned down to your level.

“Oh. I wasn’t-,”

“Expecting immediacy? Perfect, the element of surprise has never failed me before.” His hand wrapped around your waist and drew you in to his chest, there was a rush of cold air over your skin before you felt yourself falling back.

It was soft, the room was dark, save for a small floor lamp in the corner. Your room, you realized.

“I didn’t know you knew my room number.”

“It’s my job to know everything about the hotel.” He said, tossing your shoes behind him. Was this happening now? Right now?

“I can do it, it’s, it’s fine.” You sat up and began undoing your pants. Alastor just standing there, watching. Smiling. Fuck, was it going to be this awkward the entire time? Should you say something? Touch him? You were lifting the hem of your shirt when you realized he was still fully dressed. “Are you going to take off your clothes?”

“Why would I do that?” Head lolled to the side.

You stopped mid-way through unhooking your bra, “Alastor you do know I was asking you to fuck me, right?”

He nodded. Maybe this was a mistake.

After taking off your bra, and finally your panties, you crawled to the top of your bed and drew your knees to your chest. Your feet hid your sex from view. Heart racing, but it wasn’t excitement, as you had anticipated. It was nerves. Would it hurt? Would you make a stupid face? What if he didn’t like the sounds you made? What if you regretted it after?

Alastor got on the bed on his knees, undoing his belt buckle but not his pants. The way he looked at you, your heart skipped a beat. You suddenly remembered he was called the ‘cannibal deer’ as you saw something akin to hunger in his eyes.

“What experience do you have?” His voice was suddenly low, deeper than before. This wasn’t the pun loving radio man you saw prodding the staff.

“I dated. Before. Kissing, um, I don’t know the bases. Groping?” You grimaced, it sounded so formal.

“Have you ever,” he began to slink toward you on his hands and knees, red eyes glowing in the dim light of your room, “been entered?”

Your cheeks burned, your head suddenly swayed as if it was half full of water and someone tipped you over. “Just myself, my,” you lifted your hand.

“Show me.”

All the air left the room, sucked out of your lungs and into his grin.

Uncrossing your feet, you tried to open your thighs without seperating your knees. It didn’t work, but you still managed to get a hand between your legs and to your entrance. You could have cried, you were soaking wet to an embarrassing degree. Your eyes return to Alastor, his gaze never leaving you. Even as you slipped a finger, then two, into yourself. You thought for sure he would want to watch your hands playing with your wet pussy but no, his eyes stayed on your face. Somehow, that was worse.

A shaky sigh escaped, your eyes closing as you tried to focus on relaxing around your digits.

Your head smacked against the headboard when you felt a third finger enter. Not yours. Your eyes flew back open to see him now directly in front of you.

“Two won’t do, dear.” He spun his finger around, pulling slightly at the thin skin of your entrance. “Unless you’d prefer this to hurt?”

You shook your head no, still stinging from the impact you had made. “May I?” His hand took your wrist and removing your fingers. Swiping your wetness from your ass to your clit, he coated his claw-like digits and pushed three back in. They were longer than yours, sharper. You could feel he moved gently, in and out. Your head was heavy, breath short and fast.

He laughed, bringing your consciousness fully back into the room, “Already wanting to change your mind?”

You shook your head side to side, still too embarrassed to speak, and took a grounding breath to help your body accept his fingers. He took his time, sliding in and out of you. His fingers picking up the slick and letting it lubricate your lips. It was so slow, the only pleasure for you was knowing it wasn’t your hand doing it.

But then his stretching of your hole stopped, and he grabbed both of your knees from underneath and pulled you down toward him. Now on your back, legs up and in his hands, you heard his belt slide through the loopholes, his zipper drop. You wanted to look, but you also absolutely did not want to look.

Your knees came together when you felt something hot and round at your entrance. “Ah-ah,” He opened them immediately. He reached for one of your hands, and brought it down to his cock. It was so hard under your fingers, but gave a little when you squeezed. It made him hiss.

“You tell me when to stop, little doe.” He pressed into your opening, pulled back. Pressed in, just barely making it past your lips, pulled back. He kept this pressing and pulling, head making slightly more leeway every time. Your fingers were holding right behind the tip.

“How about this, dear. I’ll just get the head in for now. Manageable!”

“Just— just get the big part in first?” You asked, the pressure at your entrance building with every shallow thrust.

He laughed, nodding as he held both of your knees further apart. When he attempted to get past the curve of his cock’s head, your hands flew down to press against his thigh, pushing back with the intrusion. Alastor stilled, sighed, and pressed his head fully in with a determined thrust. Instinctively, your feet came to his chest and tried to push away from him. It felt like you were being torn down the middle, your body forced apart at your most sensitive junction. He held you still now by the ankles, legs splayed in the air.

It burned where your walls were pushed aside. Stinging where the skin tore slightly just beneath your hole, unable to stretch.

“Breath, sweetheart.” He set your ankles down. “Does it hurt?”

You nodded.

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” he settled on his legs, looking down at where he was connected to you. Your pink little pussy looking positively overwhelmed by his cock. No one has ever been here before, and he could feel it. Your walls were pressing so hard against him his shaft was slightly curved from the force pushing his head out. You still had so much to take, there was so much more of you for him to explore. You tried to calm your breathing but your heart was racking against your sternum.

Hand reaching down again, you let your fingers count little paces from his core to yours. You knew the hardest part was over, but that didn’t bring much comfort as you felt how far you still had to go.

Alastor let his eyes wander away from your not-so-virgin cunt to your face. Your expression was twisted, not pained but clearly uncomfortable.

“How does it feel?” He asked, gesturing to your lap with a nod of his head.

“Full, so full.”

His cackle disheartened you, “Darling I am no where done filling you up.”

You clenched when he said it, earning a small groan from him. You were already too tight, when you spasmed on him it was nearly painful. There was more to do yet, more of you to claim as his. Just the tip of his cock was simply not enough.

His hips started moving again, the folds of his head pulling at the skin of your entrance but not actually crossing the barrier. He was gently rocking, barely making friction between you two. Your hand clawed at his knee, breath hitching. You let an airy moan slip, his head no longer an intrusion but something hot and melty barely rubbing your walls. It started to feel almost good.

Alastor’s cock was throbbing, his shaft touch-starved and desperate for the heat of your cunt. Your face was relaxing now, eyes blinking around new sensations. He wanted to see you experience more, more firsts and frighteningly foreign pleasures. He wanted to see you scared of how good he could make you feel. Alastor wanted you to never feel whole again without him buried balls deep in you.

“Can you take more?” His voice was like gravel, a radio static crackling in.

You met his eyes, glowing still in the dim light, wide and nearly frenzied in their dilation. His smile was practically beaming down at you.

“I don’t know.” You were scared to move forward, even though you wanted more.

“I don’t like liars.” A pop of electricity arcing at the end of his words. You pulled a pillow over your face, trying to hide from the reaction you knew he’d have as his voice made you tighten around him. “Your body says otherwise,” he hissed.

You wanted to say ‘yes’, if this could feel good then how great would all of him feel? But you were scared to vocalize it. Scared to make it start. Alastor lifted the pillow, “I need to see you, dear.” He set it beside his leg, “Do you remember what I said earlier?”

Brow furrowed, you shook your head. His grin widened to his ears as his hands slid down your thighs to your hips and he sank his cock to the hilt.

The element of surprise definitely made the nerves of saying ‘yes’ dissipate, but you were now choking on your breath, hands gripping at the blankets beneath you. Was this normal? Was he too far inside you? You felt nauseous, your guts prodded by Alastor’s member.

“How does it feel now?” He watched your eyes scanning the ceiling for an answer. You felt sure there was no way his head could leave you ever again. It was so snuggly fit in you, you feared you’d be pulled inside out. “Words, dear.”

You sat up on your elbows, sweating from the nerves of it all. “Like there’s a big stick stuck in me.”

“Accurate!” He laughed, and began pulling out. You whined, head dropping back. Almost taking himself out completely, he paused before thrusting back in. The head of his cock dragged against your walls, you could feel him with such detail. Every inch of him leaving impressions behind. Alastor could feel it too, how your soft warmth moved out of his way with every push. How pliable your womb was to his intrusions.

More. You could take more, he was positive of it.

Slowly, your moans began to get louder as the pressure faded into pleasure. Every time he bottomed out, you jumped. Every time he pulled out, you wanted to chase after him with your hips.

Watching your face soften, eyes now watery, Alastor was sure you were relaxed enough. He grabbed the pillow beside him, lifting your ass and sliding it under the small of your back. You didn’t ask, just waited to see what the point was. Dissatisfied, he grabbed another and added it under you.

Your hips were up, ass hanging over the ledge the pillows made, back bent upward. When he began to thrust again, you whinced feeling a new part of you widen for him. “Can you see me?” You looked at him when he said it, but he grabbed your hand and placed it beneath your belly button. When he pushed back in, you could feel his cock beneath your hand. Moving it, you watched your stomach bulge slightly when he was completely sheathed in you.

“Oh fuck-,” your head fell back into the bed, it was too much to feel let alone to watch, “Too deep.”

He hummed an acknowledgement, picking up his pace. “Let me see how you cum.”

Your face was hot, reluctantly bringing your hand to your clit and rubbing.

No, this wasn’t a mistake at all. If anything you regretted not asking sooner.

His thrusts now brought lightning to your core, your finger quickening in speed with the realization of just how good he could feel.

Studying your face still, he adjusted his angle until he saw the muscles in your neck tighten. He knew he found your g-spot, your moans dipping into cries.

“I can’t—,” You couldn’t get over the hump, knowing he was watching you, waiting for you.

“You can”, the lights flickered, his eyes now black with small red pupils illuminating your naked body, “and you will, my dear.” One of his hands stopped pressing finger sized bruises into your hips to instead push your own finger aside. The wide pad of his thumb took over and began thrumming you fast and hard.

That familiar build up of pleasure was stronger than you’d ever felt it, and when it finally snapped your muscles from your thighs to your toes cramped. How long had you been tensing?

You practically sobbed into the crook of your arm, Alastor’s hips slowing but still carrying you through your orgasm. They moved slower and slower, until stopping entirely. His head popped out of you, leaving you feeling hollow. Cold.

Eyes wet and blurry, you looked up at him, “Aren’t you going to finish?”

“If we do everything now, what ‘first’ will we have for tomorrow night? And the night after that?” He smiled, member already hidden away and pants buttoned. Your thighs twitched. “Same time tomorrow, little doe?”

You covered your face with both hands, and nodded.

His big hand came to your head and patted you gently, “Good girl.”

I hope you liked it 🥺 I don’t feel as confident about this one. Fun fact, my first time involved bondage. Very on brand, huh? 💖

༻Masterlist༺

Gonna start calling his dick ‘the element of surprise’. You look tired today! What happened? Oh the element of surprise kept me up all night.

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bratbby333 · 1 day

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rough game...c'mere, brat — ryomen sukuna

𓆩♱𓆪 synopsis gamer!bf sukuna loses his game. while he's taking his anger out on you, he goes a little too far. 𓆩♱𓆪 word count 2k 𓆩♱𓆪 cw established relationship, language, choking, use of safe word, rough sex, hints of cnc, degradation, cervix fucking, smut/angst/comfort 𓆩♱𓆪 an from an anon request! sorry it took so long my love...thank you for being patient with me xx not beta read!

nsfw 𓆩♡𓆪 mdni

“Fuck this dumbass shit,” a grating voice broke through your peaceful silence. The clattering sound of a discarded headset and the angry glide of a chair echoed through the hallway, making your shoulders tense. Not even a minute later, Sukuna’s heavy footsteps stomped toward the room, shoving the door open.

“Rough game?” you inquired, your eyes still focused on your reading. He took quick strides toward you, scowling as he tore your book from your hands. Before you could reprimand him for interrupting your quiet time and discarding your book so haphazardly, his hands were anchored under your armpits and pulling you from your chair. He tossed you onto the bed, your body bouncing against the mattress. Not a single word was exchanged as he clambered on after you, but his hungered eyes scaling up and down your body told you everything you needed to know.

Shock reverberated through your body at how quickly this was unfolding, but the aggressiveness of his actions paired with the animalistic look on his face sent pangs of desire through your core. It was typical for Sukuna to be irritated after a particularly infuriating game, but not like this. Anticipation swirled through your stomach, excited for what was to come. He fucked you so good when he was pissed.

His hands clawed across your body as he tore your clothes away, his feverish kisses turned into battling tongues and clashing teeth as he leaned over you. He ran two digits between your slit before spitting a fat glob of saliva onto your cunt, thumbing at it as he licked the palm of his free hand, wrapping it around his length. He jerked himself off as he pumped into you, his thick fingers dragging against your g-spot with every plunge. His tongue darted from between his lips, the muscle lapping hungrily at your nipple, sucking harshly before latching on, his teeth grazing the sensitive nub. Your back arched toward him, fully immersed in the shockwaves of desire that coursed through you. With a couple rough rubs of his shaft against your clit, he was sinking deep inside you, bottoming out immediately.

You had seen him get like this on multiple occasions– he got riled up pretty easily when it came to his games. The fact that you got any sort of foreplay before the main event was a shock to you as his hips rutted against you. But even then, it still wasn’t enough to prepare you for what was in store. Sukuna gave you no time to adjust to his pace as he pummeled your pretty pussy. His thick cock tugged in and out, the less than optimal amount of lubrication making the stretch of his girth borderline unpleasant. But the sensation of his head rubbing against your sweet spot made your tummy churn with lust, your arousal flooding through you, dampening your cunt after a few of his mean strokes.

He felt your walls flutter around him in an attempt to adjust to the abruptness of his intrusion. He stared down at where your bodies met as he bullied himself deeper, your face twisted as you worked to accommodate him. Small whimpers left your lips as he fucked into you, every brutal rock of his pelvis made the head of his cock carress you in just the right way. Sukuna loved when you struggled to take all of him. Even with the work he did to open you up with his fingers, he knew it wasn’t enough to get you good and ready. But he was hungry, starved even, frustration ripping through him, his carnal urges taking over. This wasn’t enough for him tonight. He needed an outlet to channel his anger into…he needed to break you.

A dark growl emanated from his sternum as he repositioned, pressing your legs toward your chest. You had just barely gotten used to him before the new angle pushed his cock way deeper than your body wanted to allow, and so soon at that. Something was off today. Your eyes frantically darted across his face as his vicious thrusts began to slam into your womb. Sukuna’s dark, demented expression was bone-chilling. And then it clicked. He didn’t care if it felt good…he was happier when it didn’t, when he was the only one getting off. His ego had taken over. He wanted it to hurt, wanted to take all the rage he felt out on you. And that scared the shit out of you.

"Ahh!...'K-kuna...Sukuna!" you yelped, your palms pressed into his abdomen as his hips ruthlessly slammed into you. His hands pushed into the back of your thighs, your legs shaking from the deep stretch. The thick head of his cock brushed meanly against your cervix with every thrust.

"Yeah, brat...take that shit, say my fuckin' name," he growled, pressing your legs deeper. One of his hands was planted by the side of your head, the other wrapped around your throat while he leaned his full body weight against the back of your legs, folding you into yourself, the pressure against your ribs coupled with his bruising grip around your windpipe labored your breathing, making your head spin.

"I...can't....h-hurts," you rasped, your voice a broken whisper as his fingers dug even deeper into the sides of your neck.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, slamming himself against you with hungered rage.

He was so caught up in his own bliss, ignoring your mumbled pleas for relief as he bulldozed into you. He didn’t care. The sadistic chuckle that broke through his chest solidified that fact. His eyes were dark, his brows furrowed deep. He was lost in the sloppy sounds of your pussy sucking him in, spurred on by the whines that seeped through your constricted windpipe as he slammed into the soft wall at the back of your cunt. The rough huffs of your breathing and your fragmented whimpers got him off even more.

“Su..kuna,” you stammered, your words caught in your lungs. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, attempting to pull his fist away, but he wouldn't budge.

You were dazed, your eyes watering from the ache between your legs as you slapped his arm, "W-wait–ahh!– shit…’s too mu..ch." You wedged your arm between the two of you, rubbing quick circles against your clit in hopes to alleviate the burn.

But his pace was unwavering and your body couldn’t adjust. His eyes were locked on yours, a demented grin on his face as waves of fear raked through your body…an unvoiced message ringing clear between the two of you: He heard you, but he’s not stopping.

He dipped down to suck harshly at the sweet flesh behind your ear, biting at the sensitive skin. “Stay still n take it, brat…let me have this.” His words echoed in your head as he leaned back, straightening the arm that was anchored around your throat as he mercilessly rutted into you, every smack shooting both pain and pleasure through your trembling frame.

The rough plunges of his cock iinn and ooutt of your sticky walls burned so beautifully. As much as you wanted to surrender to the waves of arousal that were threatening your floodgate, it was too much. The discomfort outweighed the enjoyment. Not this time. It was all too much.

“Fu..ck,” you squeaked, your throat raw and face flushed as anxiety gnawed at your spine. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your vision going dark. “R-red,” was all you could manage through the tightness of your throat. Your eyes glazed over, stars visible behind your heavy lids from your depleting supply of oxygen. Your trembling hands clawed up and down his forearms in hopes he’d hear you. But he didn’t. His rhythm persisted, the vulgar sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass drowned out your desperate pleas. He was splitting you in half, every rut of his hips sending you closer to your breaking point.

“Ple..ase–unghh…can’t,” tears welled in your eyes as Sukuna smiled down at you. “Too much, huh? Can’t take me like ya used to?” His jaw was tight as he taunted you, his grip around your neck tightening even more as he jostled your head around. Your fearful eyes flipped a switch in his brain as he pulled out and shoved all the way back in, delighted with the way your writhing body attempted to get away from him. His brow arched with amusement as he watched your face contort. This was a game for him. He was getting off on toying with you. A broken scream cut through your lungs while you gasped for air, tears spilling from your eyes.

“Red–fu..uck!–RED!” A perplexed look painted your boyfriend’s face before realization set in. You gasped as his grip loosened and his hips stilled against you. A lingering hint of disappointment flashed through his eyes as he pulled out, pushing himself off you to allow your legs to fall against the bed. You wheezed and coughed, the pulsing ache in your abdomen fully setting in as you worked to regain your composure.

"You don't have to take this shit out on me all the time, 'Kuna!" You swiped away the spit that was dribbling from the corner of your mouth. "You were too rough this time."

"You've never complained about it before," he huffed with a roll of his eyes, his ignorance sending pangs of anger through your body.

"Can you take me seriously for once in your life? You hurt me, Sukuna." You muscled your body away from him, propping yourself up against the headboard. He stood, circling around to you before taking a seat next to you. You avoided his gaze, your stomach churning and head buzzing while you worked to quell your fear.

He watched as your chest heaved, eyes brimming with tears as you massaged your neck, your body twitching from the throbbing pulse in your abdomen while irritation prickled under your skin at his obvious indifference. Sukuna dipped down fast, catching your fallen tears on his tongue, a smug grin on his face as he pulled your hands away from your throat, holding them against his chest. A groan escaped him at the sight of the purple bruises in the shape of his fingertips decorating the delicate flesh of your throat, the look of your fucked out disposition turning him on once more. “I’ll be gentle…if you wanna try again,” he suggested, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Sukuna,” you warned, shooting daggers toward your pink haired boyfriend. “I’m being serious. It really hurt,” you whined. Your face contorted at his lack of compassion as you rubbed away the trail of spit he had left on your face, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest. He huffed before shifting closer to you. A heavy silence settled in the room as your breathing began to return to normal.

"I...'m sorry," he grumbled, unsure of how to comfort you. It was the first time you’d ever used your safeword. His face was neutral, but confusion flooded his mind, knowing for certain that he’d been far rougher than that in the past. He thumbed the back of your hands before placing a kiss on each one. “I didn’t mean to hurt you… that bad,” he glanced at your face to make sure that comment didn’t upset you. “I thought you were enjoying it, didn’t know that when you said it hurt you actually meant it.”

Your head shook side to side. To be fair, you usually said things like that to boost his ego, especially after he lost a game. The dirty talk exchanged between the two of you during one of your sessions was definitely…specific–not for the faint of heart. You sighed deeply as you worked to calm your nerves, the pain in your core subsiding. It was an honest misunderstanding. You couldn’t stay mad at him for long, either.

“It’s okay,” you conceded, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss on his cheek, before pulling back, a coy smile on your face as you looked up at him. “Just listen to me next time, will ya?” A raspy “mhmm” vibrated through his chest as you curled your body against his.

“Give me 20 and we can try again…but go easy on me.”

“No promises, doll.”

“Sukuna…”

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚

an took a break from my gamer!bf sukuna series n i forgot how much i enjoyed writing for him. sending a big thank you to the anon who requested this...i hope you enjoy my love.

also!! i'm almost at 500 followers??? thank you guys so much for your support on my writing...i literally cannot believe it! i love y'all sm xx

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mariahcarreyyy · 1 month

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Hii!!! CONGRATULATIONS ON 2K! I love reading your work, it’s always amazing 💕

Do you think you could write something with this angst prompt “lashing out even though they know they will regret it” for Oscar ? And maybe he is the one lashing out?

# prompt no.7, lashing out even though they know they will regret it

mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post

Sometimes, Oscar wishes he could scream at everyone who calls him unbothered.

He wishes they could see him now, irritation coursing through his veins, mixing with his blood like water and oil; he wishes they could witness the dark cloud looming over his muscular frame, following him and more ever-present than his own shadow; he wishes they could cower at the sight of the scowl on his face, nose scrunched in distaste at all times.

The results of his race had been enough to send him over the edge. A less than satisfactory eighteenth, and it echoes bitterly in his head the entire race debreif.

Lando squeezes an encouraging hand on Oscar's shoulder as they both walk out of the papaya garage, and Oscar can't bring himself to do anything but send Lando a shaky smile.

A prolonged car ride, and a few hours later, the driver twists the doorknob of your shared flat. Oscar's shoulders visibly drop, leaving the remains of a bad race on the floor and letting his body (mind and soul) rest.

"Osc? Y'home?"

Your voice cuts through the silence, and Oscar wants to punch his own gut at how his jaw clenches at the sound. Relax, he reminds himself. But Oscar can't—he knows he can't.

Because the residual pounding in his head is making him wince; he's sweaty and shivering; he's famished and cannot bear the thought of food; he's put off by the sight of you before him and he wants to be cradled in your arms, too.

It's all too confusing for him. Oscar decides being angry would be easier, flow smoothly against his tongue. He almost forgoes his plan when his brown eyes meet your pity-laced ones.

"Hey, baby," you murmur, hesitantly reaching up to cup his cheeks. "I'm sorry, 'bou—"

Sweet nothings die in your throat when Oscar swerves away from your touch, wincing distastefully. Seemingly refusing to look at you, his eyes dart anywhere but the comfort of yours.

"I don't need you to baby me," Oscar grits out, his hips swaying to glide past you and the crestfallen look on your face.

"Oh," you bite the inside of your cheek, hands flailing helplessly to your side and watching him pad against the cold floors. "Okay, uh. There's pasta on the stove if you're hungry."

Oscar pinches his wrist. The thought of tangible pain seemed more comfortable than the guilt gnawing in his heart. Still, Oscar laments, you are too nice; I'm cruel now, and you shouldn't be this way towards me. He refrains from turning around when he hears you audibly exhale shakily.

"M'not hungry," he shouts again, slamming the door behind him without looking back.

Without looking at you.

authors note. i dont like this honestly i feel like its very ooc bcs i dont see osc lashing out a lot. i made him feel guilty idk if that helped. en e wayz enjoyy xx

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

Code Broken (Series) dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

summary: "You broke into my house," Joel says moving his gaze from your eyes back down to your mouth as his wide hand grazes his belt buckle. "Moved my shit around. Least you could do is be polite."

You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

[AU where Joel Miller ends up in Jackson City by himself.]

warnings/tags: Extremely dubious consent, oral sex [m receiving], rough oral sex, face-fucking, Come shot, Joel is bad at feelings, Mean Joel, Dirty Talk

word count: 6.9k

a/n: Y'all, this whole series is pretty depraved (from my perspective) and much darker than my normal stuff. I wanted it as a challenge and I had a lot of fun doing the series, there's 5 parts so I hope you enjoy it. Comments and the like really make my day. xx

masterlist

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Chapter 1: Go your Own Way

Joel Miller is the most serious man you've ever seen. The rigidity of his spine when he walks, the dark eyes always darting around in stormy irritation. People still greet him when he goes into the center of town, and he nods politely and makes small talk. But he never looks anything other than bothered.

He terrifies you.

You know his name only because of your friends in the small community of Jackson City. His brother is Tommy, a cheerful man married to Maria with a baby on the way. Tommy is the one that welcomed you into this settlement years ago, the one that settled you into the modest home you now live in on the end of Rancher Street. Larger homes buttress you on either side and yours is dwarfed in comparison but you don’t care. You still can’t believe you have your own house. Your own bed. Your own everything.

You watched the survivors come from all over the globe, watched as the community swelled in number and joy over the years. It was like a slice of heaven in and amongst a hellish landscape of the undead.

And then Joel Miller had entered and everything for you changed.

Tommy and Joel couldn't be more different. Tommy is sweet and polite and likes to ask after people to make sure they're okay. He’s stoic and his dark eyes light up when he laughs or makes a joke.

Joel keeps to himself. He doesn't talk to many people. He answers people with a serious tone in his drawl. He likes horses and he likes music, that's as much as you can tell about what he likes because he rarely does anything else.

When he'd moved into Jackson City he'd been given the home next to yours. Yours was a simple one bedroom, meant for singles, his was a spanning home with a garage. You rarely saw him outside unless he was headed for the stables or communal meals.

Sometimes on nights your window was open to let in the night breeze you heard him playing his guitar in his place. On rare occasions he sang, his voice rasping and mournful under the chords. It made your chest tight and your eyes prick with tears. It made you remember a youth you’d rather forget.

It was actually the music that had inspired your first attempt at an introduction.

You'd been out planting in your garden when you heard the front door to his place creak open. You walked casually over to the fence that separated your properties to see him sitting on the front stoop of his place, a pale blue coffee mug in one hand.

He was looking into the middle distance, his profile strong. You'd leaned on the fence, hoping to catch his attention. As a man always on alert he had, his dark eyes sliding over to you as you greeted him.

"You play really well," you told him enthusiastically, recalling the tune you heard him play late into the night the evening prior. "Was that Fleetwood Mac you were singing yesterday?"

Joel hadn't replied. In fact he'd given you the coldest look you'd ever received, stood up and gone back into his house. You'd stood there looking after him in shock for several moments until going back to your gardening.

When you'd told your friend Trish what happened that following Tuesday during your weekly "book club" (drinking poorly made wine and playing cards) she'd laughed in that annoying way of hers and told you to stop being so sensitive.

Trish told you that Joel Miller was rude to everyone. That the only reason people put up with it was because his brother was Tommy and because Joel himself was one of the few bachelors in the community. Then she’d gotten a soft look in her eyes and sighed that Joel was gorgeous in that sullen, quiet way that made older men mysterious. You hadn’t understood that, having never found poor humor and a bad attitude attractive.

You’d decided it had been a one-off. Maybe Joel was just tired that morning. You tried waving to him if you saw him in the street, one hand usually on the reigns of a horse tugging it gently behind him. He never returned the gesture.

It came to a head when you and Trish had been to a movie night in the square some months later, the summer heat always driving you indoors where it was cooler. They were playing an old science fiction feature and finding seats was near impossible. It was always like this when a popular film was showing. The popcorn lay in big tubs and patrons brought bowls to scoop the kernels into.

The children were hunched in front of the large white blanket that acted as a screen chatting animatedly. Your co-workers waved, observing how busy it was as you scanned the space, seeing an empty chair in the middle row near the back. Trish told you to grab it and that she'd search for another free one.

You'd been so intent on taking the chair that you didn't even realize who was seated next to you until you plopped down, brushing arms with the bare forearm next to you.

You noticed his jeans first, the way they seemed molded to his muscular thighs. Then his forearms, his plaid shirt rolled to the elbows and then finally up his neck to his profile, the full lips, the hawkish nose and the dark eyes that you could clearly see were trying to ignore your presence.

"Hello neighbor," you'd chirped trying not to sound as nervous as you felt. You'd watched as he glanced out the corner of his eyes at you, nodding briefly. Emboldened by this you motioned towards the large white sheet.

“You a big fan of Charlton Heston?”

He’d given a short nod, a grunt of a reply. This had felt like such progress to you and you relaxed a bit into the seat. You saw Trish heading your way with popcorn in hand and your knee bumped into Joel’s as you swivelled in your chair, angling your neck to see if there were any other free seats.

"Do you see any other empty seats? My friend Trish-"

He gave you one sharp look, scanning your body from top to bottom before rolling his eyes and jerking from his seat. Your face went bright red as he sidled past you just as Trish approached with popcorn.

"What was that?" Trish asked, looking after his frame quickly disappearing down the street. You'd shrugged, embarrassment overtaking you.

But the message was clear: Joel Miller can't stand you.

You suppose after that is when you decided on payback. Something innocent, really, silly in hindsight. Something that would irritate him on a daily basis.

The plan was to hide his guitar somewhere within his home. Specifically, in the back of his under his kitchen sink... then the bathtub ... then under his bed.

It's immature, especially at your age. But you'd missed out on so much life during those twenty years of running and hiding that this felt fun.

You could imagine him going insane trying to find it. Shouting angrily when he realized it was misplaced only to find it popping up in random places in his home.

It was an innocuous prank, borne out of boredom and humiliation. And if Joel caught on or accused you and brought you before the sheriff, what could they do? The guitar never left his house. How could it be stealing?

It had seemed like the perfect plan.

But now as you pull the black hooded jacket over dark jeans and look into the night sky this evening, you're wondering if this was really is the best idea.

You've gotten away with it twice before. Once to hide the guitar in his shower. Once under his kitchen sink.

You do this once a month on one of the evenings that everyone is at the movies. After your last experience with Joel, when you started to internally begin cataloguing his movements, you'd noticed that Joel attends every single one. His only habitual act that you can count on.

His visits with Tommy are regular but never scheduled, sometimes they go to the bar, sometimes at Joel's and you assume, sometimes at Tommy's. He's not a big joiner, not found during game nights at the canteen. He rides, that much you've seen and know. He likes to be around the animals.

There’s not much to do in the evenings in Jackson City, and that usually rests easily on the community. After so much violence it’s nice to have quiet, peaceful nights. But the movie nights provide popular and give you enough time to act, a good hour and a half minimum. You could push it to two hours but that seems foolish. It's a perfect time because it's where your neighbors are usually spending their time as well.

The first time you'd navigated from your roof to his, you'd been shocked at how easy it was. Your homes were close together and jumping onto his shingles was nothing more than a gentle leap in the darkness.

The window to his hallway was unlatched, just as yours was, just as most everyone's was. You lived on a glorified compound; no one felt the need to lock up the upper floor windows.

You'd squeezed in, falling gracelessly onto the wood floor. You'd worked quickly, finding the guitar beside the fireplace downstairs and gently placing it into Joel's shower half leaning against the tile.

Then you'd run back, closing the window after you, jumping back onto your roof and throwing yourself back into your bedroom with your heart in your throat. You hadn’t taken time to catch your breath before you'd rushed down your own steps and run to the movies, coming in the back to make it seem like you'd always been there, standing near the far corner with your heart racing, trying not to giggle.

When the lights flickered on and everyone rose to leave you made sure that Joel saw you, brushing past him intentionally. You had to have an alibi. He needed to see that you’d been here the whole night, just as he had.

"Excuse me," you'd said airily, not even put off by the silence of his reply when you ‘bumped’ into him.

The second time in his place you were finding an appropriate hiding spot for his guitar when you'd noticed other things about him. Like the detailed wood carvings that lined the mantle over the fireplace. The paintings of landscapes filled with animals hung around the sparsely decorated home.

You’d taken time to wander around the home, noticing the records, the other guitars hung on the wall. You’d seen the reading glasses on the coffee table in front of the sofa and the woodworking space in the garage. It had been thrilling seeing this interior life, knowing that the impenetrable Joel Miller wore reading glasses and carved wood figurines. There was something beautiful in those small pieces of him.

But tonight as you stand looking at yourself in your mirror you wonder if maybe that's enough. You've had your fun. You've tricked him twice; you've snooped in his home. That's enough.

That should be enough.

But you haven’t seen his bedroom yet. Something holds you back every single time you consider it. You’ve walked by that closed door twice, knowing that solving the mystery of Joel Miller could be even closer if you just walked over the threshold.

You’re broken from these thoughts when you hear his front door open. You creep to your bedroom window, hiding in the shadows to see his tall frame pulling his jacket on, locking his front door and heading to the center of town for the film. His boots crunch the leaves underfoot as he moves and when he turns the corner you know it's time to move.

You traverse across your roof silently, cloaked in the darkness of the night. The neighborhood is mercifully quiet and you take a moment to appreciate the view. Your thankful for the still of the evening, the quiet and you glance up to see the stars dotting the sky.

Then you’re back focusing, leaping onto Joel's roof and hurriedly moving inside. You pass the familiar sights of his closed bedroom door, the creaking wood hallway leading to bathroom. The single red toothbrush that sits sadly in a fogged water glass. You jog quickly downstairs to retrieve the guitar, always in its stand by the fireplace.

It gleams in the moonlight streaming through the window, as if it’s begging you to grab it, to hide it, to play a game. You take it into your hands, always sure to be careful with it. Pulling a prank on him is one thing, willful destruction quite another.

It's your last time doing this, you've decided. So where should you hide it?

The answer comes to you almost immediately - his bedroom. The only room of his house you haven't snooped yet. The only space of his that you haven’t conquered. Excited tingles go through you as you race back up the creaking step to his bedroom, pushing the door open without ceremony before your nerves overtake you.

It's a simple box shaped room, larger but the exactly the same shape as yours, which is exactly the same as the many homes that line these streets. Joel's is much less inviting than yours though.

He has a bed near the window, tan sheets and blue coverlet. The bed is hastily made, as if he'd been in a rush to leave. There is a small nightstand next to his bed holding a pile of books. On one wall is a well built shelf holding a myriad of records, all ones you've heard him play and on the table below it is the record player.

You observe that his closet doors are half open and you pull them smoothly apart, your gaze going hungrily over the contents inside. You’re amazed at how neat and organized it is. Shirts and jackets are hung, hats on shelves, belts strung on hooks.

The familiar green plaid is hanging there dead center, reminding you of that embarrassment at the movies. Despite this your fingers go to the fabric and you find it soft with use and age. Without thinking you dip your face forward, dragging the fabric to your nose and you inhale. It smells like him, or how you imagine he smells. Like the outdoors and fresh laundry and warm cologne. Probably the cologne you saw in his bathroom during your last adventure.

You take the smooth neck of the guitar and place it gently in the far side of the closet floor, next to what looks like a beat-up tan backpack. You close the closet doors with a smile of self satisfaction, imagining what his reaction will be.

You've never actually seen Joel get upset by these pranks but one day working on your garden you did hear him complaining to Tommy over coffee that he must be getting old because he can’t remember where I put my fucking guitar.

You'd giggled yourself silly at that, trying your best not to be heard as you moved the soil under your gloves. It had tickled you immensely to know that your small inconvenience was upsetting him. You felt vindicated for the way he had treated you.

You stand in the center of his bedroom and your eyes drift back to that pile of books and you find yourself curious about what he reads. You traces the spines with your forefinger and your gaze and you're shocked when you find classics by Jane Austen and books on astronomy. You'd expected worn paperbacks of cowboys or travel.

You notice that behind this stack of books there's a framed photo of a smiling Joel and a sweet faced little girl, obviously his daughter at what looks like a carnival. You can see a waving Tommy in the distance. You’re shocked at how different Joel looks when he smiles, his dark eyes crinkling authentically, his smile broad and his face boyish. Perhaps he is sort of attractive, in a brooding way.

You notice the yellow of age in the corner of the photograph and the realization that the photo is over twenty years old. When you look closer you can see Joel is younger, his hair and beard not threaded with grey.

Knowing what that means in this dark world of carnage is what solidifies the realization that you've overstepped.

You need to leave. Fuck the prank. Fuck harassing a guy who clearly has very good reason to not like people. You were so quick to judge, so fast to make it about you when maybe, just maybe, he was just a loner who never got over the loss of his kid.

You even think about taking the guitar back to its place by the fire when you hear the distant jingle of keys hitting the lock to the front door.

What the fuck? He was supposed to be gone at least another hour!

Your heart sinks when you hear him enter his home, tossing the keys onto the kitchen table and moving quickly to the stairs.

Fuck.

Now his footsteps are on the creaking staircase coming your way. If you run for the window in the hallway he'll see you through the gaps in the banister. If you hide under the bed you'll be easily seen.

Panic overtakes you and you do the only thing you can think of and dash into the closet, sure to avoid hitting the guitar with your leg. You close the doors, leaving them open just a hair, just as he had.

You don’t want to arouse suspicion. You'll just stay here a little bit. Wait until he goes back downstairs and then try to sneak back out the window.

"The fuck?"

You hear Joel on the landing and now you realize your fatal mistake when he murmurs something else to himself and you hear the heavy sound of the window being closed.

You left the fucking window open.

He knows someone is inside.

You cover your mouth, muffling the shallow pants of terror that go through you when Joel enters the bedroom. Through the slits between the slightly parted closet doors you can just make him out. He doesn’t turn on the light in the bedroom, so everything is still bathed in a blanket of darkness tinged blue from the moon’s glow.

He’s wearing a flannel, this one tighter around the shoulder, emphasizing the muscles of his back and broad expanse of his upper body. He looks suspiciously around, his face stoic like someone on a deadly mission.

He walks past the closet, his body strong and his movement’s solid in a way that intimidates you. If he wanted he could snap you in half and not break a sweat. He scans the room before slowly dropping to his knees beside the bed, craning his head to see underneath.

When he sees it's clear he stands again and moves out of your view.

You tilt your head, trying to listen for his footfalls but hear nothing but silence. Did he go downstairs? You figure he's gone to check out the other rooms when the closet doors fly open revealing you to him.

Joel is there, his hands on either door as he looks down at your hooded frame hunched in the corner.

"I fucking knew it."

He reaches in and pulls you out of the closet by the arm of your jacket but you stumble out, wrenching out of his grip enough to run into the hallway, your heart pounding.

The window is closed. It'll take too long to open. Your best bet is to run downstairs and out the front door. You think since you're hood is still on he hasn't seen your face properly and there is a chance to make an escape.

You move swiftly down the hallway, your eyes on the nearing stairs but he's immediately there, gripping you by the back of your jacket and tugging harshly. You fall back into his arms before he’s whirled you around to face him.

You give a sharp yelp when he slams you against the nearest wall, his hand around your throat pinning you there.

"Who the fuck are you?"

His voice is loud and echoes in the barren hallway. He sounds furious, not that you're shocked. If you'd come home to a stranger hiding in your closet you likely wouldn't be elated either. You try to hide your face in the hood of your jacket, panic making you feel cold all over. If you could just-

His large hand comes to rip the hood of your head, taking with it a few loose strands of your hair. You give a hiss of pain as your scalp tingles.

You're caught.

Joel's stares down at you with fury in those dark eyes of his that fades abruptly when he recognizes you. "You live next door."

He still has you loosely pinned to the wall by the throat, but now he drops his hand, gliding it down your collar before pulling it from your body. He smooths his palm over his wavy hair, not out of nerves but more out of disbelief at seeing you of all people in his home.

"Did I hurt you?"

You stare up at him in shock. You've broken into his house and he's the one asking if you're hurt? You shake your head. The slam of your back against the wall had shocked you more than anything. He looks confused, his eyes narrowing on your face.

"How'd you get in my house? Why are you here?"

You're both breathing heavily and you can only hope he doesn't see the fear in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you sputter instead of answering him. "Just a joke, was just-"

"How did you get into my house?" He repeats though this time his voice isn't as hard, more curious.

"I j-just climbed in the window," you explain shakily pointing to the window at the end of the hall. "My roof is close enough to yours that..."

You trail off, not wanting to incriminate yourself further. He's so close to you that you can feel his warm breath falling over your cheeks.

"I've never stolen anything," you assure him just in case that's what's really upsetting him. "Never touched any of your stuff except your guitar. Just hid it a few times and I was really careful with it."

"Why were you doin' that?'

"It was just a joke," you say again weakly, though now under his severe eye line you can't understand why at one time you thought it was so amusing.

He's not responding, not replying, just staring at you with that inscrutable gaze. There is a flutter of panic starting in your belly, the realization that no one knows you’re trapped between Joel Miller and the wall. The knowledge that despite a few interactions, he remains a mystery.

"I should get back home," you whisper, trying to sidle off to the left. "My boyfriend is waiting for m-"

His palm comes to lay flat against the wall just next to you, boxing you in. Its dark in the hallway, but the moon hits you both, silhouetting you and showing you Joel’s expressive eyes.

"You live alone," Joel says with a sigh, as if your lie has disappointed him. "Have for as long as I've been here. Only company you get at your place is on Tuesday nights with that gal of yours."

You gape up at Joel, shocked at how accurate he is. Your brows furrow in confusion. "How do you know that?"

"Same reason you know I go to the movies every other week."

He's been watching you.

Just as you've been watching him. And while you know why you've been following his schedule, noting his arrivals and departures you can't understand why he would be doing the same for you. He just keeps staring at you in that intense way of his that makes you feel warm and tingly all over.

"My friend Trish-"

"No one knows you're here," Joel murmurs, his eyes moving to your mouth and then back to your eyes. His voice is so low, so velvety, so soothing despite the inherent menace in the sentence.

You swallow thickly, the sensation of fear slowly curving the length of your spine. You’re suddenly so aware about how little you know of Joel Miller. For all you know he could be a serial killer.

But that doesn't fit with how he's studying your face. He looks more open, even bordering on amused. But that can't be right, he can't stand you and now he knows you've broken into his house on more than one occasion.

"Had a feeling someone was fucking with me,' Joel observes evenly. "S'why I turned around tonight. Realized the guitar thing only happens when I'm out at the movies."

You remain silent, feeling so stupid. Why had you needed to keep going? Why didn't you just go with your gut instinct and stay home?

"I’ll go," you croak, hoping that Joel will take pity on you and just let you leave. Joel's face remains placid, his hand going to rest where your neck meets your shoulder, stopping you from leaving.

"You broke into my house," Joel says moving his eyes from your eyes back down to your mouth. "Moved my shit around. Least you could do is be polite."

Polite? What is that supposed to mean?

The meaning becomes quite obvious when you feel his heavy hand on your shoulder begin to press, moving you back to slide down the wall until you're on your knees between he and it. The wood floor bites into your denim clad knees, but you remain still.

His eyes stay on your face as realization dawn's on you. His fingertips are ghosting over your shoulder and you watch as his free hand goes to his jeans, undoing the button and bringing down the zipper. You can see his pale boxers underneath and watch his hand flexing.

Your eyes dart back up to his face, seeing the way he towers over you, his breathing elevated only slightly and his eyes fixed on yours.

Why aren't you running?

He reaches and grips your wrist in his fingers. You watch almost detached as he opens your hand with his own and slides it under the waistband of his boxers.

Why aren't you screaming?

His stomach is warm and taut, strangely smooth for a man of his vocation. You hesitate before his hand is forcing yours to continue, wrapping it tightly around his hard cock. You hold in a gasp as your palm hits it, instinctively curling.

"Like that," he murmurs gently.

He's warm and thick and under your exploratory fingers you can feel him twitch which excites as well as terrifies you. He hisses through his teeth softly as you begin to squeeze, your eyes focused on his face. His eyes never leaving yours, the full mouth dropping open as he groans.

You continue slowly, feeling the ridge of his shaft, the pulsing heat of that iron under velvety skin. He has his palm flat on the wall above your head, his forehead moves to rest in the crook of his arm as he gently shifts his hips.

You stare up at him from your spot kneeling on the floor, still in disbelief that this is happening. Usually just the sight of him walking down the same street as you is enough to send you bolting in the other direction.

But now his gaze is soft and half lidded. His mouth isn't curled into a sneer or scowl. Joel Miller is much less intimidating when he's leaning into your stroking hand.

Then with a soft grunt he bats your hand away and brings himself out of his boxers. You hide a sigh at the sight of his broad hand curling around his thick cock. You hadn’t expected beauty in him, a softness of movement inside his rigid edges.

He remains standing there unmoving and watches you stare, breathing shallowly as you drink him in. You think he must like it because you can see droplets of pre-cum gathering on the tip. It's obvious what he wants.

Your heart gallops. "I don't-"

"'Course I could just go down to the sheriff and see what they make of this break in," Joel interrupts tightly. "Whatever you'd prefer."

It's blackmail, plain and simple. And considering how the threat of being tossed into the wild with the ravenous clickers is always an option when it comes to the sheriff, you know your choices are limited.

His large hand has come to slip over the head of his cock, his hips moving to press into his fingers slowly. You seriously consider your chance of survival outside these walls survival when Joel tilts his head slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"I think you want it," he croons, his hand continuing to stroke himself shallowly. "Think you've wanted my cock for a while now, pretty eyes. Just been afraid to ask for it."

You frown, protestations dying on your lips as you consider his words. Had a small part of you been wondering what lay beneath your neighbors rough exterior? Was that why you had been so determined to engage with him in the first place?

Wait, did he call you pretty eyes?

A steady thrum starts between your legs at that, your knees pressing into the wood floor harshly. You feel too warm in your jacket, but you don't dare move. You feel like a trapped animal trying to outwit an apex predator.

"Just a taste," Joel suggests when you don't reply, his hand moving from his cock to cup your cheek. You feel your lips parting subconsciously to take in a sharp breath as you regard him twitching inches from your mouth.

Fuck why are you even considering this? You should be screaming, running away, not on your knees and looking at Joel's hard cock with what feels like a burgeoning anticipation.

No. You're not doing this. It's fucking degrading. You barely know Joel Miller and this is- Your eyes fly open when his hand comes to grip your chin. His eyes are heavy lidded with lust, the pupils blown wide.

"Open up," he commands huskily.

When you don't immediately acquiesce you feel his thumb drag over your lower lip, curling over your bottom teeth and urging your mouth to open for him.

After a moment of consideration your jaw goes slack and you feel your heart leap when Joel gives you a ghost of a smile. There is a brief shadow and you're almost convicted you saw a dimple in his right cheek.

You don't have time to consider this because he's taken his cock in his hand again, stroking the base languidly.

"Mouth open. Tongue out."

You hesitate, wondering how far this is all going to go. He's not actually going to go through with this, is he? You open your mouth a bit, your breathing coming out in hurried puffs. The amusement has fled from his features and he narrows those dark eyes of his on you

"Tongue. Out."

The words are clipped and offer no room for negotiation. With a quiver that goes through your core, you do as instructed, slowly inching your tongue out of your mouth and letting it hang over your lower lip.

He moves slowly, but you're still shocked when his hips shift forward. You turn your head at the last minute, panic overtaking you. Joel gives a grunt and you feel the warmth of his cock pressing against your cheek having just narrowly missed your mouth.

He growls in frustration, his hand coming to grip the back of your head as he drags his cock along your cheek. You feel the pre-cum smearing along your skin to the corner of your mouth like some debauched trail of pleasure but you seal your mouth closed, a small form of rebellion.

"Don't make me ask again."

His voice is low and dangerous. If it hadn't been so intimidating you might have pointed out that he hadn't asked for anything, just demanded. But as it is you’re caught in his home, his hand is wrapped in your hair and he doesn’t look like he’s fucking around.

You tilt your jaw and again stick out your tongue. With cock still in hand, he taps the weeping head onto your flattened tongue before letting it rest there, heavy and pulsing. The salty flavor of him explodes on your tongue, the ridges of his cock pronounced on your sensitive tongue.

Your eyes crack open and move up the length of his body, noting that Joel's breathing picks up when your eyes meet his again.

Without ceremony he slips past your lips, tensing only when you let out a small cry of surprise. When you offer no other protestations his cock inches further into the slick heat of your mouth. He gives a small shudder, his head tilting back and exposing the column of his neck.

Your eyes shutter closed, your mouth working around him, confused as to why you're not fighting this more.

"You deserve this," he says through slow exhales, his hand bracing on the wall behind you. His eyes are closed so you're not sure if he's talking to you or to himself.

His hips snap forward and you whimper, feeling him inch closer to the back of your throat. One of his hands moves down to stroke your hair as he withdraws, his slick cock dragging against your lower lip. You exhale through your nose, catching your breath as you look up at him.

He's breathing heavily, his mouth parted ever so slightly.

"You can take it all," he tells you plainly.

And without another word he's thrust himself back fully into your mouth. So deep that your nose brushes against the wiry hairs at the base of his cock. You feel him hit the back of your throat and it takes everything not to gag or pull back. You have a feeling if you did he'd stop.

But you want to continue. You want to hear what other noises Joel Miller makes when he gets his cock sucked.

Does he do this often? Instruct women like he's done to you this evening? Fuck their mouths? The thought overruns your senses, imagining Joel in the throes of orgasm. Imagining that its you doing it to him. Your tongue swirls on the underside of him and you're rewarded with a shallow gasp.

Joel groans, watching your bob your head along his shaft. His hands are on either side of your jaw, guiding you along his slick member.

"I just know this is makin' you wet," Joel grunts as his hips continue to thrust forward. "Me fucking this sweet mouth of yours."

While you wish you could deny it, he's completely right. You are shocked at how wet you are. You can feel it there, pooling between your legs as you suck him.

His movements increase in tempo, the motions are abrupt and you search for purchase anywhere. Your hands go to the bottom of his t-shirt, gripping it as you urge him to bury himself completely in your mouth.

He growls as he begins to fuck your throat hard, so hard your head jerks back and presses into the wall behind you. He pins your head there and shoves his cock deeper into your throat, giving sharp moans as you whimper and writhe, knowing you can't escape. For a moment all you can feel and see is Joel's cock, slick with your saliva sliding between your lips over and over again. After a few guttural grunts and thrusts his movements slow and he lets his cock simply pulse there, your lips straining to wrap around it.

"Show me those pretty eyes," he murmurs. He doesn't need to ask you twice, you lift your gaze up the length of him, hollowing your cheeks. When your eyes finally meet Joel's you hear a sharp inhale from him.

"You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you look right now," he says, his teeth clenching as you continue to suck him. "F-fuck, those eyes staring up at me.. Your mouth so... So full of my cock... You like it don't you? Having my cock fill your sweet mouth?"

You make a low humming noise of approval. Those words, those filthy, delicious words wrap around your insides. Now your hands are at the base of his cock, stroking him as you swivel your tongue along his shaft.

"So good," he grunts, his hand going to the top of your head. But instead of using it to brace you and push further into your mouth, it just rests there, almost fondly.

It's you who grips the back of his thighs, urging him down your throat. You who moans wantonly not for him but because you're so turned on you can barely function.

You suppose that's what tips him over the edge, your open desire.

Now his movements are erratic and he's fucking into your mouth so harshly you think you might faint. Not from pain but because it feels so fucking good to be used like this. So taboo to have the grouch from next door using your mouth for his pleasure. So fucking heady knowing that he’s going to come because of you.

Your hands fly back to the base of his cock, stroking him as you swivel your tongue along his shaft. He makes a sound that could almost be a whimper if it weren't so low and gravelly. He tilts his chin down, watching you.

"You want my come?" He grunts, pulling your hair back at the nape of your neck, forcing your gaze to his. You nod, your mouth stuffed with him and he makes a noise in the back of his throat as he pulls out from between your lips.

"Say it.” He's visibly shuddering as he takes his cock in his hand and begins stroking.

"I want it," you whimper, your body aflame.

"What do you want?" He asks jerkily, his movements becoming staccato-ed. "You know what I wanna hear."

"Please Joel," you say; drifting forward and licking the reddened head of his straining cock. "I want your come. Please."

He licks his lower lip swiftly.

"Fuck yeah you do," he sighs almost reverently before the fist around his cock increases in speed. "You're gonna take every last drop aren't you?"

Another nod from you and now your tongue is out, flattened and ready for him as you arch. Joel makes a tortured sound in the back of his throat.

"Keep those pretty eyes on me," Joel whispers raggedly. "Don't you dare look away."

Your eyes open just in time to see Joel Miller come undone before you. The face normally contorted into a frown or grimace is replaced by his mouth curved into a disbelieving smile as he looks down at you, his breathing coming out in short little rasps. Then he stills and you watch him spill out over his hand.

Thick ropes of his come erupt over you, landing in warm strips along your cheeks, your lips, your tongue. His hand continues stroking, painting you with him, muttering filth that you can't really hear before he is spent.

Joel's legs tremble a moment, but grow steady as he leans against the wall with his forearm. You go to wipe your face but Joel shakes his head.

"Don't move," Joel demands breathlessly. "I.. I just need to look at you."

You sit there, your face decorated with his seed and your eyes fixed on his face for what feels like forever. He looks at you as if you are art. As if you were designed and molded to be everything he wants.

You want to bathe in the warmth of his eyes forever, but soon his breathing becomes even. He tucks himself back into his boxers and zips up his jeans.

You sit there expectantly, unsure of what to do next. After everything that happened is-

"Get out."

You blink twice as the words sink in. You’re still kneeling there, still staring up at him when Joel pulls back, his gaze hard again. He raises a brow in irritation, a silent question of why are you still here?

Humiliated again by Joel Miller.

You hastily wipe at the cooling seed on your face with the arm of your jacket as you scramble to a stand. Your eyes go to the stairs, thinking of how you'll get back inside your place and you make a motion to go down them. His hand shoots out, holding it in front of you to stop your movement. You notice he doesn’t touch you when he does this.

"You can go the way you came," Joel says without inflection and somehow this option of escape feels like a further sting. He steps back, indicating the hallway window with a tip of his head and you move past him quickly, hot tears pricking the back of your eyes.

You pull open the window with ease, not looking behind you to see if he’s watching. You hope he’s not. You pull yourself over the sill and lower yourself onto the roof. You hate yourself for looking back over your shoulder, hoping he’ll stop you and bring you back inside.

Instead you watch as Joel brings his wide hands to the lip of the window, preparing to shut it the moment he stops speaking.

"Don't ever break into my house again."

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #smut #fanfic #pedro pascal #dad joel miller #fanfiction #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #deaddovedecember2023

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thedirtybeanlife · 7 months

Note

I’m obsessed with your page. The ghosts native speak reader is my fav!! if you are taking requests, could I please request Simon Ghost Riley x Wife!Reader.

Simon and the rest of 141 are at the air port, finically off missions and are on a short leave. The guys are all waiting for their cars and family and as they wait , someone yells “Simon” and they reunite in front of the group??

can reader please be small than ghost? Like he’s 6’4 and she’s 5’4? THANK YOU LOVE YOUR PAGE

(thank you so much!!! i absolutely love this idea! i hope i covered everything you wanted 💕)

Family Reunion

(Simon Riley x Wife!Reader x Platonic!TF141)

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: none! just pure fluff <3

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It had been three months since you had last seen your husband, Simon. Three excruciatingly long months of only the occasional three worded texts or five minute phone calls when he was able to get in contact safely. You knew his job was important, and that it was his passion, but the gnawing ache of loneliness residing deep in your heart grew with each passing day. Was he okay? Would he be home early? Late? Would he even come home at all? Anxiety made your stomach flip with unease everyday for months until you got the text you had been tossing and turning over.

‘Coming home, Love. Pick me up at the airport at 1800 tomorrow? Missed you dearly, gorgeous xx’

Your heart flutters in your chest as you read the text, mind racing as you think of the many ways you could welcome him home. Maybe a nice home cooked meal, or maybe a massage. He did always come home with tense, sore muscles. You smile softly at your phone as the light emitting from it shines across your tired face, the dark room making the light burn your eyes slightly, but you don't care. Texting him back was more important.

‘i'll be there at 4:00 <3 and i missed you more, handsome.’

You hit send and stare at the phone, immediately seeing the small chat bubble popping up above the keyboard. You patiently await his response, biting your lip with a smile, feeling lovesick at just the thought of him returning. You could already see him standing tall above the rest of the passerby in the airport, dark clothes adorning his body, rugged hair, and tired, but giddy, brown eyes.

‘I highly doubt that, Darling. Get some sleep. It’s late. xx’

You laugh and roll your eyes as you read the message. You look at the time on the top corner of your phone and see it is indeed quite late. A little past midnight, to be exact. You type out a reply and hit send.

‘roger that lieutenant 🫡’

‘At ease, Soldier. I love you Baby xx’

‘i love you too Si <3’

You lock your phone and stand up, shut off the lights in the house and lock the front and back doors. Walking upstairs to Simon and your’s shared bedroom, you yawn tiredly, glad that Simon had reminded you of sleep being a necessity. Your fingers switch the light off in the room and you plop onto the large king sized bed. Upon plugging your phone in, it buzzes and you see another message from him.

‘Sleep well, Love.’

You use the love reaction to respond to his message before closing your phone once more for the night, laying down comfortably on Simon’s side of the bed and snuggling up under the thick comforter. Within minutes your sleeping like a baby, snoring softly with limbs sprawled across the bed. You sleep peacefully knowing that Simon is safe and will be in your arms incredibly soon.

The loud sound of your alarm buzzing wakes you in the morning at eight, the sun casting a bright light over the bed room causing you to groan and roll over to hide your face as you blindly reach out to turn off the alarm, wanting nothing more than to fall back asleep. Until you realize why you were waking up so early in the first place.

“Simon..” you mutter with a tired smile as the image of your husband floods your mind. You dart up and take a long, hot shower, shaving and thoroughly washing every part of your body. Practically waltzing into the bedroom, you stand in front of your closet and look through your options before your eyes land on Simon’s favorite dress. It was something he had bought you a few years ago when he took you shopping. The dress was white with small baby blue flowers sprinkled all over it. it was rather short, falling at the middle of your thighs, the neckline plunging ever so slightly to show off the smallest amount of cleavage. He had spotted it in the window of a store you had passed one day while shopping and he immediately dragged you in so you could try it on.

After putting the dress on, you do your hair and put on a light layer of makeup, nothing too fancy. You add some jewelry and put on a pair of sandals to complete the look. With a smile as you look at yourself in the mirror, you walk downstairs and look around the house, giving it a once over to make sure it feels warm and welcoming for his return. Nodding in approval, you put a few wax melts that Simon likes in the various wax melters in the house and turn them on. Once that's done you look at the time and see you still have a few hours until you need to leave, so you decide to bake him some of his favorite dessert as a welcome home present; lemon rolls. You had made them one day after discovering the recipe, and he had become infatuated with them. He had eaten three of them in one sitting.

Quickly getting to work, you manage to put them together in record time, throwing them into the oven and waiting the thirty minutes for them to cook. You pull them out and let them rest on the counter. With only about twenty minutes left until you have to leave, you turn off all the lights and grab your keys, wallet, and the cute bag that matches your dress, rushing out the door from excitement. Upon entering the car, as if Simon somehow knew, you get a text from him.

‘Boarding the plane now, Lovely. See you soon xx’

‘see you soon Si <3’

You reply and then start the car, pulling out of the drive way and starting the drive to the airport he'll be landing at with the rest of his team. It had been quite some time since you've seen the rest of the team. Music plays on the radio as you drive down the highway as you enjoy the sights of the Autumn leaves and colors. Thankfully it wasn't rainy today as the drive to the airport was quite long and to get to the highway required driving on a lot of slick backroads. Simon had chosen a house deep in the woods, yet not too far from civilization. He said it was for protection, but you knew he just liked the wilderness more than people. You didn't mind, it tended to be quite peaceful.

At roughly three o'clock, you pull into the airport’s parking garage, driving around to find a parking spot. Once you find one, you shut off the car and walk towards the entrance of the large building, making your way to the gate where he would be arriving from alongside Johnny, Gaz, and John. The loud chatter and rolling of suitcases fills your ears as you walk through the large building. You finally get to the gate and check the time, seeing that his plane will be landing in ten minutes. That familiar giddy feeling fills your heart and stomach as you sit in one of the chairs, bouncing your leg slightly as you struggle to contain your excitement. The minutes tick by slowly, almost feeling slower than the past three months.

Suddenly the sound of people walking out of the gate flood your ears, and shortly after you hear the loud laugh of Johnny, followed by a deep chuckle of Simon. You hop up out of the chair and weave through the crowd of people, muttering ‘excuse me’ every few seconds before you barrel towards the tall man.

“Simon!” you squeal excitedly, jumping into his arms the second he notices you, his strong arms wrapping around your much smaller body tightly as he lets out a small grunt from the sudden weight, stepping back some to keep his balance. You wrap your legs around his waist, your arms wrapping around his neck as you bury your face into it. His calloused thumbs rub circles into your bare thighs. Johnny and Gaz laugh as John stands behind them and smiles warmly at the sight.

“Oh, Love, how I’ve missed you…” he mutters as he places a soft kiss to the crown of your head, holding you close as you nuzzle into him.

“Missed you too, Si,” you mutter against his warm skin, smiling happily.

“Where’s my hug, lass?” Johnny asks playfully.

“Up your ass, Johnny.” you laugh and hop off Ghost, placing a kiss to his lips before walking over to Johnny and pulling him into a hug.

“It’s been to long, Y/N,” he says as you hug him tightly.

“It truly has. You’ll have to come by and have dinner with us before you leave,” you offer with a warm smile as you pull away, moving to hug Gaz and fix his cap on his head, “That goes for all three of you,”

Simon huffs out a small laugh at your offer as you wrap John in a hug as well before pulling away and practically prancing back to Simon, hanging onto his side. He instinctively wraps his arm around you protectively and lovingly.

“If that's what you want, Sweetheart. I guess I can deal with these lot for a few more hours,” he smiles softly down at you, knowing you thought of his teammates just as much as family as he did.

You smile up at him appreciatively as you keep your arms wrapped around his torso, savoring his warmth and the faint smell of gun powder and cigarette smoke; the small hint of cologne he always wore.

“That sounds lovely, Dear,” Price says respectfully, nodding with his usual smile that makes his eyes crinkle.

“I’d love some dinner, especially if it's made by you,” Kyle says playfully as he looks between you and Simon.

“It’s settled then. Why don't you guys grab your things and we can all carpool back, and no, Johnny, you do not get to play the music,” you laugh out jokingly.

Soap gives you a fake offended look and flicks you playfully on the shoulder as he walks by, carrying his duffle bag in his hand. Simon chuckles and flicks Johnny in retaliation for you, making him grumble under his breath as he walks off towards the doors, the rest of us following behind him laughing at his behavior. The walk to the parking garage is full of lighthearted jokes and conversations, you and Simon mainly listening as we walk a few paces behind the other three, hands swinging between your bodies. Occasionally, you’ll both glance at each other with a loving gaze, just happy to be able to hold each other again.

About an hour later, you pull into the drive way of the cute, quaint wooden house that you and Simon reside in. The fall colors and rainy weather make it look even prettier than it usually is. The five of you pile out of the car and walk down the short pebble driveway until you reach the front door. Simon unlocks it and holds the door open for you, walking in behind you, the other three following right after. The smell of amber and linen spreads across the house from the wax you had put on the warmers earlier. Everyone takes their wet shoes off and places them semi-neatly next to the door. Price hangs his hat on the hook by the door, Gaz sticking his in his back pocket, the brim poking out.

“Make yourselves at home. I bought some bourbon the other day you guys are more than welcome to break open. I’ll get to work on dinner. Relax. You guys deserve it,” you say sweetly, placing a kiss to Simon’s lips before walking into the kitchen.

You look at the lemon rolls on the counter, covering them completely with the towel so it doesn't give away the surprise, and gather everything i need for dinner. You decide on making a roast, green beans, mashed potatoes, dinner rolls, and brown gravy. You hum quietly to yourself as you start to prep everything. The roast had already been seasoned from the night before, marinating in the spices, dough for the rolls already sitting in the fridge as well.

As you're washing the potatoes, large, strong arms wrap around your waist and soft kisses are planted along your jaw, “Need any help, Love?” Simon asks quietly, his thumbs absentmindedly stroking along the fabric of your dress as he rests his chin on your head, “Ya look lovely, by the way. Wear this just for me?” he teases with a grin that you can feel as his lips are pressed against your skin.

You sigh softly and contently in his grip, eyes closing for a few moments as your hands rest on the cutting board, vegetable peeler and potato long forgotten as his body heat and touch floods you senses.

“I got it, Honey. You just go in there and relax. Keep our guests entertained, and of course I wore it just for you. Figured you'd appreciate it,” you giggle softly as you lean your head back against his broad shoulder to look up at him.

“Well, you were definitely right about that,” he says with a small laugh before leaning down and placing a kiss to your lips and then the tip of your nose, “I love you, Y/N. So much,” he mutters as he stares into your eyes adoringly.

“I love you too, Simon,” you say softly and place a kiss to his jaw, “Now shoo! I have five people to feed,” you playfully wave him away making him laugh and place one last kiss to your lips before he leaves the kitchen to go sit with the rest of the guys in the living room.

A few hours later, dinner is eaten, lemon rolls half gone, and the kitchen is a mess, something you two would deal with in the morning. You give all of the guys leftovers in containers that will last them a few days, knowing they probably wouldn't get another home cooked meal for a while. You and Simon walk them to the door where an Uber is waiting to take them to the nearby hotel they'll be staying at until seperate flights to their respective homes fly out tomorrow.

“It was lovely seeing you again, Captain,” you say as you hug John and hand him his hat.

“You too, Love. Simon surely hit the jackpot with you, Kiddo,” the older man laughs and gratefully accepts his hat as you hand it to him.

“Call me sometime, yeah? You still need to tell me about your feelings on that movie I made you watch,” you laugh out towards Gaz as you hug him next.

“For sure, Y/N. It’ll be one of the first things I do when I get back home,” he smiles and nods as he ruffles your hair some, much like an annoying brother would do.

“Bring it in, Lassie!” Soap grins and laughs as he pulls me into a tight hug, picking me off the ground some making me laugh and hug him back, “Oh, I’m gonna miss ye, Sweetheart. No fair that the Lt. gets to keep ya to himself,” Johnny jokes as he puts me down and let's go. You can hear Simon groan in annoyance quietly behind you.

“I’ll miss you too Johnny. Don't be a stranger, yeah? My phones always on,” you say softly as you move to stand next to Simon again, leaning against him as they all say bye to him before getting into the Uber. You both watch as it drives off before walking into the warm house, a stark contrast to the cold and rainy night air.

“That was nice. Haven't seen them in nearly a year,” you say as you turn off the front porch light and lock the front door.

“Feels like I haven't seen you for a year, Love. C'mere,” Simon says warmly and holds his arms open. You walk over to him and hug him tightly as he lifts you off the ground, a small giggle leaving your lips as he haoists you up and makes you wrap your legs around him, just like he did earlier at the airport, “Missed you too much to bear,” he mumbles into your hair before placing a kiss to your forehead.

“Missed you too. So much, Si. Just glad you're here, home and safe,” you whisper lovingly as you nuzzle into him.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?” he asks softly, stroking your hair with one of his hands as he starts walking through the living room to the staircase. You hum in agreement and tighten your grip slightly around his neck as he walks up the stairs, still holding you in his arms.

He pushes open the door and turns on the bedroom light, walking over to the bed, and gently placing you down, “Let’s get you out of this and get you into something a bit more comfortable, Dove.” he says and slowly trails his large calloused fingers up your exposed legs, grabbing the hem of the dress and pulling it over your hips as you lift them slightly to help him. He pulls it up and over your head, leaning down to place a kiss to your shoulder before throwing the dress in the hamper and grabbing one of his hoodies out of the dresser. He walks back over and slides the large navy blue fabric over your head, helping you pull your arms through before bending down to take off your sandals. Wordlessly, he walks into the bathroom, emerging a few seconds later with a few cotton rounds and your micellar water. Simon’s rough fingers wet the cotton round and softly rub it onto your skin, wiping off the light layer of makeup on your face.

Instinctively, your eyes flutter closed as he brings the cotton round up to wipe off your mascara, his touch so soft you barely feel it, “ There’s my pretty girl,” he whispers as he removes all of your makeup and gently caresses your face with his thumb, “Gorgeous,” he praises, making you smile softly up at him.

“Lay down and get comfortable, Love. I’ll just be a moment. Want to get out of these clothes,” you nod at his gentle command and get under the comforter on your side of the bed, laying down and getting comfortable. You watch him change out of his jeans and long sleeve shirt, his toned torso and arms littered in white and light pink scars, an occasional bruise on his pale skin.

“Anything need to be looked at or cleaned?” you ask softly as you inspect his body from the bed.

“I’m alright, Babygirl. Nothing but bruises this time ‘round,” he reassures you as he pulls on a pair of black sweatpants and turns off the light, walking over to the bed and laying next to you. His large arms pull your body flush agaisnt his, placing a kiss to your ear.

“Been thinkin’ about doin’ this since the day I left,” he mumbles tiredly in your ear, taking a deep breath as he relaxes fully for the first time in months.

“Me too,” you say softly and nuzzle your head into his chest, placing a kiss to one of his older, larger scars, “Get some sleep, Si. You need it,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around him.

He hums in response and in just a few minutes he's snoring softly in your ear, something you had always found a bit bothersome, but in this moment, it was all you had wanted. Shortly after, your eyes flutter closed, and your lulled to sleep by his slow breathing and the comfort of his heart beating in your ear.

#xreader #fanfiction #call of duty mw2 #call of duty #fanfic #mw2022 #oneshot #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 #john price #kyle garrick #john soap mactavish

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jaywonjuice · 7 months

Text

📄🖇️— him meeting your family ~ p.js

pairing bf!jay x gn reader

genre fluff, oneshot

request: “hii! i was wondering if i could request a drabble/scenario for jay pls? :) i’m a sucker for fluff so maybe something like taking him to meet your family for the first time at a family reunion? and then he’s getting along so well with the baby cousins and the family loves him :’) i’m in my jay era rn and this scenario would make my whole week! no rush tho!! i love your works so far btw, and i can’t wait to follow you on this journey of growing your library! <3 xx”

warnings sfw intimacy, kissing

wc 655

‘aren’t i the one who’s supposed to be feeling nervous about this?’ said jay with a wry smile, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead. you glanced over at him, taking in his calm expression and marvelling at his ability to remain so composed given the circumstances. you, on the other hand, couldn’t help yourself from fidgeting restlessly in the passenger seat. jay placed a hand on your knee gently to still it.

‘love, it’s going to be fine, i promise,’ he shot you a reassuring smile, which you attempted to return weakly. ‘mums always love me anyway,’ he added with a wink, hoping to get you to laugh, but right now you were too preoccupied to play along.

‘yeah, it’s just…’ you chewed at your thumbnail, staring out the window. ‘i don’t know. i’ve never brought a boyfriend back home before. like, ever. and the whole family is going to be there.’ you sighed, slumping against the headrest.

jay smiled. ‘try not to worry. i promise it’s going to be fine. i for one am looking forward to meeting your folks.’ he reached for your hand and gave it a small squeeze.

.❦.

once you arrived at your parents’ place, you weren’t even sure what you had been worrying about the whole time. as expected, jay had been a gentleman from the moment he stepped through the door, shaking your father’s hand, and greeting your mother politely before passing her the bottle of wine he’d brought up with him. he had charmed every last one of your aunts, who looked on impressed as he helped to lay the table and plate up lunch. your teenage cousins had giggled and whispered to each other behind their hands, eyes darting over at him all throughout the meal.

after he’d finished helping clear up all the dishes, he finally came to join you in the family room. it took all of thirty seconds for him to spot the cabinet of baby pictures and trinkets that sat on the mantelpiece, and he approached eagerly to watch you grow up through photographs.

‘this one was when we visited the states - lord, going on twelve years ago now,’ your dad passed a small wooden picture frame over to jay. ‘wasn’t (s)he cute, eh?’

jay nodded, smiling. ‘very,’

later in the evening, you’d watched from the sofa as he sat on the rug with your little cousin, who was enthusiastically presenting jay with all of her new toys. he received each one with interest, his face animated, eyes widening and giving little gasps as she explained them all to him in great detail. the way he smiled sweetly down at her made your heart ache just a little. when she had finally shown jay every last little stuffed animal, she turned to him, all of a sudden looking very serious.

‘are you and y/n in love??’ she demanded abruptly.

jay gave a little laugh, tousling her hair affectionately. then he looked up at you, softly. ‘yeah. we are,’ he replied.

.❦.

it felt oddly comforting to be back in your childhood bedroom again with jay by your side, the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling providing a small fluorescent glow in the otherwise complete darkness. you rested your head again his chest and sighed deeply. the long day of travelling and socialising had taken it out of you both completely; you were exhausted.

‘your family are nice,’ jay mumbled after a while.

‘yeah,’ you said quietly. ‘they think you’re nice,’ you added. ‘i think you’re nice,’ you told him on top of that, wrapping your arms around his waist snugly and hugging him to you.

‘is that so?’ you could hear the smile in his voice.

‘yeah,’ you nuzzled into his chest. ‘the nicest.’

.❦.

the following morning, the two of you stood by the front door saying your goodbyes to your parents. as jay hugged your mother farewell, your dad gave you a kiss on the cheek, before nodding over at jay. ‘he’s a keeper, this one,’ he winked.

jay held your hand all the way from the door to the car, where he opened up the passenger side for you, but before you could get in, he pulled you close to him suddenly, catching you so off guard that you blushed furiously.

‘i love you,’ he said quietly, his nose brushing your own. you moved to say it back, but his lips were pressed to yours before you’d even got the chance.

a/n literally what a dream request ty anon !! i could go on abt domestic jay all day every day forever until my lungs give out he’s so husband bye ㅠㅠ

TAGLIST ೃ⁀➷ @thejakeslayla @shawnyle

©jaywonjuice | do not copy or re-upload my work on any platform

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archive-of-alexandria · 7 months

Text

Mind Your Manners (Sanji X Reader)

A/N: ITS KINKTOBER! I have it in my head that head-over-heels, perverted Sanji would absolutely give the Reader snacks or food that are just a little bit too messy as an excuse to watch them clean up after themself and I just had to write it out. Kinda feels yandere? Smutty Food Play, because I haven't seen enough kinky Sanji action on here. xx

Sanji knows better than to play with his food. However, the way you're sitting at the dining table - pretty legs tucked up underneath you and breasts pressed together as you lean on your elbows - makes him think that he may have to make an exception.

Sanji's rule about manners doesn't extend to you, however.

No.

Sanji goes out of his way to ensure that you'll make a mess in his kitchen.

Back during the summer months, the Going Merry had made a pitstop at an island known for their enormous strawberries. Sanji had been eager to try his hand at pastries for a change - tarts, pies, the works - and the gargantuan summertime fruits seemed the perfect challenge.

A challenge the cook didn't anticipate, however, was finding you elbow-deep in the barrel of harvested berries that same evening, caught literally red-handed from the saccharine juices that dripped from your fingertips to the floor with a heavy tap tap tap.

The sight was enough to make his heart nearly stop.

Your eyes had been wide and your flushed cheeks were even wider, stuffed with sweet fruit as juice covered your face and hands...and every bit of you was dripping. Sanji had been unsure of where to look and his eyes darted between your slick fingers, your shy expression, and your perfectly tinted, glossy lips. He had never seen a more heavenly sight.

In his mind, nothing could ever compare...until your tongue ran along the back of your hand in a feeble attempt to clean yourself.

In the darkness of his room, Sanji thought about that tease of a tongue for weeks afterward.

Ever since then, he has taken extra care to make sure that you're given the messiest meals he can make. They're not gross, of course - Sanji is a chef first and a lover second. No, they're not gross. They are delectable. Every hum of enjoyment, every slurp, every squish...Sanji would lie awake in bed and dream of the different foods he wished to cover you in, if only just to watch you lick it up.

You had offered to help him make cinnamon buns one morning - though not without taking a generous helping of frosting on your finger and sucking it clean. "Labor tax", you joked with a wink. The image of your tongue licking the sinful-looking sweetness from your finger, mingled with your contented sigh, was seared into Sanji's brain from that moment forward.

Sanji became obsessed with watching you eat.

Food has always been an extension of Sanji's love for his crew and an expression of devotion. The act of cooking is artistic, and the act of eating is intimate. Hell, the kitchen itself is a lesson in foreplay: the preparation, the getting hands dirty, the building heat, the waiting game...all leading to a very satisfying end.

If only Sanji's cooking prowess had an excuse to leave the kitchen and move into the bedroom.

Sanji has yet to make his cake and eat it too in the ways of romance, though it would seem that you have recently taken a keen interest in his particular set of skills. The cook has noticed an increasing frequency of your kitchen visits, observing the way your eyes seem to latch to his hands and arms as he works. You've grown bolder, assisting him in his preparations and letting your elbows brush up against one another.

Sanji relishes the days you ask for his help and he nestles you between his body and the table, guiding your hands in his much larger ones.

The cook has grown bolder too, sometimes pressing too tightly against your back to allow his front to press up against your firm bottom as he huskily mumbles praises in your ear. He swears, sometimes, he can feel you lean into him.

The kitchen is the way to Sanji's heart, and he hopes that it may be the way into your bed.

And here you were, seated at his table awaiting the meal he had promised to cook for you once the Going Merry restocked at port.

As Sanji wipes down his cooking station, he lets his eyes drink you in without shame. Your breasts are practically falling from your tattered blouse, soft pillows highlighted by the dim candlelight of the galley. You're playing with your fingers, unaware of Sanji's gaze. He smirks.

"Sanji," You sigh, flushing pink as you look up to meet his gaze already set upon you,

"Is it almost ready?"

He chuckles, crossing his arms.

"My sweet girl is hungry, hm?" He muses, tossing his dishrag over his shoulder,

"Just a few more minutes, love."

"Wha-? But-!"

"You can't rush perfection now, can you?"

"Sanji," You whine, wiggling in your seat. His eyes once again meet your chest.

"If I had known it was going to take this long I would have taken up Zoro's offer to go to the pub."

Sanji stiffens.

The chef stands to his full height, a cigarette appearing between his tight-pressed lips as he turns from you to check on the pot simmering on the stove.

You, however, hold your ground.

It's silent.

"I didn't know you and mosshead had plans."

Sanji's voice is low. Much too low, and empty. It unsettles you.

"San-"

"-It's ready."

In a manner much too abrupt for the usually smitten Sanji, a steaming bowl is placed before you with an alarming thud. The spoon rattles in reaction to his aggressive delivery.

The enticing smell of the ramen can't mask the uneasy way Sanji stands perfectly still in front of you, face shrouded in shadow except for the blazing butt of his cigarette.

You're unsure of where to look, splitting your attention between the meal before you and the man hovering above the table. Sanji makes the decision for you.

"You were so hungry just a moment ago," he quips,

"So eat up."

You swallow, heat pooling in your cheeks and between your legs. This was nothing but the "Zoro effect" on Sanji, as you and Nami call it. Gingerly, you take hold of the spoon. Peering into the bowl, the meal looks heavenly - though you're soon aware of the way your hair keeps falling into your eyes, threatening to become part of the soup.

Your hair had grown long during the months at sea, and you had unwillingly lent Usopp your last bauble for slingshot practice. Your frustration doesn't go unnoticed.

“Here, my darling,” Sanji hummed, circling the table until he was behind you, “Let me help.”

At this moment, Sanji feels dangerous.

Your body erupts with heat as the cook looms behind you, your eyes glued to the steaming bowl of soup displayed before you. The galley feels all too warm, and the meal before you begins to feel more like a test - a challenge - rather than a token of whatever unspoken feelings float between you and Sanji.

Without another word, Sanji’s cold fingers glide along your feverish neck, scooping up your hair in their wake. He gives his wrist a well-practiced twist, eliciting a gasp from your lips at the feeling of your hair pulled taught in his grasp. Sanji feels his ego swell, giving your hair a sharp tug. Your head is thrown back as he lowers himself to your ear.

"Go on," His scruff grazes you, and your skin is suddenly on fire.

"Eat."

Heat floods through Sanji as he watches the way your neck moves as you swallow, nodding at his command. He eases up on his grip and observes the timid way you scoop the broth into your mouth.

He catches the way your eyelids flutter closed at the taste of his meal. You liked it. You always liked his food.

Tonight, simply liking wasn't enough.

"Eating so silently? Don't you know it's rude to the chef?"

Sanji's eyes darken as your fingers twitch on the tabletop. So, he muses to himself, you think you would get away that easily?

"Don't you like it?"

"S-Sanji-"

"Don't use your words, pet. Just enjoy."

From above, he watches as the plush peaks of your breasts begin to heave quicker. You allow yourself to fully dive into the meal, this time taking noodles and broth quickly between your lips. For a moment, you seem to forget that Sanji is there. You hum, in something akin to ecstasy - Sanji had made this meal just for you, just the way you liked it.

The obscenely wet squelches of your lips slurping up his creation elicit a deep groan from the chef, fingers tightening their grip on your hair. He can't help but chuckle at the idea of Zoro sitting alone in some corner booth and nursing a drink, all while you're here sucking up and savoring Sanji's affection.

You lift your head, lips puffy from the spice and heat of the meal. Sanji presses himself into your back, as his free thumb comes around and wipes your bottom lip. Your gazes meet, and Sanji brings his thumb to his mouth - tasting remnants of your meal.

A low chuckle escapes his lips.

"What, my love? Finished already?"

You understand his insinuation, whipping your head back to your meal and bringing the ladle back to your mouth.

Eat it all up, love. Made just for you.

In a moment of weakness, Sanji gently pushes your head down.

You gag on the spoon.

Sanji moans.

His hips buck forward, desperate for friction, meeting the soft dip of your arched back. His throbbing cock digs into your back, your buttocks...Unable to compose himself, Sanji begins to rut himself against you – and you don’t protest.

Sanji knows how fowl this display looks, and yet he can’t help himself. He has wanted you - really wanted you - for so long...the idea that Zoro could possibly take you away from him was enough to drive him over the edge.

When Sanji hears your voice rumble from your chest - "nnnugh-! Sanji...!" - he swears by the heavens that he'll do anything to make you his.

His hand moves from your hair and wraps around your throat, slick with the broth that dribbles from your lips. He wishes to lick every part of your sticky, salty skin, gently squeezing your throat as you gasp out his name.

Your head lolls onto his shoulder, hand gripping the table as it shakes under the weight of Sanji's wild bucking.

Sanji is everywhere, mumbling streams of thought between hot kisses along your forehead:

"I fucking love you, you know that? Would Zoro treat you so well?"

"That pretty mouth, always teasing me - you think that's fair?"

"Just wanna fill you up with all of me, darling...Want those gorgeous lips around my cock..."

For all his talk, he fumbles and lurches forward. His hand unceremoniously lands in the bowl, soaking him up to the cuff in warm broth. You're both breathing heavily, the high beginning to wind down. However, you see your moment to gain leverage.

You grab hold of his wrist before he can think, turning your face ever so slightly to meet his.

With a twinkle in your eye, you guide his hand to your lips. Sanji's mind is a fluffy haze, unable to anticipate your next move.

"We don't waste food, right?" You purr.

You take Sanji's fingers into your velvety mouth and he practically sees stars. He has been dreaming of this exact pleasure for months, straining to keep from collapsing on top of you as your tongue swirls between his fingers.

As your cheeks hollow out around his digits, your hooded gaze keeps his in a near mocking way.

So, you had known his game all along.

Sanji's chest heaves against your back, his hot breath fanning across your face with a stutter. His inexperience shows in this moment, numb and capable of doing nothing but watching the expert way your mouth moves around his fingers.

A faint pop of your cheeks accompanies the release, a ghostly string of spit connecting his fingers to your lips. The faint moonlight catches hold of his soaked digits. Sanji inhales sharply.

His hand, frozen in your hold, is easily guided down...

down...

"I've already had my meal," you murmur.

A shiver.

His eager fingers meet your soaking, pulsing warmth.

"It's time you eat yours."

#sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #opla sanji #YES CHEF #Sanji is something so personal #absolute brainrot #sanji imagine #yandere sanji #this is GROSS ahaha #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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imaginesandsmut · 9 months

Text

Jealous - Kate Bishop

Pairing: Kate Bishop x fem reader

Summary: After a movie night at your place, Kate gets jealous of how friendly and close one of your friends’ is to you. She gets jealous and decides to show you that you belong to her

Warnings: straight up porn with a sprinkle of a plot

Writers note: This was a request and I love lesbian recs so keep them coming. I will do a part 2 to So Good (my Ethan Landry fic) so dw, it's coming. Thank you ya'll xx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I turn my cheer music up

And I'm puffing my chest

I'm getting red in the face

You can call me obsessed

It's not your fault that they hover

I mean no disrespect

It's my right to be hellish

I still get jealous

Jealous - Nick Jonas

Kate hated you sometimes.

You were so happy and light, everyone wanted to be around you. Kate couldn’t blame them, her girl was the kindest social butterfly anyone has ever seen.

But that means Kate had competition to fight off.

She has been watching you talk to your university friend, Ben, for almost an hour now. It was movie night at your place: You, Kate, Ben and three of your other friends had watched the whole Twilight series.

It was now 11pm and and everyone had gone home, but Ben decided to have another conversation with you at the front door. Kate had been watching you both from the couch, waiting for you to say goodbye and slam the door on his face, but you kept laughing.

Kate felt anger bubble in her chest, there was a part of her that wanted to slam Ben’s head into the doorframe if he didn’t leave in the next five minutes.

“No but seriously!” You laughed, leaning against the open door that you had opened for Ben almost thirty minutes ago. “I swear that professor is out to get me.”

“I’m sure he isn’t.” Ben chucked, his eyes hopeful.

But he could feel Kate's presence, her narrow eyes trained on him as her arms were crossed over her heavy breathing chest. Ben’s eyes darted to where Kate sat then back to you, his nerves growing by the second.

“You’re too nice,” You were ever the oblivious. “but he most definitely is.”

“No one can hate you.”

That made something snap in Kate, it was as if Ben said the worst words possible in that situation.

Who even was he? Why did he have that look in his eyes? Did you want him to look at you this way?

Kate's mind was racing as she pushed herself off from the couch and walked to the front door, standing behind you, her body pressing into your back.

“Thank you so much, Ben.” Kate forced a smile onto her face, it came out menacing and Ben felt small. “We hope you have a good night.”

“Oh.” Ben’s eyes were filled with fear and remorse, he looked at you for some sort of rebuttal.

You side-eyed Kate, confused at her hostility towards your friend but you didn’t want to fight it. You knew Kate, you knew that the black haired girl would only make things worse if you didn’t console her.

“See ya, Ben.” You smiled and let the boy walk out the door, waving happily. “Have a safe drive home.”

Ben smiled meekly. The image of you waving warmly and with a beaming smile on your face, and then Kate's taller figure looming over your shoulder, a dark look on her face as the boy walked to his car scared him.

You closed the door and turned to Kate quickly, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking your head to the side.

“Okay, what was that?”

"What?” Kate said as sarcastically as she could. “Did I interrupt something?”

Kate walked to the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. You followed her, trailing after the hostile girl.

“Are you ok? What happened?” You asked, your voice full of concern.

"What do you mean? Nothing happened. You can leave and get back to talking with your best friend Ben if you want" Kate spat over her shoulder, her body facing the sink and away from you.

You pulled a sour face at her comment, "What's that supposed to mean?"

“Seemed like you were having a good time with him, sorry I ruined it.” Kate turned round to face you, the kitchen sink pressed against her back.

"Excuse me? Why are you angry at me for talking to my friend in my own house?” You huffed back.

"I’m not angry."

"Then why are you upset?"

"I'm not upset!" Kate shouted. She had never shouted at you like this before; she has ignored or rebuffed you if she's angry, but never yelled.

You watched her, the way Kate's chest rose and fell quickly, the red hue across her cheeks, and the way that she avoided all eye contact.

"You’re not jealous are you?" You hid your smile.

Kate looked up at you, she pulled a questioning face, almost as if she was offended by what you said.

"No, I'm not jealous” Her eyes were sharp and steady, you tried to stay strong under the gaze.

"You’re jealous, why?" You said bluntly, forcing an answer out of her.

“Fucking hell,” Kate was getting nervous under the pressure, “just drop it, okay?”

“No, I don’t wanna drop it.”

“Seriously, Y/N.” The archer threw her head back, looking up at the ceiling. “Leave it.”

“I’m not doing that.” Your foot tapped on the tiles in your kitchen, irritating Kate even more. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

Kate sighed, moving to stand closer to her. She dropped her arms from being across her chest to staying by her side, opening up her posture.

“I’m not stupid Y/N, and neither is he." Kate let out, letting go of the breath in her chest. "He likes you and obviously thinks you like him too. And maybe you do.”

“Ben doesn’t like me.” You looked at Kate with full sincerity, like you genuinely believed your words.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Kate could almost laugh at how blind you were.

You didn’t know what Kate was talking about, your friendship with Ben is nothing more than that, a friendship. Kate's annoyance at it, after only witnessing it for one night, was annoying too. You just wanted her to get along with your friends, but now she was picking fights.

“I just,” Kate brought her hands up to rub her face, “I don't like the way he looks at you. He’s got this look in his eye, and it pisses me off.”

“Why?”

“Cause I don’t want anyone looking at you like that.”

“Like what?” You had a feeling that you knew already, but you wanted to hear it come from Kate.

“The way that I look at you.” Kate said it through gritted teeth, as if it pained her to be vulnerable. “Like he wants you in the same way I want you.”

It was music to your ears, the exact words you wanted to hear. Seeing the archer stand in front of you with a desperate look in her eyes, it did something to you.

You stepped forward and put Kate's hands on your hips, putting your own hands on her shoulders.

“And how do you want me?”

You inwardly cringed at your choice in words but Kate seemed to like it, her eyes going dark and mouth falling open as she dumbly took in the change in atmosphere. The girl slowly nodded her head before attaching her lips to your neck, her hands tightening around your waist.

Kate's breath got heavier the longer she sucked and bit your neck, you threaded your fingers into Kate's dark locks and tugged.

“I want you on the couch.”

You could have came at Kate's voice, how low and raspy it was. Her strong hands began pushing you towards the couch, her lips ghosting over yours but not letting you close the gap, pulling back and chuckling every time you tried to lean up and press your lips together.

Your legs hit the back of the couch and you fell onto the soft fabric, a sound of surprise leaving your mouth. You took a moment to see Kate's body standing over you, how weak you looked and felt in comparison to the superhero in front of you.

Kate reached out and held your jaw, forcing you to look up at her face.

“So pretty.”

You groaned softly at the compliment, your eyebrows drawing together as the sudden urge to have Kate's body on yours took over you. Although Kate had every physical advantage over you, being so strong and lean, she was always gentle and careful with how she held you.

“My pretty girl,” Kate laughed softly at your face before kneeling in front of you, “I’ll make you feel good, yeah?”

Kate's calloused hands dragged up and down your bare thighs, stopping when she reached the hem of your shorts and then dragging back down again.

“Are you going to do somethin-“

Kate cuts you off, closing the distance between your lips. You kissed her back, loving the way she melts and goes slack against you. Kate's lips are soft and sweet, tasting just like the sweets you both had eaten during the night. She breaks away and goes to kissing your neck and further down.

You started bucking your hips when Kate kissed the top of your thighs, begging for more contact. Kate's fingers curled around the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down along with your underwear.

“Kate.” You moaned it out into the silent air around you, your head thrown back to rest on the back of the couch.

“Mhm?” Kate touched her lips lightly to your inner thigh, nipping the skin then pressing soft kisses over the hurt skin.

Your hands covered your face, trying to calm your erratic breathing as your lust was taking over your body.

“You're so wet," Kate whispers with a shiver, her brain fogging with thick desire. "You look amazing, bet you taste even better."

She presses another kiss on your thigh, higher now, her face now buried between your legs. Kate clasps her arms around your legs, pulling them to rest on her shoulders. Her hands feel their way up underneath your shirt, groping your boobs and pinching your nipples. Kate's mouth devours your pussy, sucking and licking with a newfound fever.

Your fingers clench around Kate's dark hair, pulling it tightly, and Kate groans.

Fuck, how can giving someone else pleasure make her feel so good.

Kate uses a free hand to grab a pillow from the couch and places it between her legs, grinding down on the plush as she wraps her lips around your clit. The feeling of her own pussy grinding on the pillow whilst she ate you out made her moan uncontrollably, the vibrations almost sending you over the edge.

You moaned and began grinding yourself onto Kate's face, pulling on the black strands of hair to try and drag Kate's face closer to you.

"I like that," Kate says in a ragged breath. "Do it again. Harder.”

You looked down and cocked your eyebrow, lips parted to try and get as much air into your lungs, but you don't move. So Kate digs her fingers deeper into your thighs, face lifted towards you, lips parted and covered in your slick.

"Do it again," she whispers. "Please."

The plea is soft and quiet, it makes Kate feel ridiculous, it makes her feel desperate. You stopped breathing for a brief moment. Watching Kate be so sweet, a stark contrast between this Kate and the girl that hated was just yelling and being rude almost gave you whiplash.

“Apologise.”

You had never been one to be dominant or demanding, but the look of Kate begging in between your legs drew something out of you. Even Kate looked confused, her eyebrows knitting together. She was normally the one to demand things from you.

“Apologise for being mean to me.” Your eyes were dark, a sight Kate had never seen before but needed more of. “Beg for my forgiveness.”

Kate didn’t do anything at first, although she desperately wanted to continue her actions on you and for you to keep pulling her hair, she couldn’t give into you so easily.

But god she wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” the words were soft and sultry, “I’m sorry, baby. Please. Please keep pulling my hair. I’m so sorry for being mean.”

As Kate whispered the words, her hands kept rubbing your thighs, her lips ghosting over the skin as she spoke the slutty words.

It was enough for you, you smiled and almost felt bad for how needy Kate looked. Your fingers grasp a fistful of Kate's hair and you tugged it, drawing Kate's head backward. The archer couldn't help the long, deep moan she lets out.

"Fuck.” Kate pants, because it's all too hot and she feels like she's suffocating, but still she needed more.

Kate's slim fingers stroke your clit, pushing two fingers inside you and making you cry out.

"I want to be yours.” She whispers, thrusting her fingers in and out. You whimpered as Kate scissored them inside you, back arching off the couch

“You are mine.” You gasped as Kate added another finger, speeding up her thrusting. Her digits brush up against that one spot inside you and you arch your back, crying out loudly as the band inside you snapped. You moan through your orgasm, tears slipping from your eyes.

"So messy for me.” Kate moans, bringing her fingers into her mouth and sucking your juices off them.

Kate stands up and pushes you to rest on the couch, coming to hover over your body. Your chests connect and Kate's fingers go back to your clit, circling and trying to draw out another orgasm from you.

You whimper at the overstimulation, but still you draw Kate in and kiss her, mouths open and sloppy against each other.

'Fuck, you're so hot.” Kate pants, roughly pushing two fingers inside her own pants and into her dripping cunt, thrusting them furiously above you.

She moans your name breathily, a thumb pressing onto her clit as she desperately tries to make herself come. Her knees are shaking as she quickens her fingers on your clit and her other hand thrusting into her own needy pussy. She was so close, so close that it hurt.

“Let me.” You sigh, quickly replacing Kate's fingers with your own. You work on her, touching all the right spots and making her come almost instantaneously.

Kate's now free hand goes to rest on the arm of the couch above your head, her other hand pressed harder and faster on your clit. You both worked in a lust filled fever to get each other off.

You smiled at how needy Kate was, eyes squeezed shut as she rocked herself on your hand. She was so sensitive, it was too easy. The feeling of your fingers in her was what she had been craving the whole night, and as soon as her slim fingers entered her, Kate had moaned loudly. So loud that your were afraid your neighbours could hear you both through the house walls.

You came just after Kate, your own orgasm drawing another moan from your throat. The shaking feeling of coming down from your second high made you instantly tired. Kate collapses forward, her orgasm overwhelming her.

Kate rests her head on your chest, looking up at you with every ounce of love in her body. All she wanted to do was make you feel good, to try and prove to you why you should choose her, be hers and hers only. It was selfish, her reasons, but seeing the look on your face, she didn’t care.

“You're mine - mine only.” Kate said it softly, almost like she didn’t want you to even hear her.

You were so blissed out, too dumb to say anything. Instead you just nodded your head and kissed Kate's head, your hand going up to cup the archer's face and stroking her cheek with your thumb.

"Okay, jealous girl."

#kate bishop #kate bishop smut #hawkeye #haliee steinfeld #haliee steinfeld fic #lesbian marvel #lesbian smut #sapphic smut #marvel smut #hawkeye smut #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #marvel #marvel fic

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sassylegshayne · 9 months

Text

Idiots Present: How to Fall in Love With Your Best Friend

hi guys!! here is the original request from the lovely @winifrede !! I absolutely adore her and all her support, I'm so excited I finally finished this piece up. I love it so much and I hope y'all enjoy it!!

2.6k words!! xx mwah

Shayne's soft chuckle pulled your attention from your laptop in front of you down towards the man with his head in your lap. His nose was buried in his book, his blue eyes darting quickly across the words.

Your heart lept to your throat as his eyes finally met yours, a grin spreading across his face and yours.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Shayne taunted you, earning a light flick on his forehead.

"I have enough pictures of you already." You roll your eyes, trying to focus on your writing again, your best friend unwilling to help with that.

"Shayne," you warn in a hushed toned, your lips pressed together tightly as he sat up, his hand sneaking towards your side as he leaned into you. "Don't you dare."

"What? I'm not doing anything.." He chuckled, his cheeks bright red as you turned to look at him, the feigned harshness in your eyes qickly melting away.

Shayne's hand hovered at your waist, his mouth agape as his eyes searched your face. Your mind was racing as your eyes finally met his again, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Shan-Ye!"

You two jumped back a bit, settling back into the couch as your eyes looked anywhere but to the man beside you. Damien offered you a smile, but his eyes scanned over you suspiciously.

Damien, as well as most of your other friends, refused to believe that you and Shayne couldn't be just friends.

Sorry, just best friends.

"Are y'all busy for the next hour or so? We're about to shoot 'Idiot's Present' but we could use a few more audience members?" Damien asked, eyebrows raised with a hopeful grin. Shayne shrugged, checking his watch before glancing to you.

"I can't speak for m'lady, but I'm free." The brunette looked to you, an excited gleam in his eye.

"I mean, I'm free, technically." You chewed your lip, avoiding the puppy dog eyes both of your friends were giving you. do have to finish this sketch.."

You finally look away from your screen to find both men pouting dramatically, causing you to breaking into laughter, finally agreeing. You'd been in a few ideos now, especially with the recent amount of cast videos, but it was different because you often wrote for "ldiot's Present."

You begrudgingly gave up on fighting with Jeremy and Patrick over it. The two men were adamant in their arguments, claiming that they had the perfect idea in mind, all you had to do was trust them.

The videos you had been in were a huge hit, every small moment between you and Shayne had been the most rewatched parts. Shayne had his arm draped around your shoulder in one video, the next video fans pointed out how you had been wearing Shayne's dark green flannel.

The fans loved it, your Twitter mentions were filled with screenshots of the two of you. Shayne made it a point to watch the edits made for you two as soon as he'd discovered them. The last few shoots became a game for the two of you. You had so much fun watching everyone freak out over things that were so normal for the two of you, so what if you two made it worse?

You and Shayne didn't have any feelings for each other, none at all, so you two wanted to see how far you could take it. Shayne and you were more than happy to enact this plan, a recent stream driving the fans crazy. Shayne was building another Lego set, this time he had been able to get his hands on some Star Wars sets.

About halfway through the stream, Shayne had gasped when he found a certain figure. Grinning, he set the figure aside before glancing around behind the camera.

"Y/N, c'mere, I have something for you." Your head popped up from behind your laptop screen, quickly hopping up from the couch to join him on the set. You settled into the cushions beside him, waving at the camera.

Shayne set the figure slowly into your open palm, your face turning bright red as you burs into a fit of laughter at the sight of the Lego Jar Jar Binks in your hand. Shayne couldn't hold back his laughter as he watched you giggle at the inside joke, wiping away a few tears once you'd settled down.

"Should we.. I think we should explain it, right?" You asked, Erin commenting that chat seemed just as confused as they all were.

"Okay, it's, it's very stupid but... Jar Jar is into BDSM.." Shayne began, barely able to hold in his giggles as you hid your blushing face in your hands. "Call him Jar Jar Kinks."

"It's so dumb!" You call out from behind your hands as laughter ensues around you. Shayne didn't expect something so genuine between the two of you, a stupid joke you'd told him years ago, to become a moment the fans loved. The meaning behind the joke became a huge speculation for the fans, which you two found hilarious.

The more you two pushed it, the more your friends and coworkers began to question it. The two of you were blurring the lines of friends and more, and confusing everyone. No matter what, the two of you were adamant that you were just friends.

Finally, Jeremy and Patrick knew what they had to do, and set out on their plan.

Once you three arrive at the set, Damien is quick to fill the last seat in the audience, causing a quick burst of laughter to come from Shayne as the realization hits the two of you.

Your cheeks turn bright red as your mouth is agape, Kimmy and Kiana's giggles from behind you cause you to burst into your own fit of laughter.

"Okay, yeah, this is great!" Shayne called out sarcastically, clapping as you two are quickly mic'd up, the cameras rolling since the moment you'd walked in. "Hope you guys have the chimp ready."

"A double surprise, since we're double the idiots." You laughed as Shayne took your arm in his, leading you to the markers.

"We might be idiots on just about everything, but my partner and I are very clearly experts on today's topic." Shayne began, taking a step back, standing on the opposite side of the screen.

"That we are, Shayne. We've studied this topic alongside each other for years. Hell, l'd say, we've spent almost our entire friendship on it." You looked over your shoulder, Shayne nodding in agreement just as the slide changed.

You spoke with confidence, a small fit of laughter roaring across the audience, very few of them knowing just how deeply you'd just dug your grave.

The two of you stepped back, your arms spread as the slideshow began, grinning out at the crowd.

"Oh.. oh my god." Shayne shrieked with laughter as his eyes scanned over the title card, the room eruptina into fits of lauahter. Your head snapped quickly, your eyes wide as you squealed at the title, quickly doubling over in laughter.

"This is ldiot's Present: Falling in Love with Your Best Friend." You managed to get out, quickly turning your back to the board, glaring playfully at everyone that you could.

Your eyes landed on Patrick and Jeremy, their excitement evident on their grinning faces as they both offered you thumbs up.

"Shayne and I are best friends, who are definitely not in love, but we will show you how to become best friends in love today." Shayne took a deep breath, trying to hold it together as he looked to you. He couldn't read the emotions on your face, but the smile across your lips was enough to assure him that you two could do this.

"Step one," Shayne and you called out as you gestured to the screen. "Buying coffee?" You nodded in encouragement as Shayne read, the confusion evident on your face, as it seems to dawn on the brunette.

"Oh, okay." Shayne scoffs as he takes a step forward. "The easiest way to someones heart is through their.." He began, pointing to the crowd as they sat in silence. "Coffee order! Awesome, glad you quys got it."

You stifled your laugh as Shayne clapped, your cheeks blushing brightly as you realized where he was going.

"It's super important to learn the other person's coffee order early on, you need an excuse to talk to them." Shayne nodded, his cheeks blushed brightly as he took in his friends' knowing smiles. The two of you had been going to the same coffee shop since before you'd become friends, just now.. you know every one of Shayne's orders and he knows all of yours. Bringing each other coffee every morning, or afternoon, or evening is totally platonic and not just another excuse to see each other. "It's almost as important as step two, right, Y/N?" Shayne looked over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"R-right, absolutely." You agree, looking over your shoulder as the next slide is shown. You felt way more nervous than you'd expected to. Shayne and you had been pretending for a while, why did it all suddenly seem so real?

"Step two, sharing everything!" You turn to the audience, tugging at the sleeves of Shayne's flannel you had on, certain that your blush was permanent at this point.

"Shayne and I love to share everything, from clothes" You began, Shayne gesturing to you for example, the crowd giggling as he mirrored Will Smith's red carpet pose. "to food, to books, to friends!"

"They always say sharing is caring, and we love to show each other how much we care." Shayne nodded, stepping closer to you as his hand settled around your waist, tugging you into his side.

"Now, step three would be." You began, the screen displaying a set of pictures of you and Shayne, the two of you quick to look at each other.

The twinkle in Shayne's eyes left a flutter in your heart as you took a deep breath, chewing your lip softly before turning toward the crowd.

"Examples, and Shayne and give plenty of examples of how to fall in love with your best friend.." You giggle, your cheeks blushed brightly as Shayne takes a shaky breath.

"Yanno, you've met your best friend, you guys are super close, now it's time for all the cute stuff." Your fingers are intertwined with Shayne's as he speaks, squeezing your hand gently.

"You guys should share your music, hold hands, cuddle... all things that friends do.. when they're in love." Shayne spoke slowly, small chuckles scaping him as kept talking. You nodded your head, grinning brightly as Shayne glanced over his shoulder to you. His hands were shaking, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He'd never felt like this before, it was like he had been hit by a truck. Shayne is in love with you.

"For the next slide," You continued, finally looking away from his blue eyed gaze, worried about whether or not you'd be able to make it through the rest of this shoot. "We will be demonstrating how to admit.. your love."

You chuckled nervously as you read the slide, Shayne quickly moving to face you, his hands held out to you. You placed your shaking hands in his as you mumbled a small apology. You jumped bit as the crowd chuckles, pulling you back into reality. When you look up to Shayne, he gives your hands a gentle squeeze, taking a deep breath.

"Y/N.. my best friend, I.. love you." Shayne spoke out shakily, a small chuckle escaping him as his eyes scanned your face. A smile tugs at your lips, your mind and heart racing a million miles an hour.

Your mouth was agape as it dawned on you. You love Shayne. You've been spending all this time convincing yourself that you're not, but here you are, in love with your best friend.

"I love you too, Shayne.. my best friend." After a small beat, the room around you two burst into cheers of excitement. The two of you jump a bit, Shayne tugging you into him as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly.

Shayne places his lips softly to your forehead before taking a step back, a bright smile across his lips. You match his grin, your mind still racing, not certain of how true his feelings are.

"I mean that.. and I wanna talk about it off camera.." Shayne assured you, leaning in to speak quietly to you.

You two took a step back, Shayne's hand quickly grabbing at yours, your fingers lacing together. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in all the joy on the faces of your friends around you.

"And for the next slide," The two of you began laughing again as the final slide read 'Congrats Shayne and Y/N!'

"We will say our goodbyes! We hope you guys learned a lot today, my partner and I loved this opportunity to teach you guys how to fall in love with your best friend!" Shayne finished, holding your intertwined hands up in the air before the two of you bowed, cheers erupting from your crowd again.

Shayne quickly tugged you off to the side with him, frantically getting his mic pack off before he took a second, looking up to your grinning face. He couldn't believe he said those words, he couldn't believe he didn't realize it sooner.

You were quick to follow suit, taking off your mic before handing it off, leading the way off of the set. Shayne was quick on your heels, his heart racing even more than before.

As soon as you stepped into the hall, you turn around, wrapping your arms around Shayne, pulling him into you quickly. You can feel him sigh as he relaxes into your arms, holding you tightly.

The two of you hold each other for a few seconds, taking a step back and finally looking at each other again. You two break into a fit of laughter, the tension in the air finally seeming to settle after everything that had just happened.

"I'm never letting Patrick and Jeremy write for that again." You giggled as Shayne rolled his eyes playfully. "I'm thankful for that, though."

"You are?" Shayne looked to you with brows furrowed, your heart melting at the concern on his face.

"Of course am.. I don't know how I didn't realize it sooner..." You laugh softly, your cheeks burning brightly, finding Shayne's face matching yours.

"Me either, honestly. We're dumb." He laughed, resting his forehead against yours, your heart racing.

"Idiots, actually. Idiots in love." You spoke, Shayne sighing softly as his hand cupped your cheek softly, his lips lightly brushing yours.

"Shayne!"

You jump back a bit, a smile across Shayne's lips before he quickly presses them to yours, your eyes fluttering shut as he issed you gently.

Just as quickly as it happened, he pulled away, turning over his shoulder to see Damien waving him back into the room. You lean to the side, peeking around Shayne as Damien gasps, holding his hands up quickly as he notices you.

"Shit, I'm sorry! Take your time!" The purple haired man called out an apology before disappearing back onto the set, filled with embarrassment.

"Shayne," You called to him, a grin spreading across his face as he turned back to you. "I love you, seriously."

"I know." He chuckled, stroking your cheek gently. "I love you, too."

"This video's gonna drive the fans insane." You grinned, Shayne rolling his eyes playfully as he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly.

354 notes · View notes

withoutyouimsaskia · 16 days

Text

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

GIF: Originally posted by @simply---words

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dubious/non consent. Language. Kissing. Nudity. First time. AFAB + AMAB penetrative sex. Unprotected sex.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Hello there! How are you all doing? Thank you so much for sticking with me on this. I always hope I can get chapters out quickly and it always turns into 2+ weeks... Special thank you shout out to my IRL bestie @theviridianbunny for giving the chapter a once over ❤️Much love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

Morpheus' eyes glint like onyx stones under firelight as he waits for you to yield. His breathing is as laboured as it was when you initially laid eyes on him, and with each exhale you are exposed more and more to the intoxicating scent that rolls off his alabaster skin.

One hand is braceleted around your wrist, thumb swiping back and forth over the veins there that jump frantically, the other steadies the solid appendage that nudges temptingly against your opening.

"I can see that you want this," he intonates proudly. "Your physical reactions inform of me all that I need to know."

Your attention darts down to the markers that are broadcasting your arousal: first to the hardened peaks of your nipples, and further down to blushing labia framing your swollen clit. Morpheus follows the same path with predatory meticulousness.

"Oh, yes, those reactions are delightfully obvious. Most of all here."

He drags the tip of his erection in a teasing circle around your entrance and smiles sadistically when you stiffen and whimper in response. He brushes his nose against yours, the playfulness of the gesture juxtaposed entirely by his next sentence.

"Your sweet enticing cunt, gushing as it prepares itself for entry."

If you could close your legs to shield yourself from further embarrassment you would, for his dirty words only add to the wetness that he has observed between them. It's now running onto the silk sheets, mingling with the pre-cum that drips from his poised cock.

Morpheus continues to speak, "But I would know from even more subtle signs: the shade of the flush on your chest, the curl of your toes, the arch of your back." He dips his head, breath feathering over the shell of your ear as he whispers, "You want penetration."

He is right. Of course he is.

The desire to be filled is powerful - a base instinct that is relentlessly chiselling away at your resolve. You swear you can hear a voice in your head chanting with every proverbial swing of the hammer:

Do it. Do it. Do it.

A conflicted whine pushes past the clench of your teeth.

Morpheus has fallen silent, his tongue tracing a scintillating path directly over your jugular, an action that makes you automatically twist to offer more of your neck to him. He doesn't oblige, instead he moves his head lazily and stares you down once more.

How was he so good at playing with you like this?

The question spends little time unanswered; the Maiden's words from the tail-end of your conversation with the Fates bounces to the forefront of your brain. "He has been made to be perfect for you."

It's the whole soulmates thing.

Speaking of the soul, to make matters worse, the ache in your chest is returning with ire. It appears that the touch of his skin is no longer enough to pacify the pain. A flash of recognition musters in your mind from the near-imperceptible sudden knit of Morpheus' brows, the tautness in his own chest; subdued cues that he shares this affliction.

You reach out with your free hand and spread your palm across his sternum, feeling the fierce shuddering there that matches yours.

His soul.

It is under the same stress as yours. He had said he could feel the sub-epidermal heat like you but had made no mention of this. Supernatural being or not, Morpheus is grappling with pain and it will simply not do.

Your eyes flick up, your decision made in the next heartbeat.

"I surrender."

Quicksilver flashes through those blackhole irises and with an exultant groan he sheathes himself within you.

You screw your eyes shut and cry out, amazed by how far he is able to push in before he meets resistance. The overstimulation you had been predicting is absent, as is the agony you feared would accompany it. It's just the involuntary constricting of your channel that you contend with, a metronome swinging between discomfort and enjoyment.

"Look at me," Morpheus commands in that velvet voice.

You comply, and when you do you see that his eyes are blue again. A pair of cerulean pools; tranquil, somewhere to shelter. If only you could relax enough to slip into those waters. There's so much tension in your jaw and balled fists, inside you.

"Breathe," he coaxes, guiding you with tenderness, a hand reaching hold yours to give it a grounding squeeze.

You inhale slowly and shakily, mouth forming a shape of surprise when the muscles slacken and allow Morpheus to sink those last few centimetres within you.

The agony inside your chest ceases and from the small change in Morpheus' posture, you intuit that his has too. Heat like a solar flare envelopes you head to toe and the weight of his lustful stare only adds to the pyre.

"Mmm, that's it," he praises huskily, putting a forearm flat on the bed next to your face. "You feel divine, Y/N."

You nod zealously, unable to concur in any other way as he has robbed you completely of sentence forming. Your walls flutter as you adjust to the stretch, the feeling of this beautiful being bottomed out inside you. Your soulmate, exactly where he needs to be.

Morpheus makes the first move; a languid roll of his hips that grazes every place inside you, and releases breathy moans from you both. Your grab onto him, the spot where neck meets shoulder, as your mind scrambles to process the pleasure. With this initial test completed, he studies your expression, looking for any indication of a wish to stop. He finds none. Only a pair of expectant eyes overflowing with desire for him to keep teaching you like he promised.

He begins to rock into you with lavish, sensual thrusts. Your cunt unfurls even further to ease his movements; you are a moonflower, blooming under the night sky that overlooks the chamber, under his celestial form.

Remembering how much he liked it before, you move your free hand to play with his hair, eliciting deep-seated shudders all down his spine. It is joyous to inspire another such visceral reflex and you feel it pass through into your own body at each point of contact.

If he is a sculptor, you are the clay yielding beneath the presses of his body, shaping you into something entirely new - a lover. Just when he has you in the desired form, he changes everything.

He slows to a stop, still tucked safely within your warmth and secures his hands around your calves to bring them around his slight waist. You're not sure how it's possible but the change in elevation makes him feel even thicker.

His eyes are becoming darker again, gaze centred steadfastly on your face as he once more restrains both your wrists against the midnight coloured sheets. The semiotics give an unmistakable clue to his plan.

He's going to fuck you like he said he wanted.

You brace as he drags his cock back, and then he delivers a bruising thrust, animalistic grunt sounding low in his throat as the jut of his hip bones imprint into your flesh. A measure of dark lust is shot into your bloodstream and immediately you yearn for more of this roughness.

"Please," you say breathlessly.

He indulges you with a barrage of hammering thrusts, moans tumbling from your lips with abandon as warmth settles in your skeleton. His own vocalisations of pleasure syncopate with the completion of each thrust. The sound takes residence in your brain, his touch in every cell. The wish he had to occupy you in entirety is being granted.

You only take your eyes off him for a handful of seconds to look at the place where your bodies are joined, where he is slamming into you, the obscene image of it.

It's like he is an open flame and you are being doused in 99% proof vodka; the fire under your skin is so intense that your moans transform into screams. Morpheus consumes them all with the sudden seal of his mouth over yours.

The smothering action unlocks something inside you. In your chest, where your soul resides, it is vibrating aggressively, much more than it has done in the course of the evening thus far.

Morpheus notices the surge in the shaking and pulls back from the kiss.

"We must be close," he muses.

You feel the orb writhe in retaliation to his statement and your whole body does the same involuntarily.

"Shhh," he says in baritone purrs, pausing in his movements to soothe you. "A little longer and then I will breach the last defence about your soul."

His tone is confident as he restarts the powerful pace he has set, "I will not fail you."

He is stormy waves against a sea wall, bringing with it both the promise of blissful inundation and the threat of drowning. Yet you wouldn't mind drowning in him. A deep-rooted impulse tells you it would be an honour to lose yourself to the King of Dreams and Nightmares.

Your conclusion translates to the contraction of your calf muscles as you pull Morpheus tighter against you, deepening the physical connection to him as well as the emotional; choosing to submit fully to this somewhat scary situation - the tying together of your souls.

Pulling him closer, it's not without cost. The extra exertion, the deeper angle he can now reach, with all the pleasure it brings, quickly takes its toll. You are becoming weaker, his determined expression growing blurry, the edges of your vision field greying and closing in. You can't tell if you're about to climax or pass out.

Morpheus, observant and empathic, interlaces his fingers with yours and grips them tightly, clearly intent on keeping you here, not drifting off into the dimension of unconsciousness. Your returning hold is just as strong, perhaps a tad on the side of overtly vehement, but if it is then he doesn't seem to care. He just keeps railing into you, the warning signs of an oncoming orgasm beginning to daintily pulse through your walls.

A long-fingered hand reaches between your bodies to hover over your clit. With the last of your energy reserves, you arch up into his fingers, determined to reach your high, instinct telling you that it will somehow aid Morpheus in his endeavours.

He grunts sinfully in approval at your enthusiasm and uses the pad of his index finger to stimulate you, a familiar instruction issued as your soul jolts sharply, shockwaves rocking your bones.

"Let go."

The way he says the words, coupled with the movements of his hand and cock brings on the most intense orgasm you have ever experienced.

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty seconds elapse where your muscles are clamping down, desiring to keep his still-moving length as deep inside as possible. You loudly say his name, pleasure devouring you whole as you look adoringly into Morpheus' indigo eyes, before you are devastated by a snapping sensation as he breaks your soul open.

You are splintered and for a measure of moments, the exposed edges of the shards threaten to turn your insides to ribbons. Your brace for lacerations is short-lived; his essence, like liquid lapis, pours in to bind the pieces of your soul. Melding with you on a metaphysical level. Waking you from the mortal life you had and greeting you with a new path.

While you have no basis for comparison, an errant thought occurs to you that what is transpiring between you and Morpheus is fulfilling something of unfathomable importance. Something that was borne far from this room, in both the measures of space and time. Primordial. Inexorable. This linking of your soul with his is the culmination of what the Fates have wanted for millennia.

And once your soul is content, your essence begins to reach out in return. Like tender shoots drawn towards solar light, your soul stretches past its boundary to embrace his.

It's the final trigger that allows Morpheus to find his own release. His mouth jumps in astonishment, eyes turning black, then silver, then blue; a broken groan echoing around the low-lit room as he buries his pulsating cock deep inside you and spills his seed into your cunt.

You keen from the warmth of it, and you swear the fast paced breaths he is taking sound like melodies carried on ocean breezes.

The stars above you have been joined by dancing swathes of green and purple - a depiction of the Aurora Borealis at its finest. It swells with each inhale that Morpheus takes, his state having a direct effect on the sky. The colours catch the high points of his face, glowing vibrantly on his cheekbones, nose bridge and cupid's bow.

You wonder if this is the most beautiful sight you will ever see. The perfect face of your ethereal soulmate, framed by celestial splendour, gazing at you with the same devotion that you are casting towards him. But then he smiles. A small, genuine smile that makes your heart soar despite its fatigue, and it's clear that there will never be anything that can compare.

Morpheus then lowers his head to your chest and presses his lips to your healed soul.

"You are complete," he declares.

-------------------------------------

Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

Blinding: "Felt it in my fists, in my feet, in the hollows of my eyelids. Shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my ribs. No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone. No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden. No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love with the wrong world."

106 notes · View notes

robynlilyblack · 2 years

Text

You had one job Weasley!

Fred Weasley x fem! slytherin! reader

Summary: Fred and Y/n are on opposite sides of the war, engaging in a dangerous game of sneaking around, but will their luck run out when the final battle is upon them?

Warnings: swearing, angst, sad and happy fluff, mentions of war, death, murder, injuries, blood, grief as well as Greyback and Bellatrix being ruthless, established relationship, secret relationship, hurt/comfort, kissing, remus lupin lives, only proofread once x

A/n: 6.5k words, Timothy Greengrass and Joey Taggert are my OC's, wolfstar implied but if you ship remdora it's written neutral x thank you for the request, as you can see I missed writting for freddie and hence wrote alot, please enjoy xx

Navigation | Fred Weasley Masterlist

Your leg bobbed uncontrollably, paranoia seeping through your brain at every small noise you heard, even the wisp of the the wind had hairs standing up. This wasn’t how you pictured your late teens, you expected some drama sure, maybe some minor life threatening when your original plan to run away with your boyfriend was discovered, but a war, becoming an order spy, having to shield your thoughts constantly from the darkest and most powerful wizard of your generation? Yeah…maybe paranoia was an understatement

Currently you were deep down a lane off diagon alley yet you could just about see the orange hue of your boyfriends shop shining down the far end. You checked yours…well actually Sirius’ pocket watch, it was 4 in the morning. Fred was likely not awake yet you hoped the light of your patronus was enough to wake him through the window.

There was a risk George or Lee may see it, but they wouldn’t connect it to you. Deatheaters were known to be unable to cast them, only exceptions were you, Timothy and your late friend as you highly doubted a man like Snape could do it. On top of that there was no words, no message with it, because Fred would know it was you, just like he always did

“Please come” you whisper, hugging yourself as the winter cold cut straight through your jumper and jacket

You probably should have worn something more, but you loved this jacket, it was cool, Sirius wherever he was now would totally approve. In fact the jacket was his, given to you from when you did run away. Yet less than a year later you would lose him and be forced by Snape and Dumbledore to return to your parents and the dark wanker himself. You would go on to convince them you were only doing as the former told you in order to gain their trust and to do that you had to make it completely believable.

Your parents were typical slytherins, yet even though you pretty much knew most slyhterins were arseholes you were proud to be one. It took a while for people to trust you.

Sirius trusted you the moment you arrived at his door, you’d later understand why as he did the same thing when he was your age. Remus followed his friend's suit and Harry trusted his godfather.

The Weasleys were cautious and all but Fred remained so, his trust grew quickly much like your crushes, to the point you were a couple by the time your final year began.

Hermione never trusted you, to the point you and your friends weren’t invited to the DA, even after Fred went off on her for it. You didn’t blame her, nor argued your way in, yet you felt sick that she was probably revealing now about how she was right. How everyone would say you were this monster just like Peter. How Sirius would be so disappointed in you now. How you…

“Hey”

You dart around, extending your wand

“Just me love” Fred lets out a chuckle

You let out a shaky breath, heartbeat returning to normal

Lowering your wand you took a second to admire him, he looked the exact same. Same light in his eyes, same goofy smile…same terrible colour scheme…orange and blue fred? What are you an Irn bru can?

Fred may have looked like he was joking, taking things slow and letting you come to him. Yet in reality all he wanted to do was take you in his arms and never let you go. He was constantly worried, to the point that not even George knew he was meeting with you, everyone in the world saw you as a traitor but not him.

“You just gonna drool over my banging physique or are you gonna kiss me?” he gestures to himself

He watches you let out a small laugh at his joke and it kills him. The light in your eyes had almost faded into nothing but a mere sparkle when you looked at him. The girl that was his underground agent back in his last year of hogwarts was now in the major leagues, risking her life more than he or most of the order were, his radio and missions child's play compared to you

Snape had tried to break his heart, told you there could be no loose ends but you refused. Instead you told him everything and offered to obliviate him if he wanted after, giving him the choice. That choice made him love you all the more, he knew remembering was dangerous, but in no world he wanted to forget you, hate you, if not for himself but you as well.

“You want me to come to you?” he offers and you nod, upper face scrunching like you want to cry but have no tears left to fall, the war had sucked you dry

He wraps his arms around you, nose nudging into your hair. It was greasy and tangled, swept back in a clear attempt to hide it. He didn’t mind. You still smelled like you, the same thing he breathed in every night as he kept your scarf, well his old scarf that you stole, on the pillow you should be sleeping on. It was even charmed to hold your scent, and above all your place until you could return to him

“Hi” you mumble into his jacket, arms clutching onto him like he’s going to disappear

“Hi” he whispers back, holding you that little bit closer before he pulls back

Your hands still cling onto him but your head tilts up so you can see his face, leaning into his hand as it cups your cheek. His eyes flick over your face, lips parted as his thumb glides over your cheek

“What are you doing?” You ask softly, a little shy under his gaze

“Memorising every inch of you….just in case” he answers truthfully, you both knew by now it was likely one or both of you may not make it through this so you savoured every moment like it was the last

He leans in and kisses your forehead. It’s lingering. His heart aching that this was the way it had to be. That everytime he sees you he tries to remember every feature, blemish, indentation, that little hue of colour in your eyes you can only see up close. When you leave it’ll replay in his mind every night, hoping, praying to gordic himself that he won’t be replaying it for the rest of his life and he’ll have a chance to see you once more

You find yourself doing the same, eyes tracing over trying to remember every detail, the slight wrinkles caused by laughter, every freckle that scattered his face, the shine of his hair…

“I love you” are the first words that escape your lips, hands trying to pull him just that little bit closer

He melts, but it’s in a soul crushing way. Your voice is beautiful, the one he heard late at night when he purposefully stayed up too late, his over tired mind finding it easier to imagine you beside him, assuring him his family and friends would make it. That you would make it. Return to him. Start a life together. Grow old together

Fred’s eyes are watery when you meet them “I love you so much” he says earnestly before cupping your face and leaning in to rub his nose against yours “How long do we have?” he whispers

“10 minutes” you give him a sad smile

“How would you like to spend them?” he asks, trying to smile as crying together would a waste

“Hold me”

He manoeuvres backwards, sitting down on a small ledge and gently pulling you onto his lap to hold you. His arms hold you securely, heads tucked into the others necks, your arms wrapped under his arms, clutching his shoulders. The ground is crisp, his arse soon growing numb as do your knees yet neither of you care, all that matters was these few minutes. They would pass slowly and quickly, there would never be enough time, even forever would never be enough

“You think he’ll be proud of me?”

You don’t have to say his name and Fred knows, pulling back to look at you, one hand moving to fiddle with your jacket

“Yes” he nods firmly “And if he was still here he would be proud to call you his daughter”

“A few more weeks and I would have been” you look down “I still have the papers hidden under the floorboard” you confess

Fred presses a kiss to your hair line “You could always change your last name to his” he offers and you look back up, nodding with a mournful smile

“Or become a dog” you let out the smallest of laughs

He joins you “You’d make an adorable dog” he nods

“Imagine the mischief” you laugh again, its freer and Fred’ heart swells

“We’d be unstoppable” he chuckles

The giggles soon die down, the cold alley quieting again as you pull a small bit of paper from your pocket. Fred watches you fiddle with it for a second, before you open it up and smile. He can’t see the contents until you turn the paper around, his hand coming up to take it

“You drew this?” he asks as his eyes trace over, instantly recognising himself

You nod, eyes growing glassy again as you talk

“You know Joe used to give me and Tim these stupid sketching lessons back at Hogwarts” you let out a breathy laugh “We’d always fluck them, drawing silly things instead” a tear falls “We found all his scetchbooks after he…” you can’t say it “Me and Tim decided to continue filling the two he had bought for us but never had the chance to…” you look back up at Fred I’ve drawn lots of you, and Sirius…and him from memory” you sniffle “That ones my faviourite” you point to it

Fred stares down at it before looking up again “Why give it to me?” he asks, heart heavy that this was you saying goodbye

“Because then you can give it back to me”

He folds up the drawing, carefully placing it in his inner pocket before bringing your lips to his. The kiss is slow, made up of multiple little kisses with whispered ‘I love yous’ slipping out in between them.

The kisses last a while, until your both hugging each other close, noses buried in each others neck

“I need to go” you murmur, placing a chaste kiss to his skin

His heart drops but he nods, letting you off of his lap and accepting your hands as you hold them out. Even after he’s stood up his hands never leave yours, neither of you can let go.

Not just yet

“I’ll see you again” he says, holding your hands tighter, nodding

I’ll see her again

You smile as much as you can, nodding as well “Until the next time”

There will be a next time

“Until next time” he repeats your words, reluctantly letting your hands slip away

You turn away, beginning to walk when you look back, staring for a moment before running backup for one final embrace

“Next time” you whisper before pressing your lips to his

“Next time” he kisses you once more but a little harder, thumbs caressing your face

You kiss him one last time, softly, before parting and walking off quickly, knowing if you look back again or stay you would never leave.

Fred watches you walk away, taking his heart with him while yours remains here with him. As his hand moves to wipe the tears that fell the moment you turn the corner he feels something sticking out of his jacket pocket

It’s a piece of paper similar to the one you gave him earlier. Opening it the years fall harder, it was a drawing of you while you’re laughing, it’s so beautiful, and in the corner is your writing

Joey drew this the week before he died. I want you to have it. It's been six months since I last saw you. I don’t know how long it will be until we see each other again, if we see each other again, so I want you to remember me like this. Happy.

I love you Freddie

Always

“She’ll come back” he holds it to his chest “She going to come back”

The next months were hard. In fact hard was an understatement when yourself and Timothy were paired with Greyback and his snatchers.

During that time you met Ted Tonks once more, a man you respected, yet you couldn’t let him go free and that was a decision that would haunt you and Timothy forever. Greyback was the one that did it, something that was so cruel, so horrific it was beyond words. He waited until the full moon, set Ted free and hunted him like it was a sport. Bellatrix arrived the following morning but only to cackle over his body while you and timothy watched

You saw many things that made you lose faith at times. Timothy was always there though, and although Joey was gone you had his drawings, even the ones which held old conversations from potions. You would talk to them sometimes, perhaps it was on set insanity but it helped.

It kept you going

Now you were back at Hogwarts, shaky hands as you waited for Snape to give you both instructions that weren’t a vague be within the castle walls as soon as you can

“Where have you been?” You ask a little on edge Tim as he enters your old common room “Oh no what?” you notice his face

“It’s happening, Harry’s here and the order has arrived too” he replies, looking beyond nervous "I think they've taken over the great hall but I didn't stick around to check"

You nod slowly taking a few breaths, heart racing that Fred was so close “Guess that’s why he wanted us here” you take a seat on your old spot on the couches and Timothy joins you, leaving a space in the middle for where Joey once sat

You both look at the empty space and then each other

“He should be here” he whispers

“Yeah” you nod “Though if he was he’d tell you that shirt looks terrible” you can’t stop the giggle

He scoffs “Well fuck you too” he starts chuckling too, looking down “Salazar it is terrible isn't it…why'dyou let me wear this?” he shakes his head

“You didn’t wash any others” you shrug

“Can you transfigure it?” he pleas “I can’t die in this”

You let out a shocked laugh “I can’t believe you just said that!”

“What it’s true! Doesn’t matter if both sides are gonna try and kill us, when they see this monstrosity they’ll be like let’s kill the wanker in the shit coloured shirt”

You giggle at him but then your face falls a little “You aren’t going to die…we’ll make it out” you say, looking serious before you crack a smile “Cause Joe will never let us live it down if we die”

“Yeah" he laughs "He’d rip the pish out of us the moment we got there, wherever there is”

“And say that shirt is a crime against fashion” you giggle, taking your wand and muttering some spells to change the shirts colour

“Better?”

“Much thanks” his fingers fiddle with the soft green material “Matches my eyes…well one of them”

“I’m not making the other half blue Tim. Then you would look like a right wanker”

You both chuckle for a little while. Enjoying the small bit of normal you always found in each other. That was until you spot a bright light out of the common room window. Standing, you both make your way over, watching the light stretch down through the water to the bed below

“It’s weirdly beautiful” Timothy notes watching the shimmer

You hum in agreement “I know it’s always been real. The war I mean. But now it feels…”

“Really real” Timothy takes your hand “Like it’s the beginning of the end”

"Yeah" you squeeze his hand before looking up at him “Just hope it’s the end we hope for”

“It will be” he stares out of the window for a second and takes a deep breath, then he turns to you “Love you” he gives you the best smile he can muster

“Me too” you nod

“You love yourself?” he teases earning a playful hit

“Arsehole”

Fred made his way up the stairs, following Remus, Tonks, and the elder of his family, George walked beside him but it was quiet. Air feeling so thick it was almost suffocating. Everyone he loved was here except you, he had no idea where you were. Where are you in the castle? Outside the barrier? Worse?

“You alright?” his twin whispers as they get to the top

He wants to say no, I’m not okay, I have no idea if the love of my life is alright, but he can't, instead he lies

“Yeah…you?” he asks, walking outside towards the balcony of the tower

“Yeah” George gives a firm nod, hands finding the wall “Nice view”

“Seen better” that makes George chuckle

They watch the spells hit the barrier. It was beautiful in its own way, like the calm before a storm, yet the storm is always inevitable and rips away everything

But you can only hope its not everything

Georges drift to the side “Looks like someones trying to cheer us up” he chuckles drawing Fred’s attention

“Wha…” he starts to ask when he sees it, a patronus, your patronus

He smiles

“Kinda looks like Sirius’ in his dog form” George notes “Think it’s Remus’ they were thing once weren't they?”

“Could be” Fred shrugs “I’ll go see, be back in a jiff” Fred pats his twins shoulder as he passes, walking towards the dancing light, following the dog as it patters back into the tower and down one flight of stairs, eventually disappearing behind a tapestry

His heart does a little skip wanting nothing more than to run in but he holds himself back, glancing around to check no one can see him before he enters slowly

“Love?” he whispers looking around until his eyes fall on you, leaning on the small window as you stared out “Love” he repeats a little louder

That gains your attention and you waste no time making your way over to him “Hi” you greet, trying to stop your hands from shaking

Fred takes them in his “Hi” he says, thumbs smoothing over your knuckles

“I love you so much” you can’t stop the tears as they were already falling, your hands slipping out of his and cupping his cheeks shocking him a little but then his own chase yours, grasping your wrists

“I love you too” he squeezes them, worry swarming in his stomach at how broken you look “What’s going on? Do they know you're a spy? They get Timothy?” he asks mildly frantic

“No nothing like that they have no idea…although they’ll know soon enough” you assure him before taking a breath

“Then what is it?” he asks softly

“You know when we said no promises? Because life's so unpredictable there's little chance we’ll be able to keep them” he nods “I need you to not to necessarily promise, but tell me you won’t get yourself killed. That we’ll make it out and we’ll get married and have a life together. A beautiful messy, chaotic life together”

He can feel the tears hitting his hands as he answers “I promise” his own eyes watering

“We’re so close to the end” you say with a shaky voice “We’ve come too far to lose it all now...I can't...” you take a sharp breath trying to compose yourself

“And we won’t" he wipes your tears and cups your face "When this is over, I'm going to ask you to marry me, and you’ll...hopefully..." you giggle "...say yes, and then we’ll move into a weird and wacky cottage, raise children if we want them and then grow old and grey together”

“Good” you smile at him, nodding as your hands fall from his cheek and wrap around his torso while his slither around you, holding you tight

You held each other for less than a minute but it felt like a small eternity. The first and last promise you would ever make to each other spoken in that little hideaway, and when you parted, watched Fred walk back up the stairs and you headed down to meet Timothy again, you both hoped it wouldn't be broken

Because if it was, neither of you would survive it

“Tim!” you shout, flicking a spell towards one of Greybacks snatchers

Running down the hall you found yourself near Gryffindor tower once more, yet you couldn’t worry about Fred. You had to find Timothy, Fred had the order looking out for him while you and Timothy only had one another. Everyone was out for you. In fact you had saved Remus from a death eater only to be spotted by Tonks soon after and almost killed whilst trying to slip away

“Tim” you say mostly for yourself, frantically looking around when you see a flash of red hair

Percy

He was fighting death eaters who had forced their way through what must have been one of the not so secret passages. He hadn’t seen you as you continued down the corridor towards him, hoping Timothy was just behind or in front of you.

You couldn’t head back now there were too many looking for you

You movements stopped though when you saw him “Fred” you see him join Percy's side

Of course he’s laughing, you think as you draw closer…then you see it

A death eater pointing his wand towards Percy and Fred through the windows of the corridors. You didn’t think just ran towards them. Percy was a little closer to the impact zone as the spell hit the wall, blowing up the bricks and sending most of it down and towards Fred and you guessed now, yourself

They hadn’t noticed your approach, reactions delayed until Percy was flung backwards and down a flight of stairs when you were a mere metre from Fred

You turned your body towards the falling wall yelling “Retcuto!” the spell vaporising the wall and the impact of which sending you and Fred flying deeper down the corridor, landing next to one another as smaller debris lands almost softly around you

“Fuck” Fred groans, wand still in his hand as he processes what just happened “Percy!” he shoots up, ignoring the sting as he looks to the side, not seeing his brother but you wincing on your side “Y/n…Y/n!” he says the first in shock and the second in alarm scooping you into his arms

Fred ignores the calls of his name from not only Percy but Ron and Harry who seem to have stumbled upon them, the small well of rubble blocking their view. Your eyes open, panting heavy and he thinks you’re going to say something sweet, maybe a cute a hello, but instead you hit him multiple times in the shoulder whilst sitting up as best you can with his help

“You had one job, Weasley!” you scold him, earning a shocked laugh

“We almost die and you’re shouting at me?”

“Yes, you complete arse” you were laughing now as well hitting him between words while he just chuckled "You promised"

“I know my snake in not so shiny armour” he quips even if his heart hurts that at the idea that without you he would be dead

His joke earns another nudge but then you wince again, face scrunching

“You okay?” his brows knit, smile dropping to concern as his hand moves to your side only to feel some wetness “Merlin” he gasps looking down, realising some of the glass from the window had hit your side

“That isn’t good” you press your hand to the area, feeling the blood seeping out too quickly before looking at him “Freddie I…” the adrenaline was wearing off now, the pain was searing and you were quickly feeling faint “...I feel a little…” you can’t finish but he understands

“Stay with me okay?” he cups your cheek, some bloods smearing across it

“Fred when we call you…answer” Percy starts a little intense and finishes with a whisper “Who?” he can’t quite see your face

“Fred we…” Ron and Harry jog up after throwing a few covering spells “...is that...” Ron trails off

Your head falls into Freds chest, unable to hold yourself up “Y/n love I need to you stay awake” Fred was panicking now, still ignoring his family as tears stream "Please we promised" he whispers kissing your temple when your eyes won't open

“Fred we need to go!” Ron shouts in an almost uncaring manner

“No!” Fred bites back with a tone none of them had ever heard, scaring them “Help me get her somewhere safe”

“Shes a death…”

“One more word and I will never speak to you again” he warns his younger brother while Percy has already moved to help

“If you can carry her I’ll defend you. We can hide behind one of the statues until it dies down enough to go to the great hall, okay?” he says softly, kneeling down

Fred nods, lifting you up with a little help from Percy

“Got her?” he checks and Fred nods

“We’ll help” Harry chips in, earning a thankful look from Fred, a nod from Percy and a baffled look from Ron

“Harry” Ron shakes his head shrugging

“Just come on” Harry doesn’t bother to argue just follows “We’ll talk about it later”

Fred was in the great hall now, crouching by your small bed on the floor and watching Madam Pomfrey work. His family were slowly making their way in, all in sheer panic for a moment until they see him and Percy who was sitting nearby

“Will she be okay?” he looks hopefully at the nurse when she stands

She nods “Yes, the wound isn’t magical nor was it deep so she will be fine. Normally I wouldn’t say she shouldn’t walk when she wakes up but given the circumstances Mr Weasley if she wants to fight she can” the older women tells him before taking her leave, answering quickly as she simply didn’t have the time

“Freddie!” his head shoots up at his twins voice, clambering to his feet to hug him tightly

“Thank merlin” Fred breaths out, pulling back and cupping his brothers face “Thought I'd lost you in chaos”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily” George chuckles, pulling him in for another hug before Fred parts and bear hugs Ginny, followed by Charlie, Bill, Fleur and his parents, whilst percy does something similar

The reunion however is cut short when Tonks approaches with Remus not long behind her

“Why is she here?” the small group looks towards them, the pink-haired women looking rather upset while the ex professor seemed sad

Remus had regarded you in a similar way to Sirius, even if he had grown disappointed in you since your ‘betrayal’, he still felt sick to his stomach seeing you hurt

“She’s a death eater…she has the mark” Tonks points towards the peaking of black ink under your scrunched sleeve

“Dora” Remus says lowly, looking around as the word must draw attention yet no one is looking their way, instead they're looking at some members of the order pointing their wand at Timothy Greengrass

“Lower your wands there is a brief truce” Kinsley commands to which their wands are reluctantly put away “You try anything and Imean anything, I will not be as understanding” he warns

Timothy nods wearing a thankful smile as he walks deeper into the hall. Eyes searching the room before the fall on Fred, making his way towards him quickly to ask if he had seen you when he sees your body laying there

“No” he whispers to himself, eyes widening and not caring about his knees as he hits the stone floor beside you “What happened?” he looks around but mostly towards Fred looking beyond worried

“She saved me from being hit by the wall but a shard of glass was embedded in her side”

Fred glances at his family, few seemed between sympathetic at Timothy and surprised you saved him, Remus evening wears a tiny twitch of a smile. Yet the ones he wanted to be wore no such thing. His mother and twin’s expressions remained hard, although they did waver a little upon hearing the first half

Timothy's face is still painted with worry “Will she be okay?” he asks, relaxing when Fred nods

“She saved your life?” Bill is the first to speak, most level headed as he wraps his arm around Fleur, holding her close to him

Fred nods “She did”

“Why?” George asks a little sharpy

“Because she loves me” Fred answers like it was obvious

Again his elder brothers and Remus seem soft towards it, like they can believe it, his father does as well but he remains neutral due to Molly who scoffs along with Tonks and George. Ginny seems somewhere in between and partially in her own world, her mind most likely preoccupied in worrying about Harry

“No she doesn’t. She broke your heart and ran off to join the death eaters. Since then I have watched you for the last two years mope around over her. She’s a traitor Freddie...please” George pleads like he thinks he doing the right thing but it only makes Fred upset

Fred shakes his head “She isn’t” he says shortly “Neither is Timothy” he adds, earning a grateful smile from the boy as he holds your hand, thumbing circles in it to comfort you but mostly himself

“You’re mad” Tonks states “They’re traitors plain and simple, you’re just blinded by your misplaced affections”

“No” Fred glares at her “They’ve been…” he stops himself, glancing at Timothy who nods, letting him know it's alright to tell everyone now “They’ve been working undercover”

She scoffs along with Molly who seems to only be quiet due to Arthur's hand in hers, while George’ head tilts and the rest of the weasley, plus Remus, listen carefully

“Undercover?” Tonks crosses her arms looking sceptical, while his mothers is closer to disappointment “Didn’t feel that way when their other little friend came after me and your younger brother”

Timothy grimaces at them mention of his late friend, more so at the question thrown towards him

“Where is he anyway?” She looks right at him “Almost killed us along with my crazy aunt”

Timothy sighs, heart aching “He…he didn’t make it” he looks away from them and to you

Remus watches the boy carefully, as does Fred’s elder brothers, Fleur and Arthur, all noting the grief and how he holds your hand just that little bit tighter. Tonks however flushes slightly, guilt beginning to swarm her stomach as she thinks back to the blasting spell she sent his way before she and Ron used the port key

“Who knew you were undercover?” Remus asks calmly, recognising something he felt all too well in the boy before him

“Sirius knew we were to gain info in our final year, but when he died Dumbledore and Mad-eye sent me, y/n and…Joe uncover. Our mission was to imbed ourselves along with Snape, feed the order information and when the time came, turn against them”

“You caused the death of my father” Tonks interjects “If you were really on our side why would you…how could you...” she can’t finish, trailing off but the boy understands what she’s asking

“I’m sorry about your father. Truly. It’s something I can never forgive myself for, nor do I even deserve it for playing a role in it, and I’m so, so sorry” he says so genuinely they all believe it, at least on some level “Not that it helps but Greyback…” Remus grimaces at the name “…the one that murdered him, won’t be hurting anyone else ever again”

“He’s dead?” Remus asks, eyes wide and lips parted

“Yes. I checked myself when he fell during mine and y/n’s tussle with him…but then I lost her in the chaos that ensued afterward. The other snatchers in his pack sought revenge ya see” Timothy explains and Remus looks like a weight has been lifted off of him “There’s no proof besides Fred and of course Snape's knowledge with Mad-eye and Dumblerdore dead. But if me and y/n were being honest we have no idea what Snapes mission really is...was? He was always so...cryptic. We had no idea he would kill Dumbledore, nor that we would be forced to fight against you all in the battle of the potters, or work with the snatchers and that monster”

They all nod slowly, taking the information in while George turns to Fred whose now moved to sit beside you once more, taking your other hand and stroking your cheek gently

“You knew the whole time?” he asks and Fred turns to his brother, his whole family and his friends awaiting his answer

“Just after Sirius’ death and before she 'turned', she sat me down. Explained the mission and everything she had been doing at Hogwarts while we were all off playing hero with the DA. After which she offered me a choice. She could obliviate me or I could remember but never tell anyone”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was!” his mother finally speaks up “You could have gotten yourself killed!” Arthur wraps his arm around her, rubbing her back to try and soothe her nerves

“I know but I didn’t mum” he answers simply, calmly, a stark contrast to his usual demeanour and it makes his mother listen “I love her, really love her. She’s the bravest person I’ve ever met” he turns to Timothy “As are you, and of course Joey” he turns back to the other while Timothy smiles “They were the ones leaking information, information that saved more than we lost. They risked everything to help us even after Mad-eye died and they were all on their own, merlin they all were forced to get the dark mark…” his eyes trail down to it, fingers glazing it

“She might have been lying” Tonks says but her voice is softer, less angry than she was before

“Maybe but I believe it” Percy states “I believe you” he says meeting Fred’s eyes

“So do I” Remus adds, earning a quizzical look from Nymphadora before she says a quiet ‘Me too’

“Me Three” Bill winks

“Four” Fleur adds cuddling into her husband

“Five” Charlie says with a nod

“Six” is from Arthur

“Six and a half” Molly grumbles lowly, earning a small chuckle from the small group

“Seven” Ginny smiles

“Eight” George finishes “I believe you” he kneels down next to Fred taking his hand “I always believe you” his head taps his twins

“Thank you” he says mostly to George but then turns to the others "You won't regret it, believing" he smiles and they smile back

Your whine however brings his, and Timothy's attention back, their grips on your hands tightening while the rest of the small crowd step back and sit among themselves, except George who stays by his brothers side and Remus who takes a seat on Timothy's other side

“Y/n love?” Fred calls softly as your eyes flutter open

“Yeah?” your head turns to him, not really aware of your surroundings just yet

“You had one job future Weasley” he scolds lightly and you giggle

“Well if you had done yours I wouldn’t be in this predicament” you clap back before your eyes widen

“What?” Fred asks but your already sitting up way too quickly, side stinging but you couldn’t care less

“Tim! I need to find him” you say trying to stand up when the boy your looking for places his hand on your shoulder stopping you

“I’m here” he assures you “I’m alright, I'm okay”

You sigh in relief, leaning into him a little bit “I couldn’t lose you too” you breath out

“You didn’t…you haven’t lost either of us sunshine” he gives you a smile and then looks toward Fred

Your boyfriend smiles back at the boy before his focus returns to you “We’re keeping our promise don’t you worry love” his nose nudges into your hair

Timothy lets go of your hand then, letting Freds arms engulf you as your head buries itself into his chest “I love you” your murmur so only Fred can hear

“Love you too” he whispers as he pulls back, digging into his pocket and bringing it out just enough for you to see “I’ve carried it everyday. And when we win I’m going to give it back ask you something very important” he tells you

Your heart flutters “Yes” you whisper to which George, who could totally hear everything, lets out a small smile

“You’re supposed to let me ask first” Fred scrunches his nose at you

“Freddie it’s been a yes since we were 17” you inform him, placing a sweet kiss to his lips

“What’s going on here?” Ron asks approaching with Hermione, both staring at your and Fred as you part

“Y/n’s injured” Remus answers for you

Your head whips around to him, surprised “Hi” you whisper, wincing at the idea of how disappointment he must be in you

“Hey” He gives you a warm smile “He’d be really proud you know…I’m proud” he tells you, eyes a little glassy

You nod, heart warming as you turn back to Fred and Timothy, both helping you stand up as they know there would be no stopping you from continuing the fight

“I know she’s injured” Ron replies a little mumbly “I mean why is everyone okay with her...and him here” he motions to you and Timothy, Hermion nodding next to him

“Y/n and Timothy have been working as spies little brother” Bill states, the whole clan turning to look at two thirds of the famous trio

Hermione and Ron look at him baffled, and then eye you and Timothy for a second. They have questions, of course they do, a boat load in fact but their was no time for that right now, their were more pressing concerns

“Has anyone seen Harry?” Remus’ face instantly pales “He went up to Dumbledore’s office but he never came back” Hermione asks, looking concerned as her hand finds Rons

“You don’t think he turned himself over do you?” Someone asks, and while everyone looks at each other in a quiet worry all Remus can think is that’s exactly what James would do

Thank you for reading ♡ I will fix some of the links up top tomorrow morning xx

#fred weasley and reader #fred weasley and y/n #fred weasley and you #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #slytherin reader #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #fred and reader #fred x reader #robynsrequests #robbiesocs #golden era

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honeypiehotchner · 7 months

Text

Devil's Backbone (Unsub!Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part seventeen

Listen...if you didn't see this coming then I don't know what to say (also I'm so sorry). There is an epilogue after this! It'll be posted Friday xx

Warnings: major character death xoxo, just so so sad

Seventeen: Don't leave me like this -- "Haunted" by Taylor Swift

It was difficult to really remember what happened next.

Hotch ran off into the darkness, with no way for you to catch up to him or direct any of the team or officers of where he went. It was a void. He was everywhere and nowhere.

You took off running back toward the parking lot, heaving sobs leaving your lips. Morgan caught you in his arms, nearly knocking himself off his own feet. You sobbed. You punched his vest. You screamed. You kicked. This was unfair. Aaron was going to kill himself. You knew it. You didn’t save him. Why couldn’t you save him?

Morgan managed to calm you down and shoved you in an SUV with JJ to take you back to the precinct. Prentiss, Rossi, and Morgan stayed at the park to search the surroundings, search the park, do anything they thought was helpful. But you knew none of it would work. You knew it was pointless.

You barreled into the precinct, taking your vest off and throwing it on a nearby table. You snagged some coffee from the finished pot and guzzled it quickly.

Reid watched you with worried eyes. From the computer screen, Garcia frowned.

“Do you know where Philips lives yet?” you asked. You really didn’t want to talk about what happened, but you knew both of them were made aware. “Garcia?”

“Not yet,” she said. “Still digging. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” you said, turning to head back to get more coffee. You needed more than one mug if you were going to make it through the rest of this.

You replayed the events of the last hour in your head. The tears in Hotch’s eyes. The brokenness in his voice. He truly believed he saw Jack. He truly believed he needed to finish this last murder in order to avenge his family. He truly believed it all.

But he didn’t believe you, that you could help him, that he could put this all down and stop. He didn’t believe you.

You drank more coffee. You paced. You waited for answers that never came.

Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi returned an hour later, exhausted and with no answers about any of it. You were fucked. You were back to square one. Hotch was spiraling.

And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

+++

You were all delirious and drowsy when the call came in. Garcia found Philips.

“Well, I found a house with his name on it— He’s renting it. It’s ten minutes from you. Sending coordinates now. Go.”

You were already running. You had half a mind to grab your bulletproof vest off the table and swing it over your head.

You didn’t have keys, but Morgan did, and you slipped into the passenger seat. He didn’t wait for anyone else to get in before he peeled out of the parking lot, flipping the lights and sirens on as he drove.

Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, and Reid piled into the second car and followed close behind. Police cars flew out of the lot one by one, falling into line behind you and Morgan, leading the caravan to the lion’s den.

You had a bad feeling then. Something within you knew.

When Morgan pulled into the subdivision, gunshots rang out, and he sped up.

“Fuck!” you yelled, worried you had gotten there too late.

Morgan barely had time to park the car before you fled from it, running toward the house, ignoring Morgan’s screams from behind you, pissed that you jumped out before he was ready. From the sound of his voice, you knew he was close at your heels, catching up quickly.

The front door was ajar, and you slammed through it, eyes darting around, your gun raised just in case.

“Aaron!” you screamed. “Where the fuck are you?”

A strangled scream — not Aaron’s — answered from upstairs. Morgan made it to the staircase before you did, but you took the stairs two at a time, reaching the top at the same time.

Another scream. This one a child’s.

Freezing horror bled into your bones. “Aaron!” you yelled again. “Jack’s not here! Leave the kid alone! That’s not Jack!”

Morgan stilled, turning to look at you. You didn’t have time to explain. You pushed past him, into the master bedroom, desperate to get Aaron away from the kid and away from Philips.

There, in the master bedroom, Aaron had Philips pinned underneath him, his knife at Philips’ throat. The same knife he once used on your back. You felt sick.

Blood was everywhere. You didn’t know how Philips was still alive, but he was, and he was fighting. Aaron wasn’t too fond of that.

On the bed, unharmed, the son wailed. Morgan ran to him, picking him up and hauling him out of there. Aaron didn’t look up from Philips. He barely moved.

“Aaron! Look at me!” you heard your voice cracking and you forced it to stop. “Hotch. Look at me. That is not Foyet. Foyet is dead. Jack isn’t here. Foyet killed him. They’re both dead.”

Hotch looked up at that, eyes wide. “I saw him.” He looked around the room, frantic. “I saw him. I saw—”

“You didn’t,” you cried. “Put the knife down. Please.”

“I saw him,” Aaron pressed on. His gaze turned red with fury. “You had him!” He focused his attention back on a mutilated Philips beneath him. “Where is he?”

Philips made a garbled noise in response, and that wasn’t good enough. You watched Hotch slice Philips neck with no hesitation, blood pouring from the gash as if Philips’ body had an endless supply of it. He was gone within seconds, head turned to the side. Aaron had a look of pure disgust on his face.

“Get off of him,” you said through gritted teeth, trying to keep yourself in the position of authority. Where the hell is Morgan? “Up. Now. Hands where I can see them.”

Aaron laughed. He fucking laughed at you.

“Ahh,” Hotch sighed, grinning. He picked up the knife, blood and skin dripping off of it. “Remember when we used this?”

“Up!” you ordered, trying to keep your gag reflex at bay. “Get up!”

He slowly stood to his feet, easily towering over you. He was always taller, but like this, in this state of mind, he felt monstrous. He felt eight feet tall.

“Happy?” he asked, knife dangling from his fingers by the blade.

“Put the knife down,” you demanded.

Footsteps roared on the stairs — backup. Morgan was next to you a second later. Prentiss wasn’t far behind. Hotch was out numbered, but you didn’t feel safe. You had two of your team members with you, but you felt even more on your own than before.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave this alone,” Hotch scoffed, tossing the knife to the ground. He raised an eyebrow. “I warned you.”

“Shut up!” you yelled.

“Hotch,” Morgan said. “I can see the gun on your hip.”

“Good for you.”

“Get rid of it,” you snapped. “You’re gonna use your right hand and take it out and toss it to the ground at Prentiss’ feet. Got it?”

“Crystal, sweetheart,” he grinned, wolfish and terrifying. “Anything else you’d like? A hickey?”

“Fuck you.”

“Mm, we have, remember?”

You white knuckled your gun. He was being a prick and he knew exactly why. His hand moved too quickly toward his hip, sending a jolt of panic through you. You flinched, your body moving backwards. “What are you doing?”

“Taking my gun out, like you asked,” he replied.

You didn’t trust him, and you were right for it. He took his gun out, but he didn’t toss it aside. He held onto it, fingers twitching against the trigger.

“Don’t do it, man,” Morgan hissed, but he sounded desperate. Disbelieving. “Put it down, Hotch. Come on.”

Hotch looked into your eyes, daring you. You shook your head. He stared harder. No. You knew what he was doing. You knew what he was daring you to do. You knew. And you hated him for it.

“Don’t,” you whispered, tears immediately gathering at the corners of your eyes. Your heart felt like a fist was closed around it. I can’t do this. “Don’t make me hurt you, Aaron, please, don’t make me—”

You would never know what went through Hotch’s mind in the next moment. All you knew is that he raised his gun, and you reacted.

Morgan and Prentiss saw it happen clear as day. Instead of tossing his gun aside, Hotch raised it right at you. And you fired in self-defense, on instinct.

The bullet hit him near his heart. His gun fell from his hands as he fell to his knees, hands clutching his chest, shocked that you actually fired on him.

The realization of what you did brought you down to your knees. Your ears were ringing, all you heard was your own heartbeat, loud and thunderous. What have I done? What did I just do? You lifted your eyes and met Hotch’s. The fear, the shock, the pain. You shook your head, your resolve breaking. You sobbed.

You reached for him despite it all, and he fell into you.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered into his hair, holding his body against yours, feeling the rush of his blood as it stained your jeans, your skin, your soul. You kissed the top of his head, sobs shaking your body. “I’m so sorry.”

You held him as he took his last breath.

Or so Morgan told you. You blacked out. You don’t remember it.

+++

The tape clicks. Across the table of the conference room, Strauss looks at you tiredly. “You don’t remember?”

You shrug. “I don’t.”

“I don’t appreciate you making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I’m not trying to,” you mutter. “Can we finish this so I can go home?” You’re exhausted, and she isn’t helping. You want to crawl into bed and not come out for the next week and a half.

“Yes, fine,” Strauss agrees, leaning over to begin the recording again.

Click.

+++

Morgan took you away from Aaron’s body so the paramedics could do their job of pronouncing him dead. You squeezed your eyes shut and willed for it all to be a nightmare that you’d wake up from any moment. But every time you opened your eyes, the blood was still on your hands.

Aaron was still dead.

There wasn’t much else the team could do, so they packed things up, and drove back to Quantico. In silence.

You slept in fits. You kept waking from dreams where Aaron killed you. Or killed Philips’ son. Or killed Morgan and Prentiss. Or killed himself. Or all of the above.

Morgan and Prentiss kept giving you these stupid looks of concern from the front seat. You wanted to puke. You were starving, realizing you hadn’t eaten in almost 12 hours. But if any food came near you, you were sure you’d vomit on it.

The tears came and went. The guilt came and stayed forever. It clawed at your insides until you were blind with the pain.

You weren’t allowed to sleep alone. It wasn’t a choice you were given, but it also wasn’t something you argued against.

You stayed at Penelope’s place with her — and Derek, most nights — thinking the color and constant laughter would do you good. Then you switched to Emily’s place, wanting the comfort of a cat. You went back to your apartment, but Emily came with you, bringing JJ in tow. Reid showed up with flowers one day and you sobbed in his arms for an hour. You didn’t realize he was crying, too.

The weeks passed and didn’t at the same time. Time kept going and stopped all together.

You knew the FBI was going to extensively investigate the entire case, but it somehow slipped your mind that a day would come when they would need a full, official statement from you. And the rest of the team.

It was the last thing you wanted to do. Aaron was still with you — in your dreams. In your sleep, the two of you were together. In your sleep, it was six months ago, when nothing was wrong, no one had died, and the two of you were happy. Only in your dreams.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #unsub!hotch x fem!reader #unsub!hotch x reader #unsub!hotch x you #unsub!hotch #Devil's Backbone #unsub!hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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jellybear455 · 10 months

Text

Tsu'tey x reader

So this is part 2 of this request. Let me know if you guys want a part 3 xx

Warnings: angst ig

Word count: 2800

Italics is Na'vi

The cliffside cracks and crumbles underneath my foot, and I nearly follow it down. Tsu’tey throws an arm across my chest, pushing me back against the rocky wall. My face burns, partly in embarrassment, partly because his chest was pressed firmly into my shoulder.

“Keep walking.” He grumbles, withdrawing himself quickly.

Tsu’tey had been my mentor for the last half a year, training and teaching me. Today was my first step in becoming one of the Na’vi- claiming an ikran. I inched further across the small ledge, keeping my eyes on Jake in front of me and willing for the heat in my face to subside.

Tsu’tey never once showed any emotion other than annoyance to me, and yet I had fallen for him. Hard. Are Na’vi even supposed to fall in love? Do they love? Or do they feel other things instead? I did not know, and there was no body I could ask without giving away my little crush.

And besides, Tsu’tey was promised to Neytiri, I told myself. He could not be with me even if he wanted to. But I saw the little looks that the Na’vi princess sent Jake when he wasn’t looking. And I saw how Jake was killing his human body just to spend a few extra hours with her. Not unlike me.

Neytiri would just break Tsu’tey’s heart eventually.

Finally, I stepped off the tiny ledge and onto a bigger slab of rock. I breathed a sigh of relief, only to seize up again at the sight of dozens and dozens of ikran. Tsu’tey’s hand pressed into my back gently, strong and familiar, guiding me away from the entrance so the others could follow.

“Who wants to go first?” Neytiri asked, settling down on a large boulder to watch, eyes gleaming in interest.

Jake hesitated, eyes darting back and forth between Neytiri and the banshee, before opening his mouth to speak.

“I will go,” I blurted before he could say anything. Jake’s shoulders slacked in annoyance and Tsu’tey squinted slightly in surprise. Did he think I was brave? Or just stupid?

I turned my back to him before I could second guess myself and stepped shakily toward the ikran. A few glared at me curiously, making my heart leap, but they mostly ignored me. I had nearly made a complete loop of the nest, and back to Tsu’tey despairingly, hoping he could offer some kind of advice, but his eyes were not on me. Turning around, I searched for what had taken his attention, only to come face to face with an ikran.

It was a purple that was so dark it was nearly black, and red lines traced the muscles of its back and wings. It was the smallest of the group, but the intimidating look in it’s eyes made up for it. It opened its jaws, letting out a piercing hiss. Rocking back on my heels, I steeled myself, before lowering my body into the fighting position Tsu’tey had taught me. I swallowed quietly, before hissing back in a way I hoped was frightening. The noise came out of my throat easily, which, surprised me.

The surprise was quickly drowned in the relief that came with the next realisation. This ikran wanted to kill me, and I was ridiculously happy about it.

The ikran launching itself at me, and I ducked quickly, detaching the rope from my make-shift belt. I threw the loop upward as I slid beneath the belly of the beast, snagging the tip of it’s nose. It reared its head, roaring, and dragging me out from underneath it. I flew into the air, followed by the rope, which I still gripped in my hand tightly.

I landed hard at Tsu’tey’s feet. Pushing myself up, I met his eyes for a moment. I could see something in them, a kind of fear that I had never seen him wear before. Before I could figure out what it meant, the ikran roared again, and I ran back into action.

Throwing myself up into Neytiri’s rock, I flew through the air and onto the neck of the ikran. It thrashed wildly, but I held on. It reared it’s head, and I flung myself around, slipping the rope around its neck and holding on tightly. I reached out, feeling it’s queue just slip out of my reach. With a final screech, the ikran rolled right off the edge of the cliff.

We were free falling. I screamed with fear and determination.

My fingers finally grasped it’s queue, and I gasped in relief. The ground was becoming dangerously close. Panic began to set in. I would have to let go of the rope to grab my own queue.

Hooking my feet together underneath it’s neck, I squeezed tightly, bracing myself. I sucked in a breath and let go.

When our queues finally connected, we didn’t stop falling. My hands gripped at the rope tightly and frantically.

STOP! I thought, squeezing my eyes shut. Surprisingly, the ikran jolted to a halt. I opened one eye slowly.

The ikran’s wings beat gently, and we rose a little with each flap. “Well, damn…” I whispered.

Cautiously, I let go of the rope with one hand and stroked her neck. Her? As soon as it appeared it my head, it felt right. We landed on the forest floor, and I dismounted.

Without disconnecting our queues, I walked around to stand in front of her. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

I ran my fingers under her chin, and her tail flicked madly. I grinned. She reminded me of a puppy. A name barged to the front of my mind.

“Hey, Lady,” Her tail thumped the ground harder. “You like that, my Lady?”

A shout rang out from the top of the mountain, reminding me what I was here for. Quickly, I pulled the rope off Lady’s neck and putt it back on my belt. Leaving a last pat on her nose, I swung my leg back over her neck and we took off into the sky.

We flew almost vertically up the cliff face, soaring past the others, then circling down the land in front of them. I couldn’t help the massive grin that had planted itself on my lips.

Jake was smiling too and shaking his head slightly in disbelief. Neytiri watched with her usual air of uninterest, but I could see the glint of relief in her eyes.

Tsu’tey’s eyes were bright with pride, and he called his own ikran. “Come, first flight seals the bond.”

Lady took off again, Tsu’tey following behind on his Ikran. I laughed as we rushed through the air. We flew loops and flips and circles. Tsu’tey watched from above, but I did not miss how his lips curled up in a small smile.

It is done. I am one of the people. The ceremony finished hours ago, and yet I am alone, sulking deep in the forest. Cupping my hands, I dip them in the river, splashing water onto my face. The paint that Tsu’tey spent so long decorating me with is ruined.

He sat with me all morning, his fingers running cross my skin. The paint was ceremonial, I know, but the way Tsu’tey touched me felt so intimate and personal. And now he wouldn’t even look at me.

The reminder felt like a stone had been dropped in my stomach. My eyes burned with tears. Were all the months we spent together for nothing? Was I a chore to him? I stared at my reflection in the water. The paint was gone.

Lady huffed from behind me and nudged my back gently.

“I know, I’m being stupid.” I sighed, wiping my face, and rising from the stream. “Why would I even think he felt anything for me? I’m not even a real Na’vi.”

A grumble sounded from a clump of bush. I sighed, running my hand down my Ikran’s nose. “Go, my Lady. I will see you later.” She took off and disappeared into the sky. “I know you’re there, Tsu’tey.”

The bane of my existence stepped out from a clump of bushes, hissing in annoyance. “What are you doing out here?”

“What am I doing? What are you doing Tsu’tey? You haven’t said a word to me since the ceremony and now you’re stalking me.” I growled back, folding my arms tightly across my chest.

Tsu’tey stepped closer, his eyes scanning my face. “You have washed off the paint.”

“Answer the question, godammit.”

“You looked beautiful.”

“Answer me- what?” My brain came to a hard stop. “What did you just say?”

Tsu’tey shrugs nonchalantly. “You heard me.”

“I- Are you serious?” I cry out, turning my back and taking a breath. “You ignore me, avoid me, then compliment me? Make up your mind.”

“I was not avoiding you…” Tsu’tey begins. I send him a dirty look over my shoulder. “I swear I was not. It is just… You are one of the people. I am simply giving you space to adjust.”

“Tsu’tey, I don’t need to ‘adjust’. I’ve spent the last six months with you. You have taught me everything I know. I don’t want that to just stop like that was nothing. I guess a little part of my believed you felt something for me, but even if this is just a job to you, it is everything to me. If there is one thing I need it’s you.”

The silence was deafening. I pressed a hand to my mouth as though it would take back what I had said. My only hope what that the sudden switch back to English would be enough. Tsu’tey stepped closer, but I kept my eyes glued to the ground. I would not look at him. I would not.

“I promise that I am not avoiding you, yawne.” Tsu’tey gently places his fingers under my chin, guiding me to look at him. He uses the same tenderness that he had that morning, and I forgot to resist. “But… you are eligible to choose a mate. I do not want to hinder your decision. It is better this way, because when it comes time, you will not need me anymore.”

The English was foreign on his lips, but the message was clear. He understood. My neck ached from tension as I tried to look away, but Tsu’tey held my face in both hands now.

“You must understand.”

“No,” I want to go home, back to Earth, anywhere that is not here, but the words spill from my tongue. “No, you do not get to decide that I cannot see you. It is not better this way. And besides, I have already chosen my mate.”

“Oh,” Tsu’tey visibly droops, hand his hands leave my face. I catch them before he can walk away.

“I chose him because he is brave and strong and he was the best teacher I could ever have been given.” We are impossibly close. I can feel his breath tickle against my lips. “I chose him a long time ago. I’m just waiting for him to choose me.”

Tsu’tey exhaled slowly, and his hand touches my face again. “You are certain it is him you want?”

“So certain. I see you, Tsu’tey. It is you I need. I do not want anyone else.”

“I see you, yawne.” Tsu’tey whispers back. His eyes bore into mine for a moment more, before he presses his lips to mine. “I am yours.”

The pod whirrs around me as it opens. I keep my eyes closes tight, but I know Grace is standing there, staring at me.

“Put me back in.” I tell her.

“No. You need to eat.”

I open one eye to see Grace holding out a bag of dehydrated fruit. “I want to go back.”

“Eat.”

I grab the bag, making for to let out a noise of annoyance. The desperation to return to my Na’vi body burns in me as I shove food in my mouth, hands shaking. My skin is pale and dry, and I can feel the grease in my hair. Somehow, I do not care. I want to go back. Back to my Tsu’tey. My mate. Warmth tickles my stomach. I eat faster.

“Can I go now?” I ask, mouth full.

An empty laugh echoes from the pod beside me. I look around for the first time. Jake is awake, too. In his hands is a bag similar to mine. He looks horrible. But then, so do I. “Congratulations, by the way. I didn’t see you after the ceremony.”

“Thanks. You too.” I reply. He smiles, and I see Tom.

“Look what you are doing to yourselves.” Grace says. Her eyes are sad and her voice shakes. “If you keep going this way, you’ll die.”

The realisation should stir something in me, but it does not. I will die if I am not with Tsu’tey. That is worse. “Put me back.”

Grace sighs. I lie down and the pod closes on me.

Tsu’tey’s steady breathing is calming. I can feel his heartbeat from where my head lies on his chest. His hand is threaded through the hair at the base of my head. I could stay like this forever.

An ear-splitting screech shatters the peace. Lady drops from the sky, and Tsu’tey jolts awake. His own ikran is close behind. We exchange a look, before separating to mount our ikrans. I connect my queue to Lady’s, and I am reminded of how Tsu’tey joined his queue with mine. The lack of connection is almost weakening. I am missing something I did not know I should have.

We soar over the forest towards the hometree. I keep one eye glued to Tsu’tey beside me. He gasps, and I follow his line of sight. Dread creeps over me. Huge, yellow machines, flanked by armed humans, are destroying the forest. Tsu’tey groans in pain.

Quickly, I drop from the sky and down into the trees. I yell for Tsu’tey to follow. He is furious. I can feel the angry radiating from his skin like hot coals in a fire.

Soon, we have landed, and Tsu’tey grabs his weapon in one hand, and my arm in the other. He pulls me through the crowd of shouting Na’vi. The Olo'eyktan spots him, gesturing him forward.

Tsu’tey lets go of my arm. His eyes are stony. “Stay here.”

“Tsu’tey-“

“Yawne. Stay.”

I watch as my mate rushes to the front of the crowd. The Olo'eyktan shouts over the noise. “Tsu’tey will lead the war party!”

No. There cannot be a war. If there is a war, the Na’vi will lose. They will all die. Tsu’tey raises his weapon, and the crowd cheers. I can see Grace desperately trying to make herself heard. I raise my voice.

“Stop! You must be calm.” The cheers turn to confusion. Tsu’tey sends me a look of surprise.

“This will make it worse.” Grace pleads to the Olo'eyktan.

“You do not speak here.” Tsu’tey snaps, tearing his eyes from me. My shoulders drop in disappointment. “We will strike them in the heart.”

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I spin around to see Jake. His hand is intwined with Neytiri’s. My jaw drops.

“Tsu’tey! Don’t do this.” He calls.

Olo'eyktan storms forward and points his weapon at Jake’s chest. Neytiri cries out in protest. “You have mated with my daughter.”

“Is this true?” Mo’at hissed.

Neytiri stood tall. She is brave, and I am grateful that Tsu’tey has not broken her heart by being with me. “We are mated before Eywa. It is done.”

A sigh of relief, then Tsu’tey’s hand on my waist.

“You are promised to Tsu’tey. How could you do this?” Mo’at growled. I could see Neytiri’s lips twitch slightly as she glanced over at us. The Na’vi gasp. Grace swears.

“We have welcomed you into our home,” The Olo'eyktan’s voice is dangerously low, and he stalks towards Jake. “Taught you our ways, and this is how you repay our kindness? Not only have you taken my daughter, but you have brought the enemy to us!”

“No! I am not your enemy. The enemy is out there, and they are very powerful.” Jake shouts over the noise, tossing his weapon down.

“Tsu’tey,” I plead, “You have to believe me, I had nothing to do with this, I didn’t know-”

“Calm, yawne. I know.” His voice is soothing, and his eyes meet mine. My stomach flutters a little.

“Thank you.”

He nods, before pulling me behind him and turning his attention back to the furious Olo'eyktan. I tear my eyes off him just in time to see Jake’s eyes roll back in his head. He drops to the floor. Tsu’tey isn’t quick enough to catch me before I follow.

@qu33n0fth3n3rds @thesheelfsworld @misscaller06 @bee814

#fanfiction #x reader #fanfic #avatar #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey #jake sully #na'vi #mo'at #grace augustine #avatar x reader

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

Code Broken (Part 3/5) mean!Joel x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni

summary: "And I wanna give it to you," Joel says huskily. "Wanna give you everything. But no more trying to stop me. No more pretending like you don't want this. 'cuz we both see how much you do."

You only wanted to pull a silly prank on your neighbor, Joel. Who could have seen it ending up like this?

[AU where Joel Miller ends up in Jackson City by himself.]

warnings/tags: voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, Extremely dubious consent, unprotected p in v, fingering, coercion (kinda), Joel is bad at feelings, Mean Joel, Dirty Talk, infidelity, nicknames (pretty eyes)

word count: 9.1k

masterlist

=========================================================

The chill of early December has settled over Jackson city in a way that feels cozy despite the cool temperature. It’s the time of year when colorful lights are strung, homes blanketed in snow looking like something out of an old postcard.

The Tipsy Bison is packed when you arrive. It usually is in the colder months when the days feel more oppressive and darker for longer. It boasts a humble catalogue of booze, dart boards and circular tables to play cards at or just relax. You shrug off your coat as you join Trish and your new friend Markus at one of the tables

Trish is talking to him about her wedding being moved to August. She's been talking nonstop about it and you don't blame her. In this new world there's so little to be overjoyed about. Markus listens with interest, expressing surprise that she wants to postpone the wedding.

"I always wanted a summer wedding," she says blushing prettily. "And I figure why rush?"

Markus is new to the colony. Dark hair and light eyes and the slightest New England accent. He works in the Jackson city stables, a confident rider who used to work on his family's farm.

He fell into your friend group the same way you had all those years ago: Trish taking you under her wing. You and Markus are both shy, both not quite sure what to say to one another when Trish isn't around. She's the glue that holds your group together.

Right now she's regaling you both with an amusing story about one of the kids at the school she teaches.

You dart a glance at Markus, amused to see the affection he's shooting at Trish from behind his beer glass. It's obvious he has a crush on her and you don't blame him. She's funny and sweet and caring. There's a reason you care so deeply for her.

You should be listening to your friend but instead your eyes are across the crowded room fixed on a figure you've come to recognize as both your punishment and pleasure: Joel Miller.

Only he isn't alone. Hasn't been for over month now. Now at his side sits a statuesque woman laughing lightly with Tommy who sits opposite she and Joel.

Her name is Tess. She came to Jackson City a month and a half ago. You'd heard about everything from Trish who had been in the when she walked through the doors of Jackson city.

She's a beautiful woman in her late forties with wide blue eyes, a kind smile and the kind of rough mannerisms that were to be expected for anyone who'd lived in a QZ long enough.

She is smiling at something Joel is saying to Tommy, her focus on the drink in front of her. You watch with a twist in your stomach as she squeezes Joel's arm with casual affection.

Joel doesn't pull away. He actually shoots Tess a shy smile that makes your breath hitch.

You watch as Tess and Tommy start chatting, Joel's focus not with them. As if he senses your gaze on him Joel's gaze swims in your direction. Your own eyes have sharply darted away, back to the still talking Trish.

You haven't told anyone what happened with you and Joel. Not even her. Sometimes the guilt of that silence consumes you, but you're able to justify it. It's not like it's a relationship, it's not like it's anything other than two isolated incidents.

Markus offers to get the drinks and before either of you can stop him he's started loping over to the bar, moving past Joel and Tess. You and Trish watch him move and your friend watches as Tess and Joel exchange a smile.

"I still can't believe that grumpy bastard has a girlfriend," Trish whispers with a grin in your direction.

Neither can you.

Apparently Tess and Joel had known each other back in their old QZ, had travelled together and separated after a raid had gone sour which ended with her wanting to partner with the fireflies and Joel wanting to find Tommy.

"They look so natural together though," Trish reflects. "It's nice they have each other."

You hate the twisting that starts in your stomach at that. Hate the jealousy that threatens to spill into every part of you.

Joel isn't yours and you aren't his by any stretch of the imagination. Two clandestine meetings that both ended with you sleeping alone afterwards. The second had made living next to Joel bearable though.

You no longer hide in your home paranoid he would be outside the same time as you. No longer terrified if you both attended movie night. But that didn't mean you were comfortable with him. It didn't mean anything more than a polite nod if you met eyes in public.

"Have you spoken with her yet?" Trish asks with a curiosity that's clear across her freckled face. "Tess?"

You have.

Quite by accident when she came into the textile room asking if her jeans could be patched. You were the only one there at the time and she had been so unassuming in her green flannel and nervous glance in your direction that you had smiled brightly and assured her you could.

You took the jeans from her, bringing them over to an open table full of old fabric. She followed you there and asked if she could wait while you fixed up her jeans.

"Of course."

You'd nodded, your eyes going to the sewing supplies. She was obviously new to the community, still amazed at everything she came upon.

"You look familiar. You're on Rancher Street, right?" At your nod a small smile spread across her features. "I thought so."

It wasn't until she sat down and introduced herself as "Tess your new neighbor" that the shoe had dropped.

Suddenly the green plaid she wore seemed more vivid in your mind as you realized: it was Joel's.

The conversation had grown stilted after that. You weren't sure how to comprehend that you were talking to the woman who captured the heart of the enigma next door. Weren't sure why this ugly jealousy was running through your veins when you had no claim on him yourself.

She'd been friendly talking about her time in the QZ. She'd mentioned Joel and must have noticed the way you bristled because she'd leaned forward with an earnest look on face.

"I know Joel can be a bit . . . temperamental," she'd offered. "But I promise under all that he's a teddy bear."

You'd had to hold in a scoff at that. She'd left not even five minutes later with the jeans in hand.

Tess moved into Joel's place next to yours. She tries to invite you over for drinks at least once a week and you come up with feeble excuses every time.

You don't want to see it. Don't want to witness Joel and this woman who makes him soft and sweet. You don't want to sit in the same house he fucked your mouth and pretend like he's a stranger to you.

He is a stranger of course, but in a different sort of way.

Sometimes you hear them having sex. Not as often as you would have assumed. It's never obnoxious, never over the top. Just for them, no one else. But if their window is open you can hear it, the low moans and the rhythmic creak of the bed.

"Here we are."

You gratefully accept the beers pushed towards you and Trish by Markus, your brows rising when Trish shakes her head and looks up at Markus bashfully.

"I tried to tell you when you went up, only water for me."

There is a pause and then realization hits you, almost knocking the wind from you when Trish flashes you a bright smile.

"Congrats," you croak before coming around the table to embrace her. "When?"

"June." Trish looks down at her still flat belly. "

You feel as if your world is growing unsteady. Not the Trish wouldn't make the most fantastic parent, and not that her fiancé Cliff wouldn't make an amazing father. It's more the selfish realization that your friend will be a mother. The frightening realization that her focus will be elsewhere, on her new family.

The thing that it always made you feel close to Trish was the feeling that you were each other's family. Knowing that this one no longer be the case makes your stomach ache.

You feel left behind as you look around the bar to see happy couples, partners. Joel and Tess are sailing into your view as you make this assessment, their shoulders pressing against one another.

"I just hope the dress still fits after I give birth," Trish laughs. You grin with a roll of your eyes knowing that even if she didn't you'd fix it for her without question.

Markus is nursing his beer bottle looking unusually down in the mouth. You make a mental note to talk to him about it. You'd assumed how he felt about Trish was a harmless crush. But seeing his face now you wonder how deep his affection lies.

"How about some darts ---" Trish is offering but you're shaking your head and pulling on your jacket.

"I'm sorry, normally I would but I'm so tired," you lie, trying to sound casual. "How about tomorrow night you guys come to mine and we celebrate properly? Trish, bring Cliff. He needs to be properly congratulated too!"

Trish and Markus are enthusiastic about this plan and you agree that tomorrow evening will be a blast. You move through the crowded bar, your eyes fixed on the door which is starting to wave and warp as tears start flooding your eyes.

You make it outside, the sound of the bar dimming behind you as the door closes. You move to the far side of the building, leaning against it. You're thankful for the hour and the darkness. The streets are empty and the snowy ground muffles your soft cries.

The tears arrive, slipping down your face and freezing in the chill of the night. You take a moment to breathe; the crisp air flooding your lungs when you hear the door opening, letting the bar sounds escape before closing again. You quickly wipe at your face, hoping it's not someone you know who's just exited.

"You okay?"

Joel Miller walks slowly towards you. He's wearing a dark tan jacket with his hands thrust into the pockets.

He looks good, impossibly good, and for some reason that makes you absolutely furious. You cross your arms over your chest, hoping you don't look as pathetic as you feel. Joel keeps walking towards you, his boots crunching over the snow as he approaches.

"You looked like you were crying back there," Joel says, nonplussed by your silent vitriol. "Were you?"

"Why pretend like you care? We both know you can barely stand me," you manage to choke out, sniffling loudly and looking at your boots.

Joel stills and frowns hard at you. "How d'ya figure that?"

You pull your jacket hood up, your breath freezing in the air in front of you.

"Oh I dunno, just every interaction we've ever had . . . "

You trail off, your palms raised helplessly.

He's standing there waiting for you to explain further. His hair is tousled by the wind, making him appear more boyish and less intimidating. You suppose this and your irritation is what prompts your honesty.

"You know the first time we ever spoke I told you that you played the guitar well. Asked you if it was Fleetwood Mac, remember?" Your eyes angrily search his. "And you've been a bastard to me ever since."

For the first time since you've met him, Joel Miller looks unsure of himself. His eyes crane away from you a beat before returning.

"I don't like playin' in front of people," Joel finally explains in a quiet rasp. "Didn't know you'd heard me."

You stare at him in shock because Joel Miller seems embarrassed. For some reason you can't imagine Joel feeling anything other than powerful. Not just because of his broad shoulders and strong legs. But because of that quiet confidence he carries with him like a shadow.

Embolden by this unexpected show of vulnerability by Joel you continue, taking a step towards him.

"What about the movies?"

"The movies?"

Joel looks perplexed by your inquiry, his eyes drifting as he recalls the incident and then nodding when he understands your reference motioning back towards the bar.

"It was packed. You and that friend of yours needed seats together."

His answer is brief and to the point, just like him. But you're not satisfied at all with this explanation, your mind flying back to all those months ago, the night you'd felt so offended. Something is niggling at the back of your mind.

"But you were so mad," you prod.

He exhales lightly and you wonder if you've offended him. He speaks slowly, evenly, his eyes drifting over your face.

"Do you remember what you were wearing that night?"

This wasn't the answer you'd expected and your brain staggers to re frame. You frown, trying to think back to that night.

"No."

"Dress," Joel states simply. "Yellow with little flowers. You could see your tits through the fabric, hard nipples 'n all."

You think back to that evening and recall it had been a hot summer night. The dress had been one of your favorites, handmade with fabric brought into town. The top was tight and you'd decided a bra was unnecessary.

But why would Joel be upset by that? You watch as Joel inhales sharply at the memory, the fingers of his right hand twitching at his side. He can see the question in your eyes and continues.

"You kept bumping into me, your skin all smooth." You watch Joel swallow, his lean neck bobbing. "I couldn't stay there beside you the whole movie. Not when you looked like that. Not when all I could think about was fucking you."

The words send a stab of pleasurable lightning down your core. Without thinking you let out the softest sigh at the sensation.

"I was mad at myself for wantin' you so bad. Wanted to punish you for makin’ me want you."

“That’s horrible.”

“I told you that night, I’m not a good man.”

Something in Joel's eyes darkens and he takes a step towards you. You know that if he touches you its game over.

"I should go," you blurt, moving backwards. Your boots crunch over the snow as you retreat. "Hope you and Tess have a good night."

The energy shifts immediately and Joel's eyes go back to that cool, guarded look that you recognize so well. He gives a sharp nod before moving back to the bar.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next morning you decide to see if you can get a few extra supplies for tonight. Just a small jug of wine and perhaps a few slices of meat and cheese for a food platter.

You're out the door, thinking about what to say to Markus when a husky female voice reaches out to you.

"Hey there, any chance you have any peas? The commissary is out and I really wanna make pea soup."

You pause wrapping the scarf around your neck at the sound of her voice. Tess is at the fence separating your properties wearing jeans and a dark green jacket.

She looks strangely vulnerable standing there looking expectantly at you. Instinctively you want to ignore her or lie. But you know that's unfair, that she's done nothing wrong.

"I do, actually. Come inside"

Hours later in bed you wondered why you had asked her in, been so ready to invite a complete stranger into your home. You think it must be because of Trish and the baby. You know your one true friend will be taken from you, busy with her new life.

Maybe you'd been hoping to make a new friend, a new relationship. Maybe you feared being lonely. Maybe you wanted some pathetic connection with Joel.

Whatever the reason had been, Tess gratefully accepts, following you into your house.

"I have some leeks too," you offer after passing her the can of peas from your cupboard. "Might be nice in the soup."

Tess watches you carefully, as if she still isn't used to this ready kindness. She extends her hand, plucking the shoots from your outstretched hand.

She raises the bundle to her nose, inhaling deeply, a grin cracking over her face at this.

"Fuck, I used to hate vegetables when I was a kid. Mom had to force me to eat 'em." She gives a serene smile, looking at the green shoots in her hand with affection. "Now? Holding these? Can't remember the last time I've seen something so beautiful."

You nod, thinking back to your first week at Jackson city and knowing exactly what she meant. Shocked at the small luxuries.

"It's how I felt about the movie nights," you mused. "And the popcorn."

"Almost feels normal," she replies with that same small smile. "Almost."

She leaves with your supplies a few moments later after unsuccessfully trying to convince you to come over to their place for dinner.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Trish is laughing, tilting her forehead into Cliff's shoulder as she throws her card hand down onto the table.

"I'm out."

You've been at your place for hours drinking and playing cards. You hope it's enough to make up for your rapid escape the other night.

"I'm never winning a hand," Cliff days, his cheeks are pink from the booze and the laughter. "Y'all are cheats."

Markus is watching you all from behind his glass, frowning slightly when you turn up the cards in the center of the table.

You give a loud crow of excitement as you realize you've won the hand. You fist pump the air.

"Fuck," Markus spits, throwing down his cards with a scowl.

You joyfully pull the lentils you're using as currency towards you into a messy little pile.

Trish tries to hide her yawn behind her wrist but you catch it and raise an amused eyebrow.

"Not even the second trimester and I'm already exhausted," she says. "Scared to think what the third trimester will bring."

"Time to get you home," Cliff growls into Trish's neck, his hands skimming over Trish's body as she squeals.

"Cliff!"

You watch Markus shove his chair back and exit the table, murmuring about the bathroom.

You and the couple across from you stand, the evening drawing to an obvious close.

"Thanks for having us," Cliff says with a slur. "Better take advantage. After the baby gets here I don't know if we'll be leaving the house often."

He and Trish exchange warm smiles but you feel like you've swallowed a stone. The couple pulls on their jackets, Cliff swaying drunkenly.

"I meant to ask, is Tess nice?" Trish's asks, jerking her head in the direction of the house next door.

"Yeah," you shrug nodding. "A bit shy, maybe."

You don't expand on that, and Trish is so busy making sure Cliff doesn't topple over that she doesn't ask more.

"See you at the movie," Trish says pressing her lips to your cheek. "I think they're playing a western."

You wave at them as they make their way out your front door into the cold, dark night.

Curious at the lack of Markus' presence, you go through your home, travelling up to your bedroom when the other spaces prove empty.

You're surprised when you find Markus in your room, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other trailing over some of your books on the shelves. He turns when he hears the floorboards creak.

"Sorry I just had to.... I needed some space," Markus explains with a stammer. "I'll go ---"

"its fine," you assure him with a wave of your hand. "You want another beer?"

Markus shakes his head looking miserable. You step further into the bedroom, your eyes following his form as he goes back to your books.

"You okay?" You venture softly. "You seemed off tonight."

"I just..." Markus shrugs. He doesn't continue and he doesn't have to. You know why he's upset.

"I know," you finish for him, not wanting to embarrass him, you step towards him. "I have a similar... Issue."

Markus turns, looking at you with surprise. His cheeks are pink with embarrassment. "Really?"

"Yeah." You nod sharply. "And he's with someone too, someone great, so I get it."

"I just ... want her so badly," Markus forces the words from his mouth. You can tell he's both relieved and humiliated at sharing this with you.

You feel such sympathy for him that you can't help but reach out a tender hand to his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Markus. I know how badly it hurts. Trust me."

His light eyes jump to your face in shock at the contact. Without warning he launches his face towards you. He kisses you needful, his teeth clacking against yours as he moves his mouth to yours.

You pull back in shock, your eyes blown wide. Markus does the same, regret etched over his features. He swears before throwing himself into the chair in front of your window. He looks absolutely devastated.

"I'm so sorry," he says rubbing at his face. "That was so --"

"It's fine," you insist though you're not quite sure what to do. Markus is perfectly fine and perfectly attractive. But his kisses, his touch mean nothing.

No, not nothing. They feel like a betrayal.

As if your thoughts are spoken out loud, a light in the house across from you flicks on, illuminating the narrow upper window.

Your eyes are on Markus' face, but you can see out of your peripherals that is Joel. He's in the bathroom, looking like he's about to brush his teeth.

He's not yours. There is no betrayal.

Joel doesn't see you, but just the knowledge that he's there, so close, makes your body tingle.

"More than fine," you finally murmur from above Markus.

His light eyes shine up at you. "Really?"

Never breaking eye contact you hook your fingers into your jeans and bring sure m them down your legs. They pool at your feet and you step out of them.

You secretly hope Joel is watching you as you put in this little show. A vindictive thread is going through you.

Fuck Joel Miller.

You let you palm slide downwards under the band of your panties until you're cupping your sex. It's perfunctory and quick but that's how you want it.

You give a sensual smirk in Markus direction.

"Really."

At this you slip a finger inside your cunt, not surprised to find you're already soaked. You slide a finger over your aching clit and shudder at the pleasure that goes through you.

Markus grunts as his fingers hurriedly go to the fly of his jeans. You remove your hand from your panties as Markus pulls down his jeans and boxers. His cock springs out, pulsing and warm when you trace a finger along the tip, coating it with your slick.

He lets out a small groan as you do this and you smile as he pulls you by the waist towards him. He's impatient, quick and needy. You let him because it feels good, because his desire for you makes you feel less alone.

Your eyes subtly venture over to Joel's house. You didn't even mean to do it, your gaze is just drawn there. You expect darkness and still in the night.

You're not prepared to see Joel standing there framed in the narrow window, but he is. He's turned off the light, so he's barely visible. If not for the brightness of the moon you might not have caught him.

A jolt goes through you at the sight of him facing you, his dark eyes glittering in the shadows.

The windows in your bedroom are tall, stopping at Markus' waist. You know Joel can see almost everything.

You want him to see everything.

You don't make any indication you've seen him, but his presence is the sole reason you bend, taking the tip of Markus' cock in your mouth and licking. It's pure spite for all the times you've had to sit there and hear Joel fuck Tess. You hope he's watching another man start to fuck your mouth. You hope it makes him jealous.

You continue bobbing your head, sucking Markus underwhelming cock until his head jerks back at the sensation and he lets out a small, strangled noise. He's close - very close. You move back to a stand, viewing Markus' slack jaw as he pants up at you.

"Keep going?" He asks in a beg.

You hide a smirk and shake your head gently. A flick of your eyes confirms Joel is still there, hidden in the shadows so you urge Markus' hands to the bottom of your shirt.

Markus is a quick learner, moving the fabric up your body and pulling it off you as his cock grinds against your inner thigh. The bra is discarded to the ground along with your panties and you stand there naked in front of two sets of eyes.

'Fuck, you're pretty," Markus murmurs as his hand goes to cup your breast, the other snaking between your thighs. "And so wet."

Not for you.

A flash of movement catches your eye and without turning your head you realize it's the face of Joel's watch catching the moonlight. You can't see everything, but you recognize the jerky motions of his wrist.

He's stroking his cock and watching you.

A new surge of arousal goes through you at that. You go to the table beside your bed and pull out a condom, passing it to Markus. He moves with shaky hands, rolling it over his cock before you quickly clamor onto Markus' lap.

With a determined look in Joel's direction you sink onto Markus' cock and give a theatrical sigh, your mouth parting.

Markus makes a small whinnying in the back of his throat and you wish you could silence him for the rest of this experience.

A wave of guilt goes through you at that thought. You're using him.

The guilt lasts until Markus thrusts up into you causing your body to jolt. You grip his shoulders, looking down at him. His eyes are shut tightly and there's no doubt in your mind that he's using you just as well.

You don't tell him you're doing the same. That when he begins to fuck you in earnest and your eyes fall shut that is Joel Miller your thinking of.

But when your eyes crack open it's Joel Miller you see, staring out at you. He's moved to be framed in the moonlight and you can see his hand is moving hurriedly over the head of his cock.

He's getting off to Markus fucking you.

You know it's wrong to enjoy that, but it doesn't stop the thrill that goes through you as you bounce up and down on Markus lap.

"Fuck you feel good."

Markus is grunting into your sternum, his hips grinding to a halt. Despite his need he's trying to prolong this. But you don't want that, you want to match Joel's tempo which is fast and getting faster.

"Faster," you urge, swivelling your hips and Markus immediately acquiesces. His hips jerk up into you, thrusting as his hands move to grip your hips.

Your own palms balance against the glass pane of your large bedroom window, cool under your touch. You begin bouncing on Markus lap with gusto, your eyes jumping to see Joel moving more into the center of the window.

He wants you to see him. You can see he's breathing raggedly as he pumps himself, one hand balanced on the window frame. He's watching you, unblinking as if he's worried he'll miss something.

"Faster," you command Markus in a breathy coo as you watch Joel pumping his cock, fucking his hand at a blinding pace. You breasts are bouncing harshly, your thighs trembling.

"So good," you groan now, but it's to Joel whose lips are parted slowly, his eyes barely open.

"I'm gonna come," you whimper, your hips grinding down on an enthusiastic Markus cock. You wonder if Joel can read your lips through the glass.

Joel nods in the window at you, his hand pumping his cock. He's murmuring something but you obviously can't hear with the window and distance between your homes.

"I'm gonna come for you," you wail, you eyes fixed on Joel's face. His eyes are half closed and his mouth is slack.

And while it's Markus who releases himself within you, it's Joel who you watch spilling himself over his knuckles and groaning silently behind the window.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It’s a week later when Tess finally corners you, demanding you come over for a drink. You’ve put her off so often, so long that it feels your only answer can be what you give her: a feeble yes.

You follow her into Joel’s home, trying to pretend you don’t recognize the chipped paint or guitar beside the fireplace. That the art on the wall is fascinating and you need to be led to the table.

There’s noise in the kitchen and you realize with a sinking terror that Joel is home.

"Can you grab an extra glass?" Tess calls over her shoulder as you take a seat at the table. She shoots you a cheerful look followed by a wink. "Finally convinced our neighbor to have a drink with us."

There is the sound of a glass falling and smashing onto the floor from the kitchen and Tess looks towards the noise. Joel steps out with two mismatched tumblers looking stormy.

"One slipped," he explains passing Tess the glasses. "'S'okay though, I don't really feel like a drink."

"Since when?" Tess says giving his arm a playful bump with her shoulder. He gives her a ghost of a smile. "C'mon Joel. Try n’ be social."

Joel gives a small nod, following her to the table where you sit trying in vain to look anywhere but his face. He takes the seat across from you, his large hands folded on the table as if he's about to interrogate you. This later proves to be ironic as Tess is the one peppering you with questions.

Where did you live originally? Are you with someone? What do you do for work? For fun?

You feel overwhelmed sitting there, your fingers trailing down the side of your whiskey tumbler.

Chicago. Single. Textiles. Reading.

Your answers are brief and spoken in a soft mutter.

"Just you here?" Tess prods. "No family?"

You don't enjoy talking about yourself or the life you had before. You think of the grainy photograph in the album you keep. Your throat feels tight.

"What do you read?"

This is the first question Joel has asked you, the first thing he's said that doesn't sound dragged from him. Habitually your eyes go to the speaker, moving from Tess ' s face to Joel's. He's studying you, that much is obvious.

"Anything I can get my hands on," you answer truthfully. "Austen, Steinbeck, Bradbury ---"

"You have some Bradbury don't you, Joel?" Tess interrupts looking at Joel. "I thought I saw some when I was cleaning."

"Yup, Austen too." Joel nods and his dark eyes capture yours once more. "You can borrow 'em if you want."

You shake your head. "I don't want to bother you with -"

"Isn't a bother if I'm offering," Joel says flatly. He talks in a way that makes you feel uncertain of his mood. Is he irritated? Amused? It's hard to tell when you refuse to look in his eyes. Tess brushes a piece of lint from his shoulder and Joel flashes her a ghost of a smile. You wonder what they must have seen in their time together to have Joel of all people so domestic.

"Sure," you nod. "I'd like that."

"Lemme check upstairs," Joel says. "I might have a few packed away."

At this he stands and leaves you and Tess. You wait until the creak of his footsteps is overhead upstairs before you look back at Tess.

"See, he's not an asshole all the time," Tess says smiling over her glass. You smile back shyly.

"What's his deal?" You try to act unaffected, as if her reply doesn't really matter. "Until you, I don't think I'd ever seen him smile before."

Tess looks uncertain of if she should share. She doesn't know you at all and by the looks of it to her, neither does Joel.

"Joel's seen a lot," she finally answers. You nod, knowing that's the best you'll get and perhaps that's for the best.

She doesn't tell you more, but you already know. You've seen the photo in Joel's room. You've seen the haunted look in his eyes. But you don't want to ask more because learning more about Joel, caring about him, seems like a bad idea. It makes things harder.

"It's nice to see him happy," you offer without thinking. You surprise yourself with that.

You hear your name being called from upstairs.

"Sounds like he found those books," Tess smiles. "I gotta pop out to grab some stuff for dinner. If you're still here when I get back you should stay and eat with us."

You give a noncommittal noise in reply. She exits just as you go to the staircase, looking up nervously. You know what and who waits for you there.

Don't be so pathetic.

You're at the top of the stairs within seconds, carried by trembling legs. Joel's in the doorframe of the second bedroom, his shoulders almost as wide as the door.

He glances over at you at your approach, his hands full of paperbacks. A cursory look tells you there are some gems in there.

"Got those books for you," Joel murmurs.

You nod, thinking of how strange it feels to actually be having a genuine conversation with him. Your mind draws a blank on what to say to him next.

"Tess went to get some stuff for dinner," you finally offer, desperate to fill the silence between you.

Joel doesn't reply to this and you wonder if he heard you or is purposefully ignoring what you said. You come towards him with your hand outstretched for the books.

"Thanks very much," you say, feeling as if your breath is stuck in your chest. "I'll get them back to you soon."

"No rush."

As you reach out your hand your eyes drift over to the bathroom door, your heart skipping a beat. Memories of Joel's frantically stroking hand over his cock assault you.

Joel seems to notice where your gaze has travelled because he straightens his spine, his dark eyes darting to your face.

You aren't ready for the way his strong body presses you against the wall, pinning you there with his hips. The books fall from your hands and thud onto the wood floor below. Your hands are on his chest, holding him back.

"What are you doing?"

He doesn't reply with words. Instead his hands are fumbling with the buttons of your jeans.

"No," you say, even as your eyes fall shut. Joel's mouth is trailing open mouthed kisses up your neck.

"Yes."

You hold in a shuddering moan at his rasping singular word, sharp and huffed hot in your ear.

You have the passing thought that this is almost the very spot he fucked your mouth. The very spot he changed you.

But now this is the home he shares with Tess. Tess who has been nothing but kind to you. Tess who makes him smile.

Your opened jeans are being pushed down and he's pressing his mouth to your neck, his tongue slipping out over your pulse point to taste you.

His wide palm is slipping down under the band of your panties. You know he's working quickly because neither of you know how long until Tess gets back.

"Joel ---"

You let out a sharp whimper as one of his fingers breaches you, slipping over your clit and curling inside. Your hands go to his shoulders, gripping him there for balance.

You can feel him watching you, his dark eyes fixed on your face as he feels how wet you already are.

"We have to stop" you say in a sigh, even as his finger slides in and out of your dripping cunt. Joel moves his mouth to your neck as his fingers tease and slide. His hip is grinding against your thigh.

"Can't."

He's added a second finger, stretching you. You bite his clothed shoulder, the pleasure making you feel boneless.

Joel groans, his thumb curving around your clit and you see stars.

Stop it. Stop this.

"Joel," you gasp, your hand going to claw at his wrist. "You need to stop."

But he can't stop; he's so intent, so desperate. His shoulder dips and his fingers are curling, coaxing those desperate moans from you. His thumb taps your clit, circling and tapping again when he sees your quiver after the first.

"I need to hear it," he repeats, his mouth pressing wet kisses to your jaw. "I need to hear you."

You want to ask him why. Why this crazy frenzy? Why can't he be content to having Tess and leaving you alone? He has everything and you have nothing. Why does he need more?

You know why he's doing this. The show you put on for him in the window. The way he'd come after watching you get fucked by another man. A man who wasn't Joel.

"We can't do this," you say, but it's for nothing.

"You'll let that boy fuck you but not me?" Joel growls. Your entire back is arched and you're riding his hand shamelessly. You're eyes are half open, watching him wet his lower lip with his tongue.

"We can't do this," you repeat.

"We are," Joel grunts.

You whimper as the orgasm slowly starts to approach. Your thighs begun to tremble, trapping his palm there as you ride his hand.

"Look at me," Joel demands through shallow breaths. Your eyes are trying to focus on his face, on the parted mouth and lust-filled eyes.

Lust you don't deserve. Lust you've taken.

Guilt overtakes you. You shake your head, trying to extricate yourself from his grip. Your jeans are still around your knees, stopping you from moving from him smoothly.

"Let me go," you whisper, thinking he's understood as he withdraws his fingers. Instead he's using them to pull your panties down and release himself from his jeans.

You see his hardened cock spring free, beautiful and sun kissed in color. The tip is rosy and straining towards you. You've seen it before, tasted it, but you know he has no intention of using your mouth right now. Joel looks down at his cock as his hand comes to hold it.

"Look what you do to me."

You watch as with one wide hand he guides the head of his cock to your entrance, moving the tip to graze along your slit. Your brows knit together in painful pleasure.

"It's wrong," you insist, slamming your eyes shut as you think of Tess. You shouldn't be allowing Joel to box you in against the wall. Shouldn't tremor in anticipation as he takes his cock in hand again and drags the weeping head against the seam of your cunt.

"Just the tip," Joel murmurs against your ear. He's so convicting, so sweet as he suggests it. As if he's not asking for much. "Just a little bit. See how it feels."

You shake your head weakly. "We can't."

"Mhmm we can,"' he croons softly.

Even as you sigh soft words of denial, your cunt leaks at the thought of him sheathing himself within you. His cock is gliding along the lips of your cunt, pressing up slightly.

"We shouldn't."

"Just a little," Joel assures as the tip of him breaches you, twitching. You inhale sharply, the bulbous head of his cock stopping just barely past your entrance.

Joel is watching you, moving his face back to see your reaction. When he sees the way your eyes are shuttering he smiles before pulling back out slowly.

If you stop right now you think there is a chance you can salvage this moment. That you can live with the guilt because you stopped it from progressing too far.

But then Joel shuffles forward, pinning you to the wall tightly. It makes you breathless, tilting your head back in order to catch your breath.

As you do this Joel is slotting himself between your thighs and you feel the head of his cock breaching you once more.

"That's enough," you pant, trying to shake him from you. "You said just the t---"

"A little bit more," Joel reasons and you cry out as he slides into your cunt another inch before he stops, his forehead pressed against yours. "F-fuck. So good."

"No more, Joel," you beg in a whisper, even as your hips begin to shift for him. "We can't."

"Just a little longer," Joel tells you as he withdraws.

Your hands are on his shoulders hoping to push him away, but there's no power in your limbs. Then he's inching himself in further, whispering against your temple when you try to close your legs.

"Shhh shhh, just a little more. You can't expect me to stop when it feels this fucking good." He lets a soft groan out against your jaw when he pushes into you again.

He slowly fucks you like this, braced between Joel and the wall in the home he shares with his girlfriend. He groans lowly in his throat each time he pulls out and then with aching slowness inches his way back inside you. He does this over and over until you are both shaking with need.

You're too weak to stop this pleasured dance, you can't stop taking him inch by inch. You need him to be the one who stops you from yourself.

“Please,” you beg.

"You can take it," Joel tells you in a soothing tone, brushing the hair out of your eyes. He watches you grit your teeth, your eyebrows saddling as he drags his cock from your cunt. As you struggle in silence, his hips snap up, jolting you and you let out a sharp cry of pleasure.

"Fucking knew it," Joel groans against your throat. "Knew you were fucking m-made to take my cock."

You want to stop.

No, that's not accurate.

You want to it to stop feeling so fucking good.

He's pushing himself deeper into you and you scramble to find purchase.

"S-stop, Joel."

He stills inside you and he presses his forehead to yours before he withdraws sharply.

"You really want me to stop?" he pants, his gaze locked on yours, as he waits for a response. "Tell me, pretty eyes."

Even as he says this he grinds himself in your inner thigh, leaving a smear.

You know he'll stop if you say so. He’ll be furious but he’ll stop.

Your palms are on his chest, but instead of pushing, you're winding your fingers in the flannel and holding because you feel empty, so painfully empty without him inside you. Your eyes meet his, blazing.

"Don't stop."

A smile blooms over his normally stoic features and with an aching slowness he slips back into your cunt, moving deeply as you cry out, your arms wrapping around his neck and your hips thrusting against his.

"Oh that's my good--- Good fucking girl," Joel slurs slowly, languidly, drunk on your cunt. He bottoms out within you at an achingly slow pace, his forehead pressing against yours.

My good girl.

His good girl.

You feel pathetic for preening at the thought. Especially when you know it's not true.

"That's my good--- girl taking me," Joel whispers against your mouth without actually kissing you. "Mmm -- Fuck. This ain't gonna be a onetime thing, baby. Not when you feel this good."

You feel your nipples tighten at the acknowledgement that this won't be the last time he fucks you. Thoughts of fucking him all over Jackson city cause your hips to stutter.

But then the guilt is back, etched in your features.

"Joel," you whisper even as your thighs part to better accommodate his cock. "Joel, we gotta stop."

He shakes his head. He urges your head down until your eyes go to where your bodies join.

"Look how good you are, for me" Joel whispers, forcing your gaze between your bodies. "Just look, baby."

With a small moan you watch him pull himself out of you completely, his thick cock soaked. It twitches eagerly, his lower abdomen taut before slipping back into you.

"Keep watching," Joel encourages softly groaning when he withdraws again. He does this a few times, murmuring praise and filth as he encourages you to watch him. He pulls out of you gleaming with your slick coating him.

"You see how much you want it?"

Joel has you clinging to him, your hips already shuffling to him, missing him inside you. He lets you press until the head is inside you, grazing your clit.

"Uh huh," you whimper.

"But you need it deeper, don't you?" Joel murmurs, bobbing his tip along the seam of your cunt. "You want me to stretch that pretty pussy wide."

You nod because you no longer have words.

"And I wanna give it to you," Joel says, the tip of his cock still teasing your clit by grazing it. "Wanna give you everything. But no more trying to stop me. No more pretending like you don't want this. 'cuz we both see how much you do."

You nod breathless, your eyes fixed on his. His voice is light but his eyes are intense. His cock is still curving against the lips of your cunt, grinding there.

"You open your legs for me and you take all of my cock. You come for me," he says this all with the blunt focus of a man who knows exactly what he wants and how he wants it. "Then you get down on your knees and swallow my come while I fuck your mouth. Understood?"

"Yes, Joel."

There's no hesitation in your voice, only desperate compliance.

"You're gonna take everything I give you? You're gonna be good for me?"

"Yes, Joel."

It's all he wanted to hear. He smirks sedately widely before he shifts and positions himself at your entrance. He presses your right thigh back against the wall, opening you up lewdly. You're making small begging sounds as he lines himself up. He watches you without blinking before sliding up into your sex, his pelvis slamming into yours as he does. He's bottoming out, and because you're so fucking wet there is no resistance. And now, fully surrendered you relax and welcome him deep.

It's perfection. A blissful fullness that makes you moan long and low as your clit pulses.

"Better than I imagined," he groans in your hair as he begins to thrust. "H-- fuck. Fuck, I knew it would feel good but .. f- Fuck this cunt is perfect."

You want to cry out that it's his cock that's perfect, but all you can do is feel. He's so thick and he fills you so perfectly. Joel is murmuring in your ear.

"Fucked that boy in the window to make me jealous. But I know it was me you were thinking of. Wasn't it?"

You nod, your body bouncing against his. He braces you.

"He didn't make you wet like I do."

"Nuh uh," you mumble, unable to sound articulate when Joel is fucking you like this.

"Because this cunt is mine," Joel tells you plainly. "She was meant for my cock. Only my cock."

Your hips stutter when he says that, your abdomen quivering at his possessiveness.

"You like that," Joel marvels and his hips increase in tempo. "You like hearing that she's mine."

"Joel," you whine both in need and in embarrassment.

"It's okay pretty eyes," Joel chuckles. "It's okay."

You can't help but let out a sharp moan, covered in its infancy by Joel's wide hand because at that very moment the door swings open downstairs and Tess's voice reaches you both.

"Joel, you still home?"

Fear consumes you and you go to pull away from him but he keeps you still, cock warm and twitching within you. Your heart is clamoring at this, terrified at his reaction, horrified that you'll be caught.

You consider your next moves. Will he help you escape out the window? Will he pretend he really was just giving you the books? Will you have to walk by Tess knowing her boyfriend was just inside you?

But Joel doesn't seem as concerned as you. You realize belatedly that Joel doesn't seem to care about this turn of events at all. In fact it's the opposite. His pupils have blown wide and his hips stutter.

"Be down in a minute," he calls gruffly, but his eyes are on you as he does. "Just finishing something up."

You try to pull away, but that only seems to excite him. He leans forward until his mouth is grazing your earlobe.

"She's gonna hear you," Joel warns, his lips grazing against your cheek as his hips start to increase in tempo. "Gotta keep quiet."

Is he seriously considering fucking you against the wall when Tess is here?

"She's right downstairs," you whisper barely audible.

"Then you better be quiet," Joel orders softly. He's already started thrusting shallowly again. "Show me how quiet you can be, pretty eyes."

"I-- I can't . . ."

Without ceremony Joel thrusts back deeply into you deep, sealing his hand over your mouth. It's a good thing he does because you don't know you'd be able to be quiet. Not when his cock feels so good, not when his free hand slips between your bodies and his fingers find your clit.

"Shhhh," Joel reminds you as your eyes roll back and the sounds from your throat explode into his palm.

You're trying to keep calm, but the way he's playing with your clit as he fucks you against the wall is too much. Everything feels too much.

"Don't pretend you don't love this," Joel whispers against your temple. "You mouth lies but your cunt doesn't."

You hate the truth in what he says. That fucking Joel while Tess is downstairs oblivious makes you so turned on its hard to see straight. You want the illicit thrill of being caught to sicken you, not turn you on.

He moves his hand from your mouth, sliding it down until his wide palm is gripping your throat to hold you in place while he thrusts.

"Taking me so ... Mmmm ... so well."

His eyes rove from your face to where you join and back again. The sight of holding you by the throat as he fucks you is turning him on, you can see that in the darkening of his eyes.

"I'm scared," you reason quietly even as you guide his cock to your center after he withdraws. "What if someone ---"

"Don't care," Joel grunts as he thrusts up in earnest squeezing your throat as he thrusts. "Don't care if someone catches us. Need to fuck you."

You believe him. And yet you both remain as quiet as possible, your ears still straining to hear the sound of Tess cooking downstairs.

"Come for me," Joel tells you, immune to the concept of fear. "I want you drownin' my cock."

"I can't," you whine so softly you're not sure he heard. "It's too much."

There is a small creak of floorboards underfoot and you stiffen.

When Joel stills you feel a mixture of relief and overwhelming disappointment. You think this is when you both come to your senses.

But Joel withdraws just so he can cup your sex possessively with one broad hand, the other still curled around your throat.

"This is mine," he rasps lowly against the shell of your ear. "She gets wet for me when I say and she comes for me when I tell her to."

Fuck if that didn't go straight to your pussy. His tall frame looms above you, his dark eyes boring into you. He's still dressed above the waist and for some reason that makes him feel so much more intimidating.

He waits, his brows raised until you manage a weak nod.

His fingers begin at your clit again, teasing and coaxing. It feels so good you're having trouble remembering to be quiet, so you bite your lower lip to stop yourself.

"There she is," Joel grins. His cock slides up into you again and it takes everything in your power not to faint against the wall. He feels so fucking good.

"See how good things can be when you just let go?"

You nod, your hands lacing behind his neck. And suddenly you can't stop kissing his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Deep appreciation for the perfect way he fucks you overwhelms you.

"You never have to worry," Joel assures you in a tone of soft honey, his lips pressing against your cheek. "I'll always make sure you come, pretty eyes."

"I know," you breathe against his jaw. "I wanna come for you, Joel."

"Course you do," Joel muses.

"I wanna make you feel good."

Joel whispers a sigh in your ear. "This perfect pussy makes me feel so fucking good."

"I wanna make you come, Joel."

His dimpled smile flashes at you. "Yeah?"

"Tell me how," you beg in a broken whisper. "I wanna know how to make you come the way you like."

"Fuck," Joel groans lowly, his eyes shuttering. His free hand covers your mouth again because you start whimpering again.

You think he might remain silent because he starts to pump into you, reddened cock sliding out to graze your clit and then slamming back deeply into you.

"After you come then you're gonna get on your knees for me," Joel is gasping softly against your temple. "Just like that first time... I'm gonna fuck--- gonna fuck that sweet mouth."

"Yes," you whisper under his palm, your eyes glazed with lust.

"And you're gonna take it," Joel's forehead is dotted with sweat. "You're gonna take it all. Because it's yours.. and when I come down your throat you're gonna thank me for it. You're gonna sit there like a good girl on your knees and thank me."

You're nodding like you're able to listen attentively, even as your brows knit together when his cock slams into you.

"Then you're gonna unlock that bedroom window so I can come and fuck you properly whenever I need to."

When your eyes crack open in surprise at this suggestion you see Joel's face is unguarded, his eyes shut and his head tilted back as he fucks you. It's that sight that causes you to come harshly.

"Oh perfect -- so fucking good," Joel whispers praises in the shell of your ear as you come. "I can feel that.. So good. My good fucking girl knows whose cock to come on."

He follows immediately, launching his face in the crook of your neck as he releases himself within you. He empties himself into you, pulsing and thick and this shocks you. You give a shuddering breath before pushing him back from you harshly. The motion sends him back a step, his softening cock sliding from you.

"What have you done?" you choke out in a whisper, horrified.

It hits Joel belatedly, the realization that not only has he cheated on Tess but that he also didn't use a condom. His dark eyes widen and blink rapidly.

"Fuck I-."

You don't listen to what he says next. Instead you scramble to pull up your panties and jeans, ignoring the sensation of Joel's seed running down your inner thighs. Terrified tears morph into shameful ones as Joel tucks himself away.

You want to scream, you want to cry, you want to do something that releases this terror and shame from your body.

What the fuck have you done, the pair of you?

Instead you move to the window, throwing it open and crawling out without a backwards glance at him. You can only pray that Tess is too busy cooking to hear as you bound from Joel's roof to your own.

You throw the window to your bedroom open, pulling yourself over the sill with a grunt. Feeling dazed you go into the tub and shower, scrubbing at your flesh until it's raw and red.

Only after you feel your entire body has been scrubbed clean with the antibacterial soap from the commissary do you pull on fresh nightclothes. Despite your thorough washing it's like you can still smell him on your skin.

You go to the window of your bedroom and see the blinds in Joel's home have been drawn. Before you crawl into bed and collapse into tears you stare at the quiet home across from you.

Then you lock your window.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #smut #joel miller smut #joel miller #fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal #dad joel miller #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel #dirty talk

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vampire-exgirlfriend · 1 year

Note

Hello, hello! First I wanted to say that I absolutely adore your writing. So thank you for sharing it with us common folk! Second regarding your open asks if possible and whenever: Bare and/or copper for Osferth? Pretty please? :) but only if you feel like it! xx

After Dark

I decided to play around with some season five Osferth for this one and really like how it came out. I've started to realize I always make baby monk a lil closet freak lol

Pairing: Osferth x reader (first person)

Rating: E

Warnings: smut, a tiny bit of blood

masterlist

Word that Rumcofa was to have a new Lord spread like wildfire, making its way through the church gossips to the tavern drunks and every home in between.

When he finally arrived, I found Lord Uhtred to be a decent enough sort, though maybe too pretty for his own good. Eyes followed him everywhere, raking over the hair that gave him away as a fellow Dane, to his charming smile and down his lean body. The men he traveled with respected him, and he in turn treated them with great affection. The Irishman, Finan, was quickly entangled with Ingrith, and Sithric Kjartansson brought with him a wife from Wessex. That left Alfred and Edward's bastards for the women of Rumcofa to fight over, one barely out of boyhood and the other an utter contradiction, wearing the cross of his god and the armor of a warrior.

They went for the handsome contradiction in droves.

For months the group would take up residence in the tavern. They were polite enough, rowdy on occasion, and happy to drink like they'd just survived a drought. Osferth, the elder bastard boy, would send shy eyes across the room, darting away when I looked back at him. It was hard not to preen under his sweet attention, even when other women dragged him from his table and out into the dark.

He spoke softly, never really saying much at all, but when he did speak, I found myself listening, hoping to catch the sound of his voice as I wiped down tables and cleaned up the discarded cups.

After enough push and pull, eyes meeting over crowded rooms, Osferth reached out, his fingers wrapping around the bones of my wrist as I attempted to scoot by with hands full of cups.

Shock bled over his face, as if he couldn't believe he'd actually gone through with the action, as opposed to just imagining it. But he recovered quickly, smiling up at me. My own mouth curled up at the corners. "Yes, monk?" I asked with a raised brow. If his friends noticed, they said nothing, keeping their eyes averted.

"Lady, not to insinuate anything or assume," he cleared his throat, "but might I walk you home tonight?"

My other brow rose, the two pinching in confusion. "You want to…walk me home?"

He nodded.

I glanced around the room, at his friends, at the other women I knew would jump at the opportunity. But when I looked back he still had that earnest expression on his face. "You don't seem to hurt for company. Why are you asking me?"

"It is your company I've sought for months now, I've only just worked up the nerve to say so." His hand was warm on my forearm where his fingers grasped. My eyes darted between his hand and his reddening face. It became obvious that any experience the barely-not-a-boy had was recently gained. He released me and I was surprised to find I missed the heat of his skin against mine.

"I suppose you could walk me home." My eyes fell on his friends, loud in a good natured sense and nearing drunk, their laughter carrying through the room. "If your friends decide they're ready to wrap up, that is.

Osferth turned to the Irishman, his blue eyes pleading. "Finen, if I've come to mean anything to you, you and Sihtric will go home."

"What? Now?" Finen's gaze slid between his friend and myself, narrowing and then widening again in realization. He slapped the skinny Dane on the back. "Finish up, Sihtric. Our baby monk has plans of the carnal variety."

Osferth looked as if he prayed the ground would open and swallow him whole, his mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. I just rolled my eyes and set to the task of cleaning the now sticky tables.

Half an hour crawled by and when I made my way to the door, the room was empty. Disappointment settled heavy in my gut when I realized Osferth had left with his friends. But I supposed it was for the best. There wasn't much point in getting tangled up with him anyway, even if it promised to be a good time. I had learned through my time in Rumcofa that Danes and christians were like oil and water.

I stepped out into the drizzle, the moon obscured by heavy clouds, the torches that lit the way sputtering as raindrops hit the flames. Pulling the heavy door closed behind me, I jumped when a throat cleared in the dark.

"Hel take you," I snapped, my heart thundering, my hand coming to rest over my chest as if to keep it from bursting open.

Osferth looked at the ground, biting back a grin before he glanced back up at me. His hands were clasped behind his back and for a moment he looked younger than his years, a little unsure of where we went from here. I took no mercy on him, sidestepping him as I found the path that would lead me home. When he didn't move to follow me, I looked over my shoulder before jerking my chin forward. He smiled again and jogged to meet me, his steps falling in time with mine.

The earth was damp, wet seeping into the hem of my dress as we walked up the gently rolling hill toward my home. After being so insistent on my company, Osferth was quiet, his eyes darting between me and the road ahead, his face pensive.

“You are thinking so hard I can hear it,” I teased, nudging his shoulder with my own. My house loomed before us, our walk coming to an end.

“I was just wondering…,” he trailed off.

“Wondering what?”

“If it would be alright if I came inside.” Even in the dark, with just the pale light of the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, I could see the blush that stained his cheeks.

“Are you sure you would not rather spend your evening with Gudrun?” I asked, not entirely joking. I wasn’t interested in being forgotten as soon as the sun rose, like the rumors said Osferth had a tendency to do. But there was something about this monk, this fighter, that had pulled me in since I first laid eyes on him. “She lives just over there.” I pointed to a house on our right, candlelight flickering through the window. “Or Elfreda? Her husband is still gone to Mercia. She speaks of you fondly.”

“Fond is not necessarily the word I would use, Lady.” His eyes found mine as we stopped outside my door. "I have no idea how she speaks of me. In truth, we’ve had one conversation…about her goats."

Something small and warm lit up in my chest. “You have never…?”

“Not with Gudrun or Elfreda.”

“Well that’s something, I suppose,” I said, a fragile smile curling at the edges of my mouth. “You can come in, but I will hear nothing about my heathen ways, monk.”

He grinned and it went to my head, leaving my fingertips tingling with the desire to touch him, to make him grin again. “Osferth will do, Lady. And after spending so much time with Lord Uhtred, I would never think to say a word about your ‘heathen ways’.”

I smiled back and shouldered open the door, gesturing for him to enter first. It was strange to see Osferth in my space, which was really just a large room I'd done my best to make comfortable. It held a hearth with a pot for cooking, a bed in the corner piled with furs and blankets, and a small table in the center of the room for meals. I made quick work of a fire, the sound of logs crackling filling the silence. For a man who had a tendency to blend in most places, Osferth stood out stark in the doorway. His sharp blue eyes darted around the room, taking in each detail, snagging on Frejya’s rune carved into the doorframe.

“What is this?” He asked, running a long finger over the lines. I was mesmerized by the grace of his hand, large and scarred and still so gentle as he traced over the carving.

“Fehu,” I answered, stepping up behind him, nearly close enough to touch. “Freyja is the goddess of love, but also of death and battle. She instructs us to have strength, to know our own worth. It is a reminder for me.”

He turned and it was impossible not to lean into the heat of him. A shy smile pulled at his lips and suddenly all I could think of was kissing him. I wondered if he would be any good at it or if he was as well practiced as rumors would have me believe. He cleared his throat. "It's good to believe in oneself." He raised a hand, trailing his thumb over my cheek. "What else do you believe in, Lady?" His eyes were dark, like a storm over the sea, and for a moment I forgot how to speak.

"Odin tells us to always seek knowledge."

"And Odin is like God?" He asked, his gaze falling to my mouth.

I grinned. "Yes and no. He is king of the gods, for a time. We make sacrifices to him, but also Frig, to look after our fate, and Freyr to bless our harvests, and Thor for protection. And one day Ragnarok will come and the world will be washed away to start anew."

"Like the great flood," he murmured, stepping closer. "A man was told by God to build a boat, to gather his family and two of every animal and prepare for a long journey. Then he flooded the world to give them a fresh start."

My hands rose to his chest, fingers pressing into the leather armor he wore, embossed with the shape of a cross. "I wonder how lonely it would be to be the last two people on earth. It seems like quite a responsibility."

Osferth made a low noise in the back of his throat, as if he was considering me. He stepped forward, backing me up until my legs met the table. "Lady?"

My gaze danced between his eyes and his lips, parted softly around a breath. "Yes?"

"I would like to kiss you now."

A heat rose up in me, from my fingertips and toes, melting inward, and I thought for a moment I might be glowing with it. "I think you should."

"Oh, thank Christ," he muttered, his large hands coming to cup my jaw, his lips crushing against mine. He wasn't as gentle as I had anticipated, as if he knew I wasn't gentle either and hoped to meet me in the middle.

His hands abandoned my face to grasp at my waist and heave me up onto the table before he stepped between my knees. He tasted sweeter than I imagined as I curled my hands in the blond hair at the nape of his neck, holding him to me. Wrapping me in his arms, wiry and lean, he stepped closer, pressing me back and holding me to him. If he let go I would fall.

I prayed he wouldn’t let go.

Osferth took my bottom lip between his teeth, biting down, his fingers digging into the meat of my waist and pulling himself forward into the cradle of my pelvis. I could feel him beneath the thick fabric of his robes, straining toward me. Without thought, I reached between us and cupped him, flexing my fingers around the outline of his cock, stroking and getting a feel for him. He moaned, breaking the kiss, resting his forehead against mine.

“Lady.” His voice was rough in his mouth, his breath warm against my face. “Keep doing that and I won’t be able to help myself from laying you over this table.”

I nuzzled at the cut of his jawline. “Lay me down then, monk.”

His eyes were dark when he pulled back, his lips pulled into a thin line as he regarded me. He nodded, more to himself than to me, before tugging at the laces at the back of my dress. I gasped at his hidden strength, lurching forward and catching myself against his chest. He pulled the laces loose and let the sleeves fall slack, leaning down to press a soft kiss against the skin of my shoulder. I attempted to make quick work of the clasps that held his armor on, rejoicing in the thud as it hit the floor. He tore the robe he wore over his head, dropping it beside the breast plate before helping me to wriggle out of my dress. When I was bare before him, he loomed over me, and my mouth watered at the fine cut of his body. He was tall and lean, all sharp angles and hard planes, and I ached to touch every inch of him.

Osferth tugged me to the edge of the table before falling to his knees. His eyes met mine for a split second before he leaned forward and licked a stripe up the center of me. The flat pass of his tongue left me reeling and I was torn between the desire to drop back and enjoy the sensation and the need to watch him, to memorize the way he looked as he tasted me.

Rough hands spread my thighs farther apart before reaching higher, holding the very center of me open, leaving me vulnerable. Osferth groaned at the sight, a small pained sound, before leaning forward and devouring me. He was messy, spreading the slick that had gathered, moaning when his nose dragged over that tight bundle of nerves and my back bowed off the table. He slid two fingers in easily, and I dropped my head back, my hands finding his hair and tangling in the sandy strands.

"More," I gasped, biting the word out from between clenched teeth. I felt him smile against me, a slow wicked curve of his mouth, as he pressed a third finger inside and stretched me open. His lips latched on to that spot that had me crying out and it took nothing else for me to find my release, my hips bucking against his face for more even as the feeling became too much, too sharp. I twitchted and shuddered as sparks danced over my skin and still he licked and sucked at me.

My stomach tumbled over itself when Osferth rose to stand over me, my slick glistening on his chin, the light from the fire painting him beautifully.

"I think I'd like to take you to bed now, Lady," he said and held out a hand. I accepted and let him pull me to standing, his hands capturing my face as soon as my feet were steady on the floor, his mouth catching mine in a feverish kiss that I could taste myself on. "You taste divine," he murmured against my lips.

I walked backward toward the bed, pulling him with me before turning and pushing him gently back against the furs. He dropped, resting his weight on his elbows. "I think I'd like to return the favor," I mused, my eyes unable to settle, too distracted by each ripple of lean muscle as he unlaced his trousers, lifting his ass to slide them down his thighs. Light hair was dusted over his legs, shining in the glow from the hearth. He was more lovely than any of the paintings the little church in town boasted as he watched me with hooded eyes. The mattress dipped beneath my added weight as I settled between his knees, taking his cock in hand and stroking. Osferth groaned when I tightened my grip.

I took him between my lips and he moaned, his hands finding the back of my head. Our eyes met and he licked his lips, sucking in a sharp breath as I took as much of his length as I could. He tasted like salt and skin, tangy against my tongue as I twisted it around the tip of him. His hips bucked and he slid down my throat. I couldn't stop the gag the motion triggered and he groaned again at the feeling. I let him hold my head still, sliding in and out of my mouth at a languishing pace, as if he were using my body to tease himself, to take himself to that edge only to pull back at the last moment.

"God above, Lady," he grunted, trying to pull back. He caught me under the arms and dragged me up his body, his hands finding the soft flesh of my hips and belly as he kissed me deep and slow. It was an easy kiss to melt into. Osferth laid me back against the furs and settled between my thighs, the hard ridge of his cock sliding through my slit. I angled my hips upward, hoping to catch him, to pull him inside. He pushed forward just an inch, the very tip of him barely breaching me. I thought I would scream. I thought I would break apart and scatter to the winds if he didn't fill me, if he didn't move.

"Don't be cruel," I whined. Reaching up, I grabbed the cross that he wore around his neck, using the cord to pull him closer.

His hand came down on my hip as I tried to shift, to take him deeper. "Hush, Lady," he murmured. "We have all the time in the world." He pulled back, only to tease me again with the barest hitch forward.

"Osferth, please. Please, I'll do whatever you want just - gods, please, fuck me."

I didn't know if it was the whimper of his name or the begging, but without warning, he buried himself in me and I thought I would break open around him. "Christ, you're so tight," he moaned, his breath coming in pants against my temple. "Feels like I'll split you in half."

His words woke something within me, something dark and hungry. "Do it," I whispered. "Break me. Do whatever you want."

Osferth growled, the sound like some great beast, as he bent his body around mine and began to fuck me in earnest. His teeth found my shoulder and he bit down, pain blooming hot and sudden as I felt the skin split beneath his teeth. He rutted into me and I was sure I would feel him for days, sore and aching and needy for more of him.

"Lady." The word was so close to a whimper that I couldn't help the moan it pulled from my chest, the way my nails raked over the freckled skin of his back. He kissed the wound left behind by his teeth before dragging his lips over my collarbone, one large hand clutching at my breast, bringing it to his mouth to pull my nipple between parted lips. This time he bit down more gently, just a scrape of teeth against sensitive flesh.

I was close, too close to warn him, to say anything. My back arched as I clenched around him, attempting to pull him deeper, to lock him within my body and never let him part from me. "Osferth," I panted, color bursting behind my eyelids. "Osferth."

"Christ, Lady, you'll be the end of me." His hips had lost their rhythm, grinding now, searching out his own release. "I want to fill you up, to feel myself spill in you."

The idea was delicious. I twisted my legs around his slim hips, unwilling to let him go. "Yes," I whispered, meeting his darkened gaze, his mouth falling open as his brows bunched in pleasure. I would make a tea in the morning to ensure there were no consequences, but I needed this, needed him. He kissed me, his tongue tangling around mine as he came, throbbing inside me as I clutched at him. "My Lady," he whispered against my mouth and I swallowed the words to keep forever inside me.

For a moment, we just laid there, our eyes meeting, darting away, and meeting again. Osferth dragged himself from the hold of my thighs and walked to the table, grabbing the clay pitcher I'd filled with water earlier in the day. He made his way back to the bed, dribbling some water over a cloth I tossed him and gently cleaning up the mess he'd made of me. After he set the pitcher back down and dropped the ruined rag beside it, he climbed back into bed beside me, dropping a kiss against my shoulder.

"I'm sorry for this." His voice was quiet as he traced a gentle fingertip over the wound in the shape of his mouth. "It's unlike me."

"I am happy to have a reminder of what we did tonight."

His blue eyes were soft, unsure, as they met mine. He swallowed, his hand coming to cradle the curve of my jaw. "Forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, Lady, but I don't want just tonight with you."

"Forgive you?" My heart thundered in my chest, so loud I was sure he could hear it. "The whores of Rumcofa will mourn for weeks if I choose to keep you," I teased, grinning up at him.

"I think my involvement with the 'whore's of Rumcofa' has been greatly overstated," he pouted, rolling his eyes.

"Is that so?"

Osferth nodded, leaning forward to press his lips to mine. "It is."

I sighed. "I suppose you can stay then." He smiled against my mouth and something warm took root in my belly at the feeling.

He rolled on top of me fully, peppering kisses to my cheeks and neck and chest, settling his weight between my thighs as I laughed. "On my honor, Lady, you won't regret it."

#osferth x reader #osferth #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #my fic

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