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sunonyoreface · 1 year

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One Cot - Simon “Ghost” Riley

Hi there, this story is a one shot about Simon Riley. I haven’t played COD before and I don’t know much about his character, but I love the thought of tough men being soft.

Summary: You help Ghost on a cold night and he returns the favour.

Word count: 2398

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: none, fluff.

Crews like task force 141 aren’t the type to pack extra cots. They don’t need them. Because crews like 141 don’t make a habit of bringing home extra bodies. There’s only ever one scenario when they have extra cots. Luckily for them, tonight’s not one of those nights.

For me, however, that means another night on the floor with my ankle cuffed to the bottom of one of their cots in case I try to run.

Although I’m deemed non-violent, I’m also a flight risk. According to them at least.

According to me, I have no clue where we are or how I’d even survive away from them. I’ve got no money, no ID, no map or compass, or even the slightest clue how I’d escape. Regardless, the cuffs stay on.

My wrists face the same fate. But my hands are free enough to rake them through my damp hair, working them through the tangles. It’s a soothing feeling of normalcy in this strange place.

In his cot on the other side of the room, Soap waits for one of the other boys to return from the showers and trade off babysitting duty.

One thing I can say is that chivalry is not dead, because they allowed me to shower first. Not that it matters all that much. There’s no hot water anyway so there isn’t much of a benefit in going first. But it’s the thought that counts.

Ghost is the first one back. It’s strange not seeing him wear layers upon layers of tactical gear. Instead, he only wears dark jeans and a black henley. And the balaclava too. I’ve yet to see him take it off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he showered with it on. I don’t know that the other guys have seen him take it off either. They make comments sometimes, little jabs and jokes about how it never comes off. Ghost hardly notices though. Or maybe I should say hardly reacts. He’s stoic through it all, preventing any emotions from breaking through.

Soap leaves without a word. They understand their positions. So well, that half the time I think they’re communicating through their thoughts.

Ghost places a duffel bag on the cot I’m cuffed to. I sit cross-legged on a blanket on the floor as he ruffles through it.

His strong form towers over me two feet away. Ghost doesn’t make eye contact as I watch him search through the bag. He’s less threatening without the bulky gear and a gun in his hand. But that mask is still terrifying enough to find its way into your dreams.

However, it's not the mask that sets me on edge around Ghost, it’s his eyes. They’re cold and unwavering, giving away nothing. They’re the eyes of a killer. Of someone who enjoys inflicting pain. Of someone whose been in so much pain himself, his only release is passing it on to others.

He hasn’t bothered me that much since my first day with them all. Back when he was ready to put me down like a lame horse. I was a loose end that needed to be tied up. Still am, if I’m being honest. Price stopped him, but if it was up to Ghost, I’d have been dead for days now. Even now, I’m sure part of him wants to kill me knowing it’s the more logical option. But until then, he’s under orders to keep me alive.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a staring problem?” His rough voice breaks the silence. He rarely acknowledges me so for him to speak up must mean I’ve struck a nerve. My mouth suddenly feels dry.

“Just you,” I say. “Sorry.”

But I don’t look away. I continue to watch him search through the bag. I don’t know what he’s looking for but he can’t seem to find it. The tight sleeves of the Henley hug his strong arms. Even through the fabric, I can see the defined lines of his muscles. His posture is nearly perfect and his movements could almost be considered robotic.

“What’re you looking for?” He doesn’t seem like the type of person to misplace his things.

“Nothing,” he responds bluntly.

“Maybe it fell behind the cot. I can check for you?” I offer.

“Negative.”

“Are you sure beca-“

“Stop talking, y/n,” he snaps. I flinch at his response. As he says this he finally makes eye contact with me and I regret ever looking at him. There’s an anger in his eyes that no man I’ve ever met has been able to match. A deep-rooted hatred for the world and all of its inhabitants. It’s not a look that you’re born with. It’s one that’s carved from years of pain and betrayal. He’s witnessed the type of things that would break most people. The intensity of his gaze is too much. I break eye contact to stare at the floor.

Fine. I won’t try to help.

I lean against the cement wall and try to think about anything else. I press my hands to the inside of my thighs in an attempt to warm them up.

When they found me I was only in ripped shorts and a ratty tank top with nothing else to my name.

Since then some of the men spared me a set of long johns, a long sleeve shirt, and a pair of thick socks. I’m not allowed shoes in case I try and take off. It’s better than what I had but the warehouse is cold and the cement floor seems to suck out any heat my body produces.

Ghost angrily zips up the duffel bag and tosses it on the floor at the other end of the cot. I watch the bag skid for a foot before finally coming to a stop.

He climbs onto the cot with a dissatisfied grunt. Ghost sleeps with his head on the far side of the cot and his feet at the end I’m cuffed to. He doesn’t take his shoes off. None of them do. In fact, I’m surprised he isn’t sleeping with more gear on. Some days they’ll all sleep in their tactical gear as if they’re waiting to be attacked. Part of me is relieved they don’t feel as though that’s a threat tonight.

I can hear voices echo down the halls. Some of the others must be done in the showers.

I lie down on my makeshift bed: a pillow and a blanket that I fold in half to act as a mattress and duvet.

When I lie down, however, something shiny catches my eye under Ghost’s cot.

It’s a tiny chain. A necklace.

On my hands and knees, I crawl under his cot to grab the necklace.

“What’re you doing?” Ghost mumbles above me. I hear him shift his weight against the rough canvas fabric.

When I back out from under the cot, he’s sitting with his legs off the edge. Suspiciously eyeing my movements. His right hand is in one of his pant pockets probably wrapped around a knife in case I try something.

I kneel in front of the bed beside his legs. My damp hair clings to my neck and the tip of my nose is red and cold.

I raise the chain up to Ghost. His eyes latch on immediately.

“Is this it?” I ask. He eyes me suspiciously. I see him searching for any signs of deceit. Maybe I lied to him and hid the chain from him. Maybe I pickpocketed him before he went to shower. But I didn’t do any of those things. I hold his eye contact this time. His brows soften ever so slightly. It seems to be enough.

Ghost doesn’t say anything. Instead, he simply grabs the chain from my hand. His fingers brush against my palm as he scoops it up. He examines it a moment before slipping it over his neck and tucking it under his shirt.

I don’t know why but I was hoping for a thank you. Or at least an acknowledgment that I’d helped. But Ghost remains silent. At the same time, the voices reach the room. Roach and Gaz round the corner from the hallway.

At their entrance, I turn back to my makeshift bed and pretend to sleep. It’s not that I don’t like them - although I don’t, in fact, I don’t like any of them - but I don’t have the energy for more questions from them tonight.

I hear Ghost shift in his cot and it seems our thoughts are on the same track.

As hard as I try, sleep doesn’t come. They shut off the main lights over an hour ago, yet I still haven’t calmed down enough to drift off. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop shivering from the cold.

The warehouse remains utterly silent except for the light snores and breathing of the men. Only the emergency lights fill the corners of the room with dim, orange light. They’re almost comforting in a way.

I pull the single blanket tighter around my shoulders and ball up even smaller if that’s possible, but nothing helps. My bones shake and my teeth rattle. If only I had another blanket.

The cot next to me creaks as Ghost shifts in his sleep. It creaks some more and then I notice he’s sitting up.

Ghost spares a glance in my direction as he rummages through his pocket for something.

Something silver glints in the light and I realize it’s a key. He wordlessly tosses it in my direction and by some stroke of luck, I catch it mid-air.

It’s the key to the cuffs. I spare an uneasy glance in his direction. He wants me to uncuff myself?

Ghost doesn’t react. Instead, he watches as I process my thoughts, as I push through my weariness and unlock my ankles first before freeing my wrists.

I reach to pass the key back to him but instead of grabbing the key, his large hand wraps completely around my wrist and tugs me in close.

I’m face to face with him as his other hand wraps around my jaw so I can’t pull away.

“If you try to run, I’ll kill you,” his low voice is barely above a whisper. The edge to his tone makes the threat feel all the more real.

“Okay,” I nod in response. My heart is racing and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.

“Come here. Bring your blanket,” he motions to the cot. I spare a glance at the narrow bed. Surely he doesn’t want to share it with me? There’s barely enough room for one person let alone two.

“I don’t know,” I whisper back as though it’s an option. I don’t know where he’s going with this suggestion and I don’t think I trust him.

“That’s an order, y/n,” his response does nothing to ease my soul, but I grab my blanket anyway and crawl onto the cot.

It’s now he notices my hesitancy. How I purposely leave space between us on the bed. That I’m unsure of why he wants me up here. The fogginess of his intentions.

“I can't sleep with the sound of your teeth rattling in my ears all night,” nothing changes in my expression so he tries again, his tone softer this time. “You’re safe, y/n. I’m safe. Nothing’s going to happen.”

I sigh in relief but don’t say anything in response. He knows.

“C’mere,” he lifts the blanket for me to slide in. The warmth immediately welcomes me into the space.

The cot is more narrow than a twin mattress and leaves little to no wiggle room for two people. I’m pressed tightly into Ghost's chest as his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer and preventing me from falling off.

I thought I’d be tense but the heat under the blankets completely relaxes me. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. His balaclava is soft against my cheek. I hear his breathing pick start to pick up. I can feel his chest expand deeper than before.

“Thank you,” my voice is barely audible, but I know he heard.

As I adjust to our proximity, I breathe in the scents that linger on his skin and in his clothes. I can smell the same standard citrusy shampoo on him as myself and the rest of the crew use. But there’s also a remainder of smoke and gunpowder from the day’s work. There’s something else more unique to him and yet I can’t put my finger on it. I take a deep breath and allow myself to revel in the calming smells. This shouldn’t be comforting and yet it is.

Nothing about this situation should be comforting and yet I feel safer than I have in weeks.

Wrapped in Ghost's arms, I know nothing else in the world can get to me. My only danger is the man who holds me. Yet I know in this instance after he’s sacrificed his space and his bed for me, that I’ve got nothing to worry about.

Ghost shifts against the canvas again. This time pulling me on top of him as he spreads out across his cot. He wraps his arms around my back he readjusts for the final time. I feel so small on top of him. Ghost spreads a hand out across my lower back and it feels as though it takes up the entire width of the space. His thumb soothingly brushes back and forth along the arch of my spine.

I lay my head on his chest and listen to the thrum of his heart. It beats strong and steady like a bass drum. I feel myself relaxing even more as my breathing starts to match his. I feel myself start to drift as my head lulls with his chest when it rises and falls.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t worry about what tomorrow brings. I’m so content in his arms that I don’t think about what’s next. All that fills my mind is the strength of his heartbeat and the distant scent of gunpowder. The last thing I think about before finally nodding off is the feeling of his thumb brushing up and down along my back, letting me know everything is going to be alright.

Edit+A/N: I have never received this much attention on a story before so thank you!! When I have time should I write more for Ghost?

Fic based on this concept:

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randxmthxughts · 1 year

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Captain Save a Hoe - Tsu'tey x Avatar!Reader

i know, i know, the title...

summary: grumpy tsu’tey having to take care of a clumsy avatar!reader, and eventually warming up to her // tsu'tey being a captain-save-a-hoe for 1.7k words straight

wc: 1.7k

a/n: basically, i didn't know where to go with this, so i'm posting it like a blurb bc you guys told me to. there won't be a continuation to this, i just love grumpy tsu'tey, he's so hot

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Watch your feet,” Tsu’tey throws an angry glance at you, as you stumble through the thick bushes, trying to catch up to him.

Tsu’tey didn’t like dreamwalkers, hell, he almost killed one a few years back, if he hadn’t been stopped. But Tsu’tey especially didn’t like the ones that were awkward and weak in their disguised bodies, asking stupid questions, and constantly getting themselves into trouble. So of course, he was angry when Jake ordered him to keep an eye on you.

“Tsu’tey,” you breathe out, “Please wait for me.”

Despite the strength that your new body possesses, you struggle to keep up with Tsu’tey, feeling like a helpless child in comparison. He walks fast, treating this like another mission that he desperately wants to get over with. Tsu’tey doesn’t really care that Jake welcomed you into the clan for the help you offered. Or that the maps you've made could save the Omaticaya from future attacks by the sky people. What are a few more attacks on him? Tsu’tey relished in destroying the massive flying ships, he could go against them without your help any day.

From the moment you embarked on your journey to the science facility to retrieve some of your equipment, it seemed like Tsu’tey’s luck had run out. As if for some reason Eywa had cursed him, making his journey with you longer and tiresome.

At first, he resented the idea of sharing his direhorse with you, since you hadn’t learned how to ride one yet. He also hated how you would cling to his middle, whenever he sped up, and restricted his movements. If only you had kept quiet, he could have tolerated you more, but instead, you occasionally tried to pry into his past.

“So, why don’t you have a mate?”

“She was killed by one of your demons.”

“Oh.”

Two hours in, Tsu’tey decided to stop by the river to give his horse a short break. As you crouched down by the water, examining the way it bubbled, Tsu’tey observed you in silence. He thought you were strange-looking, but not like Jake. To him, Jake was ugly. You had something intriguing about your appearance. Pretty, although Tsu’tey had a hard time getting used to it. But the compliment he wanted to grant you was immediately pushed to the back of his mind when he heard your frightened scream. You noticed an arachnoid crawling up your thigh and shrieked out of fear, violently shaking your leg to get it off. Spooked by your sudden outburst, the horse loudly neighed and fled through the air. Tsu’tey quickly jumped to his feet, but when he saw the reason for your shrieks, he felt his blood boil. In your defense, you had heard stories of poisonous arachnids of Pandora and you weren’t taking any chances.

So here you are, trudging along behind, with ears pressed flat against your skull. Tsu’tey had scolded you, blaming your weak spirit for the consequences. Since you were too far from the Hometree, and the horse was long gone, you had to continue the rest of the journey on foot. Which meant more hours spent with you.

The silence that follows is almost unbearable, broken only by the sound of your footsteps and the occasional rustling of leaves. What Tsu’tey did not expect was for you to be so slow. He almost gave up on the plan, contemplating going back to the village and fetching another horse. He even entertained the thought of taming a palulukan in case of an attack. In the worst case, he'd end up dead and wouldn’t be forced to care for you for another minute.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As the day wears on, and the sun starts to set, casting a warm orange glow on the surroundings, you decide to voice your concern.

“Do you think we’ll make it to the facility by night?”

Tsu’tey throws a glance at you over his shoulder, letting out a bitter chuckle. You grimace at his reaction.

“Got it,” you bite your lip.

He comes to a stop, and begins scanning the area around him. You wait for further clarification but he ignores you completely, then starts gathering twigs into a small cone.

“We will camp for the night,” he finally says, gesturing at you, “Gather some more, and stay here. I will be back soon.”

You discover that ‘soon’ meant different things to you and Tsu’tey. While you assumed he would be out hunting, the chilly air made you decide to start the fire and keep an eye on it, so it doesn’t die out. You hadn’t realized how tired you were, the warmth radiating from the small fire was making your eyelids droopy. You tried to resist sleep to prove to Tsu’tey that you were capable, but you couldn't hold out much longer, nestling on the ground.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Tsu’tey nudges you awake with a gentle touch, and you catch a whiff of a delicious aroma. As you open your eyes, you see him crouching in front of you, holding a piece of meat wrapped in leaves. Your mouth waters at the sight, and you eagerly take it from his hands and devour it. Tsu’tey can't help but chuckle, as he watches the satisfied grin spread across your face.

“Slow down,” he says softly, motioning for you to take a seat next to him, closer to the fire.

You watch him roast a smaller piece of meat and put it in his mouth. Instead of savoring the taste, Tsu’tey chews on it while continuing cutting up more pieces. You feel a little guilty that he prepares food for the both of you but doesn’t take a moment to enjoy it.

“Can I help?” you ask, moving closer to him.

He doesn’t answer, instead pointing to the knife on your belt. When you take it out, Tsu’tey pierces a piece of meat on the sharp tip, and motions for you to hold it over the fire. You follow his orders, watching the meat slowly cook as the aroma hits your nostrils and your stomach grumbles.

This must be the first time he sees you do something right. Tsu’tey nods approvingly as he watches you carefully turn the meat over the fire, your knife skillful in your hands. A comfortable silence hangs over you, as you both start eating.

“We will continue our journey early in the morning,” he breaks the silence, “We must move quickly and return back as fast as we can. ‘Don’t want to camp out in the forest for another night, it can be dangerous.”

You only nod, agreeing with his plan. It was rare for him to keep you informed anyway, so you weren’t going to doubt Tsu’tey.

“You don’t trust that I can help, do you?”

“I am not sure,” he admits, “But if Toruk Makto trusts you, I can give you a chance to prove yourself.”

“Your prejudice against me is ironic,” you scoff, “Jake was just like me once, before becoming Toruk Makto.”

“Not just like you,” Tsu’tey chuckles, shaking his head, “You are too weak.”

“I am smart,” you argue.

Tsu’tey hums in agreement. There is some truth to his words, you have shown weakness. Adapting to a completely new environment, getting used to another culture, suddenly being forced into hours of physical activity that you weren’t committed to. At times, it would get too much but the support of the clan was all the validation you needed to stay.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I’ll do anything to help your people,” you face him with new confidence, he hasn’t seen in you yet.

“You betray your own?” Tsu’tey frowns.

“I have no other choice. They are destroying everything because of greed,” you shake your head in disappointment. He nods.

“And your family? You left them too?”

“I don’t have one,” a bitter chuckle escapes from your lips, “They don’t claim me anymore. And I don’t claim them.”

“So they disowned you?”

“Pretty much,” you shrug, “They think that I am betraying them because I want to protect the life on Pandora.”

“It must take great strength to go against your family,” Tsu’tey compliments you.

You shy away from his softened gaze, warm feeling spreading in your chest from the kind words. It was tough to be one of the engineers who worked for RDA and had to betray them. But you couldn’t stand the idea of contributing to the destruction they were causing. It was why you first found Jake and warned him about the impending danger. And it was then when you first felt welcomed by the clan, cared for.

Now, you needed to sneak back into the facility and retrieve the equipment you left to track the future attacks. Tsu’tey was assigned to accompany you since it was dangerous to go alone. Even though most of the team at the facility shared similar opinions and wouldn't stop you, there was still a risk of encountering RDA guards. Getting caught would mean you could never return.

As the night wears on and the fire grows smaller and smaller, you and Tsu’tey continue to talk. You’re surprised by how he opens up to you, and how he doesn’t protest when you tell him about your past. Eventually, you feel your eyes growing heavy and your head nodding off to the side. Tsu’tey notices and stays up to keep an eye on you, making sure you’re safe while you sleep.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When you wake up in the morning, you feel slightly restricted around your middle. You huff slightly, trying to move, as you realize that Tsu’tey is sleeping beside you, with his leg thrown over yours, and his arms wrapped around you. The closeness of his body sends a flush of heat to your cheeks, and you feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Tsu’tey,” you nudge him, “Wake up.”

It doesn’t take much to rouse him. You guess that, as a warrior, he was trained to be sensitive to sounds around him. Tsu’tey grunts heavily before blinking a few times, adjusting his eyes to the light. When he realizes how close your face is to his, he almost recoils.

"For someone who seems to hate me, you're very protective," you tease him, patting his arms playfully.

“Mhm, couldn’t risk you rolling into the fire in your sleep,” he grumbles, freeing you from his grasp.

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miroana · 9 months

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Elite moments in the Odyssey

A curated selection of my favorite details in this silly epic that changed storytelling forever. Homer is hilarious.

- Whenever anyone asks Odysseus where he’s from and he seizes the opportunity to lie continuously for several pages.

- Victims of his elaborate, entirely false backstories include: the cyclops, the suitors, the swineherd, the goddess Athena (who immediately calls bull), his son, his wife, and his father. Odysseus just loves lying

- Every time Athena makes Odysseus hotter and taller so he can rizz someone up

- His brilliant strategy to survive Charybdis’ whirlpool (cling to fig tree “like a bat”)

- When Telemachus casually drops that he is well aware that Mentor is actually Athena and she pretends not to hear and continues to act like she’s just some guy

- When Odysseus falls asleep while the Phoenicians give him a lift home, and instead of waking him when they reach Ithaca, the sailors just pick up the corners of his blankets to dump him on the shore and leave

- Odysseus subsequently waking on a random beach and spending several pages violently confused until Athena, slapping her forehead, has to appear to tell him what’s going on

- Penelope’s weaving and unweaving of the tapestry to get out of marrying the suitors. it’s so stupid that it’s brilliant

- When Odysseus goes to the land of the dead and Achilles and Patroclus appear together <3

- That time Odysseus and Athena sit down on a rock together to plot and scheme etc

- When the maid who raised Odysseus recognizes the gigantic scar he used to always brag about and he grabs her by the neck and tells her to shut the hell up. Elegant elegant man

- Odysseus’s dog who stayed alive for over 20 years so he could lay eyes on him before dying on the spot

- Every time someone says bro you’re kind of hot for a beggar and Odysseus says yeah I know right?

- When Circe was like oh dude I can’t kill you? Guess I’ll sleep with you

- “‘You bitch!’ retorted the ready-witted Odysseus”

- Penelope later calls this maid a bitch too

- When Odysseus avoids competing in the Phoenician games until one of the Phoenicians calls him weak and lazy. so he thoroughly wipes the floor with them

- The sheer number of boats Odysseus crashed

- The sheer number of times Odysseus started sobbing in public

- When one of the Suitors smacks beggar Odysseus with a stool and it takes everything in him to not go insane on them

- Every time Odysseus anonymously gasses Odysseus up

- And last, but not in any way least, the Trojan horse plan. We all know it. We all love it. But take a step back and think for a moment how delightfully absurd it is

#the odyssey #odysseus #penelope #telemachus #athena #the iliad #homer #greek mythology #tagamemnon

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highvern · 6 months

Text

adamas et aurum

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: gross domestic fluff, boyfriend mingyu

Length: ~1.7k

Note: more Drunk Goggles couple bc im beating a dead horse. idk why i do this to myself :) crying :) in :) the :) club :)

read more here

“You owe me a kiss.”

“Oh, do I?”

Mingyu huffs, face covered in sweat, backwards hat matting his hair to his skull, bare chest rose-colored from the fiery sun and swampy humidity. You’ve both spent all morning moving boxes to and fro so he’s about two seconds away from laying down on the floor for a much needed nap. When it came to heavier stuff, Mingyu insisted you stay and start unpacking the necessities so the apartment would at least be somewhat functional around all the mess. He didn’t have the heart to tell you that his shredded patience couldn’t handle any more of your help. Thank god some of the guys are coming over tomorrow to help him with the furniture.

Because of his chivalry, you’ve stayed cool in the AC, humming to the music blasting from a speaker in the kitchen as you work to make the new space a home. All the while Mingyu slaves away to lug in stuff he doesn’t remember either of you owning.

“Boyfriend tax.”

“Ahhhh,” you nod.

Jumping up on your toes, you deliver a cartoonishly wet smack on his lips as a thank you for his hard word.

“How’s it going?”

“Bathroom is mostly unpacked but we need to get some bins to organize under the sink. Oh! And the beds made too!” You chirp, turning back to your task of wiping out the cabinets and drawers of your new kitchen. “If you wanna wash up and lay down, I’ll order something to eat.”

“You’re the best.” he sighs, stepping into the space behind you, chest against your back, face tucked into the curve of your shoulder, hands grasping the edge of the counter on each side of your hips.

“My man works hard, gotta take care of him.” You praise, twisting your neck to drop a kiss to his temple causing you to get a whiff of his sweat.

“Now go shower, you stink.”

“Hey!” Mingyu objects, face moving over your shoulder so he can look at you. “I’m sorry I’ve been roleplaying as your hot shirtless mover for the last two hours. Bust my butt and this is how you thank me?”

Turning to face him, you tangle your arms around his neck, linking your hands behind his head and pulling him into a bear hug. His palms slide around the sensitive skin of your back, pulling you closer as your shirt sticks to his sweaty chest uncomfortably where you press together. But that doesn’t matter right now. Right now, you’re together, in the new apartment you share, starting the next chapter of your lives.

“Thank you, Mingyu. I love you.” You whisper into his collarbone.

“Damn right.” He mumbles, tilting his head down to drop a sweet peck to your mouth, arms giving a tight squeeze before swatting at your ass as he turns towards the bedroom.

“Hey!”

“Boyfriend tax!” He calls over his shoulder, amusement bubbling in his voice.

Your eyes trail after him, heart swelling as it begins to fully register what you’ve done. He’s here and his name is on the lease next to yours; your matching keys hanging by the door, assigned parking spots downstairs next to each other. Mingyu just went into your shared bedroom, to take a shower in your shared bathroom, and tonight you’ll curl up beside him in your shared bed.

Wonwoo moving in with his girlfriend has been the catalyst for the much needed conversation. Mingyu had essentially been living out of your apartment for months already, only returning to his own place every few days for fresh clothes or to see his friend. When his roommate told him he was planning to move out after their lease ended in four months you simply scoffed at his distress about where to live.

“You basically live with me anyway.” You mumbled, not thinking about what the statement implied.

“I—,” he gapes. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

“I just mean, you already stay here so much anyway.” You grumble, suddenly feeling awkward in his hold.

“Can you just ask me nicely?” He whines. “I wanna be romanced.”

Humoring him, you slide to the floor in front of the couch you two had been draped across. Dropping to one knee, you cup your hands together in a makeshift box like you’re proposing. Your eyes round and brows raise, attempting and failing to give him an earnest expression.

“Kim Mingyu, love of my life, future father of my children, bane of my existence. Will you do me the honor of moving in with me?”

“Bain of your existence?”

“Focus.” You snap your fingers. “Will you move in with me?”

“Duh,” he beams, tackling you to the ground and snaring you in a bear hug as you squeal in delight.

Your friends had warned you about signing a lease together; that no matter how many nights Mingyu stays at your apartment (twenty three in a row is his record), when you call the same place home things will be different. And all of his bad habits won’t change just because he’s living with his girlfriend. If anything they may get worse because it's his home now too and he’s no longer a long staying guest.

You already knew that Mingyu tends to leave the seat up after using the bathroom, and will collapse with laughter if you fall in; that he insists on burying his cold feet under your butt when sitting on the couch, occasionally wiggling his toes just to piss you off; and how he will put the carton of milk back in the fridge even if there's only a drop left no matter how many threats against his person you make.

But Mingyu also sets his alarm ten minutes earlier than needed so he can hold you in bed before starting the day, basking in each others drowsy warmth before braving the world outside the sheets; he frequently insists you sit between his legs on the floor and let him dry your hair after you shower, gently combing his fingers through it, sometimes twisting the locks into messy braids or buns with his clumsy hands; how he’ll surprise you with a candle light dinner, insisting you both dress up even though your sitting at the kitchen table on a Tuesday eating reheated leftovers, just because he can.

No matter how annoying his bad habits are, the good ones are worth their weight and more in gold.

A shockingly girlish shriek shatters your daydream.

Hightailing it to the bathroom, you spot your stark naked boyfriend through the plastic of the shower liner, quivering in the corner of the stall like a leaf blowing in the wind.

“What’s wrong?”

“Its fucking hot!” He cries, over his shoulder, trying to shield his body from the spray by curling into the tiled wall.

Heaving a sigh of relief and annoyance, you can’t help rolling your eyes as you step towards the front of the tub and twist the faucet, adjusting to a cooler temperature for him so he doesn’t have to stick his arm through the scalding rain.

“Big baby,” you grumble before heading back to the kitchen.

“I heard that!”

“You were supposed to!”

Mingyu shuffles into the bedroom, towel draped low on his waist, beads of water falling from his hair to his collarbone as he looks for the duffle bag he packed with clothes for the next few days; but the scene before him stops him in his tracks. The sun from the window casts the room in a buttery yellow, beams of light dappling your figure sprawled on the bed, mouth open slightly and hair a mess around your face. He leans a shoulder against the door frame, tired eyes full of love and mouth lifted in a gentle smile as his soulmate snores quietly a few feet away.

When you asked if he wanted to move in together, Mingyu lacked the self control needed to stop from jumping up and screeching like a kid in a candy store. The thought of living with his favorite person in the world had his heart tremble and his palms sweat. Despite all the oddities and quirks he learned about you in the past two years of dating, almost everyone warned him that you can’t really know someone till you live with them. He thinks the months before today had prepared him for the inevitable annoyances you two would face.

He’s accepted that you leave hair on the walls of the shower that eventually clog the drain, pooling water around his feet when he hops in the stall before work; how you push around takeout boxes and spoiled produce in the fridge for days instead of throwing them out; and that piles of unfolded laundry will sit on the edge of the couch for days on end until one day the planets align and you decide to re-organize your entire closet after folding the wrinkle garments.

Mingyu accepts all of those things because he also knows you like to surprise him by grabbing all the ingredients for a recipe he mentions wanting to try in passing, happily volunteering to be his sous chef and taste tester, insisting you both don the couple aprons his mom got you for Christmas; that when he isn’t feeling well you’ll scratch his back until he falls asleep with his cheek squished on your stomach while you fret over him; how you always wait up for him when he gets ready for bed, glazed eyes opening every few minutes to blink lazily, soft breath tickling the skin between his shoulder blades where your head lays only interrupted by an occasional sleepy kiss on his spine while he brushes his teeth.

His friends mentioned all the ways moving in together will change the way you see each other. But in the two years you’ve been dating, each time your relationship changed it's been for the better. When you two started hanging out on your own and he found his opinion on you shifting completely. When you admitted you liked each other and he learned you were a lot braver than he was. When you two fought for the first time and he realized that as brave as you were, you weren’t invincible. When he said he loved you for the first time by accident and discovered you were just as in this as he was. All the fights that challenged you to understand each other better, the struggles that strained your ability to take care of one another; all of it had changed your relationship but pressure makes a diamond.

A lot like the one he plans to give you when he asks if you want to change your relationship again one day.

#svthub #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu #svt smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #dghe couple #kim mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #🫡 highvern #OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH BOY

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bri-sonat · 3 months

Text

Bloodied Waters

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and slight violence, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, non-sexual nudity and intimacy. Slight canon deviation.

Synopsis: When Brienne returns covered in traces of battle, you give her comfort and safety - and a nice bath.

A/N: This has been sitting finished since July but I haven't wanted to post it for many reasons. For some reason I don't hate this fic anymore so I am taking the opportunity now so I can't revert back to my original state, lol. As per usual, English isn't my first language and all that.

Thank you to @daydream-cement for being the most supportive and encouraging friend I could ask for, and for reading this and giving me your opinion months ago.

Two months.

It had been two months since you had seen her last. Since she rode off to fight Gods knows what battle. In this time of uncertainty, you couldn’t be sure where she was sent off to anymore.

The imminent threat of the Night King and his army breaching The Wall weighed heavily on the land and it resulted in Brienne being away more than usual – but she had never been away this long.

You couldn’t be blamed when you began to wonder if she was still alive after the six-week mark and she hadn’t returned or been heard from. No one had from the company she had departed with. And when it hit eight weeks, your worries didn't get any better.

So, they were all either dead or still fighting for their lives. Those were the only reasons your stress-ridden brain could come up with.

If she had been removed from this mortal realm, she would have died alone. Alone somewhere. Probably in immense pain.

Even if it hurt you to even entertain the thought, you hoped her possible death had been fast. That way, she didn’t have to suffer.

Your heartbreaking thoughts were cut short by the sound of a horn, signaling that the group had returned and to open the gate. From your window, you could see a band of people on horses, three of them unmanned, which made you feel uneasy.

It was usually easy to spot Brienne in a crowd of people, but her straw-blonde hair was nowhere to be seen. The pit in your stomach that had been growing over the past weeks seemed to drop when you couldn’t find her.

Maybe the chance of her losing in battle was more probable than you had been willing to accept.

But until someone explicitly told you that she had perished in battle, you would have hope for her survival.

You witnessed as the gate was opened and the warriors rode in - the people and horses disappearing from view before the gate was once again closed.

Staring out the window and waiting for a knock on your door was only going to drive you mad, so you decided to pass the time in some other way.

Scurrying about your room, you tried finding something to do but restlessness got the better of you, and you soon found yourself waiting for that knock on the door that could either be the face of your love, or the worst possible news.

After fifteen minutes of silence, you started to land in the fact that she may not have returned, and the person who knew about your relationship was slowly making their way to your room to deliver the bad news.

You couldn’t take the agonizing pain so you left your room to venture for some hot water – hoping a nice hot bath might allow your tense body to relax. If even in the smallest bit.

When you returned to your room, hot water acquired, you were surprised to discover that there was no one waiting outside your door, nor had you met someone on your walk to or from. It was strangely silent.

The bath basin sitting in the adjacent room to yours looked more and more inviting by the second and you sprang into action before the water in your hands turned cold.

Pouring the large water cans with hot water into the vessel, you pondered how it would be to bathe with Brienne. How it would be to have such calm intimacy with the person you loved more than anything in this world.

The thought made you the tiniest bit sad and even if you wanted to keep the image in your head for as long as you could, you knew it was better to think about something else for now until you knew that the fantasy was a possibility.

You filled the rest up with the cold water from the large bucket next to the basin so it would even out to a nice lukewarm temperature.

Just as you were about to take your clothes off, a knock on the door disrupted your actions and you nearly ran to the door to open it – desperate for any piece of information regarding Brienne.

When you opened the door, you were met by a face you knew all too well, only this time, it was covered in dried blood, grime, and dirt. “Brienne, oh, Gods.”

You reacted quickly by ushering her inside your room and closing the door after her. She didn’t say a single word and her eyes were empty – apathetic and void of any emotion.

You didn’t know if the blood was hers or not but there was only one way to find out.

Carefully, you sat her down on your bed and undid her sword belt and fur cape before you began removing each piece of her dark armor, sneaking eventual glances at her emotionless face, your heart breaking each time she did not even make a move to look at you. She just stared dead ahead.

Never had you seen her like this before.

When all her armor was discarded, you were hit with the stench of iron, sweat, and mud – the smell of what you assumed to be battle. You moved your attention to her gambeson and gloves, working fast to get everything off to assess her condition – if she had been injured or not.

You remained quiet throughout your entire undressing of your girlfriend, if Brienne wanted to talk – she would. You assumed she needed some silence to process everything and just enjoy being back in a safe location.

The moment her gambeson and the rest of her clothing had been removed - you took hold of her dirty hands to guide her up to a standing position. You raked your eyes over her body and found nothing except for more blood, most likely having run down her neck and invaded the skin protected by the armor.

“The blood is not mine,” Brienne croaked out. The sudden noise made you jolt, your eyes snapping up to meet her desolate ones.

“Right...,” you responded, her statement confirming that she was not wounded in a way that would warrant blood. With your worries settled, you guided her to the other room. You had poured the bath for yourself, but she needed it more.

Slowly, she stepped in, her hand in a steadfast grip in yours as she descended into a sitting position until her entire body was underneath the surface – releasing a sigh once the water enveloped her.

You let go of her hand and grabbed a bar of soap sitting on the table next to the basin and she let the hand you had previously been holding fall under the water as well.

Brienne sat in the basin, staring into nothingness – her breathing slow. You rolled up your sleeves, kneeled next to the tub, and submerged the bar in the warm water before you began gently cleaning her skin from the stench and the mud and blood that tainted her soft skin.

Starting with her face and neck, you used your hands to gently apply the soap and you observed the suds turning a brownish red as it mixed with the blood and dirt on her skin.

As your eyes scanned her face, you noticed that her disheveled blonde hair had also been soiled by blood spatter and dried mud.

“Close your eyes.” It was a gentle command, and Brienne complied – closing her eyes without question.

Using a cloth, you dunked it in the water and allowed it to soak before wringing it out – bringing it to Brienne’s face to wipe away the lather. You dipped it in the water again to rinse it, but you caught a glimpse of it before you did – the color of the froth alien on the white fabric.

With her face now clean, you moved on to her hair.

Normally you’d utilize your own mixed hair wash for this, but you didn't wish to leave Brienne in her current state to go and collect it. Soap would have to do.

Your movements were slow and calculated as you pressed gently on the bottom of her chin, signaling for her to lean her head back. Brienne complied and tilted her head back and you maneuvered yourself so you could have the perfect view needed to wash her dirtied hair.

Utilizing one of the jugs you had carried the water with, you dipped it in the water to fill it up and used it to wet Brienne’s straw blonde hair, going over it once or twice before you were confident that all the strands were permeated.

You grabbed the bar of soap once again and dragged it against the palm of your hand – getting a decent amount on it before placing the bar to the side and rubbing your hands together. Tenderly, you started massaging the soaping into her blonde curls and scalp, making sure that all the dirt and blood loosened from her locks.

Brienne hummed as your hands mildly rubbed her head – adoring the alleviating feeling it gave her. The feeling of comfort and security. Her eyes were still closed, and she could feel the corners of her lips twitch the tiniest bit as you pressed a kiss to her forehead before moving to fill the jug with water to rinse the soap out of her hair.

You worked softly and slowly when you combed your fingers through her locks – pouring the water over her hair as you did, making sure that all the lather was washed away.

With her hair, face, and neck clean – it was time to wash the rest of her body.

You moved away from the head of the basin and switched to sit at the side of it again, kneeling next to it. You grabbed the bar of soap and immersed your hand into the water that was starting to turn red at this point and started to cautiously drag the bar across Brienne’s chest – removing all the dried blood and dirt.

Whilst one of your hands was in the water, the other one rested on the rim of the basin, right next to Brienne’s ear, and before you knew it, you felt her leaning her head against it. A small smile started playing on your lips at the intimate position you had found yourselves in.

You had never experienced this type of closeness with your knight before – it was incredibly heart-warming and you wouldn’t complain if you found yourself in this position again; without the blood and dirt, of course.

Brienne’s head rested against the back of your hand at the same time as yours worked on washing her arms, hands, chest, stomach – anywhere you had seen dried signs of battle.

You enjoyed every single second of the casual intimacy. The fact that there were still new ways to be so deeply close even after so many months made you incredibly giddy inside even when the situation you discovered it in was somber.

Like it had the entire time, the only thing filling the silence in the room was the splashing of the water as it hit the sides with your hand continuing to move as it scrubbed Brienne’s skin. It remained like that for a very long time until the blonde woman opened her mouth to speak for the second time since she had come home. Your hand that was scrubbing her sides halted briefly before continuing - her voice surprising you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You couldn’t help but inquire as to why she was thanking you. What you were doing right now only seemed like the most obvious choice. You took care of each other in any way the other person needed, and you were more than happy to offer her this small service.

She was quiet for a few seconds before she spoke again – her voice low, almost like a whisper. “For this... and for giving me a reason to keep fighting. It... It didn’t look very promising for a few moments, and I was... I was harboring the idea that I would never return to you again.”

You leaned forward to press a kiss to Brienne’s forehead as you continued scrubbing her skin beneath the surface of the water. “This is the least I can do for you... you take care of and for me every day. I wanted to return the favor. Thank you for coming back to me. And you’re welcome. I’m glad to provide you with a reason to keep fighting if it’ll bring you back to me each time.”

Brienne hummed and whined slightly when you removed your lips from her skin. To have someone care for her in the way you did made her feel so gleeful and she was so grateful for you and all you did for her. “Still... Thank you.”

“Anything for my knight.” You smiled as you washed her and finished your response – already knowing the next words coming out of her mouth.

The blonde woman chuckled slightly and silently, having had this exact interaction with you many times before. By now, she knew you did it as a way of making her smile and it worked; every single time. “I’m not a knight.”

“To me you are. You’re my knight.” You saw the smile that crept up on Brienne’s lips at hearing your words, even if she had heard them many times before at this point. “Besides, if you were a man, we both know you’d be a knight by now. You have the traits of a knight, so in my eyes, you are a knight. Even if you don’t have the title.”

Brienne adjusted her head to press a kiss to the back of your hand before returning to rest her cheek on it again. “You’re too nice to me. Thank you.”

“I only treat you in the way you deserve to be treated. Not my fault you’re such an incredible person.” You said this in a way that made Brienne smile and blush – something that you did with ease many times over the two years you had known the adorable knight. It only got worse once you began your relationship because it made you able to be more frank with your compliments.

The blonde didn’t offer a response to your words – silence filling the room once again. The way Brienne spoke about the battle, it seemed to have gone bad, so much so that she thought she wouldn’t make it. You knew she would talk to you about it if she needed to and you had no reason to ask but a part of you wondered what happened that caused her to see no hope.

The rest of the bath went by in tranquility, the occasional kiss on Brienne’s forehead and the planting of lips on your hand mixed with the comforting sounds of water making the second part of the experience a very pleasant one.

After helping Brienne out of the now red-stained water and planting her before the burning fire in the other room to dry with a fur wrapped around her, you told her to stay put before running as fast as you could to her room to collect her comb, and dry and clean clothes for her.

You didn't wish to leave her but the clothes she arrived in were bloody and dirty, and you knew Brienne would appreciate the gesture.

When you returned, she sat with her legs drawn up to her chest with her arms wound around them on the fur you had put on her.

You slowly approached her and sat down next to her – her folded clothes placed on your bed, the comb resting on the pile. “Hi.”

Her skin was dry now. Her hair was still a bit damp but you knew it wouldn’t be long until it was fully dried as well.

Brienne sighed and leaned her head against your shoulder. She stared into the crackling fire – the flames dancing in her beautiful blue eyes. “...Hi.”

“How are you feeling?” You wrapped an arm around her naked form and pulled her close to you. You had missed her so much and you were not ready to let go anytime soon except to get undressed to join her in bed.

“Better now... A little tired.” Brienne hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and she was exhausted at this point. The adrenaline had finally worn off completely and she felt the fatigue creep up on her like she had expected it to once she was back in your safe company.

“It’s getting late... Do you want to go to sleep? I will deal with the water tomorrow.” The sun had started setting as you were washing Brienne and it had been well below the horizon for a while now. You pressed a kiss to the top of the knight’s head and awaited her answer.

“Yes, please.” Brienne sat snuggly in front of the warm hearth, but she knew that it was much nicer to be in your embrace. It was warm, cozy, and oh-so-comfortable.

“Okay... Let’s get you covered and tucked in.” You stood up and began removing the things scattered about the bed. Brienne’s discarded armor, her dirty clothes, her cape, and her sword were swept off the mattress and placed on a round table close to the hearth. Her clean clothes and comb remained on the bed, and you squatted down next to her to lay a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want to get dressed?”

Brienne leaned her head against your hand and closed her eyes. “No. I want to feel you pressed against me entirely. I don’t want clothing to restrict me from sensing all of you.”

You almost melted from her sweet words. You rubbed your thumb against her skin, the pad of it grazing against the tip of one of her scars. “Alright, my sweet Brienne.”

The knight lifted her head from your hand and you slid it down her arm – leaving it to rest on her bicep. You gently rubbed it up and down as she opened her eyes and stood up.

You swiftly removed the pile that was on the bed and placed them on the table as well. You would have to comb her hair tomorrow instead.

With the bed empty, Brienne could pull off the furs and crawl in under them – covering her bare body and providing her with warmth and comfort for the first time in weeks.

She laid on her back as she watched you undress, folding your clothes and placing them on top of your trunk.

You finally crawled into bed and cuddled up next to Brienne, her skin incredibly soft. She hummed as you slung one arm and leg over her torso, bare skin against bare skin, and rested a hand on your thigh.

Her other arm went around your shoulders and pulled you closer – your head resting on her chest.

Her rhythmic heartbeat was a consistent reminder that she was indeed alive and still with you. After two months of being apart, the whole situation felt imaginary, but her steady heartbeat let you know that it was real – that she was indeed with you. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

Brienne’s hand on your thigh rested securely and her thumb drew soft lines across your skin. She smiled at your words as she kept her eyes closed to invite slumber. “It’s beating because and for you.”

Her words caused you to pull yourself even closer to her, which was impossible to do at this point. A smile and a blush crept up on your face, she always said the most adorable things and you had no idea what you did to deserve her love, but you were so thankful for her. “You’re sweet. I love you so much.”

Brienne chuckled quietly and you could tell she was close to falling asleep by her voice. “You bring out that side in me... what can I say? I love you, too. Thank you for being here when I returned.”

“I will always be here when you return,” you whispered. You were starting to feel the weeks of worried sleep catch up to you by now and you were more than ready to finally fall asleep in her embrace once again.

The only response Brienne gave was a hum and it fell silent after that.

You heard the knight’s breathing even out after a few minutes, and it signaled that she had fallen into a slumber that you hoped was a deep and restful one. You could only imagine the conditions she has been having to sleep in, and you couldn’t see them being comfortable.

You listened to her breathing and heartbeat for a few more seconds before sleep claimed you as well. Now back with a safe Brienne, you knew that you’d sleep incredibly well. You always did with her.

When you awoke the next morning, Brienne would kiss you all over to make up for two months of being away from one another. But that was up to you in the future to find out. Until then, you were more than happy to finally be with her again, and you remained clinging to your knight all night long.

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taglist: @na-shoba, @pastanest, @the-fuck-do-i-know, @christies-fleur, @idontlikepexple, @lord6-6fandom, @sapphicmitski (can't tag you for some reason)

#gwendoline christie #brienne of tarth #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth x reader

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intoxicated-chan · 8 months

Text

Be With Me

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Robb Stark x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ When Robb over hears of your potential marriage, he cannot stand the idea of loosing you to some random lord.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Be with Me” by Ramin Djawadi. It was heavily inspired by the cave scene with Jon and Yigrette. P.S… IM BACK!!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, sexual content, swearing, injuries, mentions of death, oral (male receiving), discussion of marriage…

(I’m saying it again! This was heavily inspired by the cave scene that involved Jon and Yigrette!!)

You walk out of the medic tent with a limp, It’s more than obvious that you were injured, and you feel the stares from other soldiers as your eyes are narrowed.

Robb caught up to you, grabbing your shoulder to make you turn around, “What was that?” Robb immediately said, “You thought it best to throw yourself into a fight?”

“A sword was coming from behind, you were too bothered to even notice.” You shake his hand off your shoulder and continue walking.

Robb grumbles a couple of words before speeding up to catch you, “I saved your life.” He piped up.

“No, I did.” You corrected him, you kept your eyes forward as you walked to your tent, “If I didn’t throw myself into the battle… You know I’d die for you.”

It makes Robb scoff rather loudly, ignoring your last words, “Let’s say you saved me. What about the other time or the other one?” Robb lifts an eyebrow, “You still owe me two more.”

“I owe you quite a lot, my lord.” You tell him, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to check the horses.”

He grabs your cloak tightly and pulls you back, nearly making you fall to the ground. You look up at him confused and angry.

He suddenly snatches your sword out of your scabbard, “I’ll take your sword as payment.” He then scurries away, you can hear him laughing.

“W-What?” You stand shocked for a moment before realizing what is happening, “Robb! Come back here, dammit!” You shout, chasing after him, “Robb fucking Stark! Give me my sword!”

You run after him, tumbling on a few rocks but don’t fall… Somehow. As much as you’re a fighter, Robb was a runner.

He ran so easily and didn’t take a second to look back and stop to give you some kind of better start.

“If you want it back, you’ll have to steal it back!” He runs from the camp and into a random cave. A random cave to you. You didn’t know the North like he did.

The cave is heated by a natural hot spring, which forms a waterfall and a pool. The rocks glistening from the humidity from the water and the light shining through.

Robb sets his sword against the rocks and begins to undo his armor. He starts with his gloves, crumbling them up and tossing them besides the sword.

Your peer your head into the cave, you rush into the cave when hear him, “Seven fucking hells, Robb-!” You loudly shout, but stop in your tracks.

“I heard from my mother that you were supposed to marry some random Lord.” He spoke with a hint of venom in his voice, he pulls off his brown leather boots, “Which means you’re a maiden.”

You choke on your words as you feel your face become warm at his bluntness.

He unties and unbuttons his armor, setting it down carefully, “I always wanted to beat the lord dead, just imagining you in his grasp made me feel so angry.”

Robb turns his back to your as his arms cross and grab the hem of his dirty shirt, he’s swift and impatient, tearing free from the constraints of fighting and riding.

His hands come to the strings of his breeches, “I wanted to be the one to marry you… To kiss you…” Until his breeches drop to the ground. He steps out of them, “To love you…”

Robb turns back to you, he is completely bare in front of you. You could see light bruises and scrapes on his body but little scars. They were faded but still there, it added to his muscular body. He was so beautiful… So perfect… So flawless…

Your eyes flicker around the cave and your eyes only set sights on him once. They move to the ground and you hear his soft steps against the wet stone.

He slowly closes the space in between you both until his face his near yours.

You feel Robb’s breath, one of his hands comes to your cheeks and cups it. But when he leans into you for a kiss, you pull back.

You swallow thickly and turn your head, “We shouldn’t, Robb.” You mumble under your breath, “We can’t be doing this.”

“Then look me in the eyes and say it. Tell me that you don’t want to go any further.” He says, and he slowly turns his head to eventually look at him, “Go on, tell me.”

You knew what was waiting for you back at home, you knew that the second you stepped foot back into your home, your life would be over, even more if your parents found out.

“Do you want to marry that lord?” Robb whispers in your ear, “Do you want a marry a man with selfish desires?” You could hear the pain in his voice, “Because my heart would not stand the idea of it… My heart is yours, it has been from the start, ever since your mother met mine, ever since you watched me train that day. Do you feel as I do?”

“I do.” You shakily answer him. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close and then you feel his lips on yours.

As your eyes shut and kiss him, you can feel yourself crying. You don’t know but he sees it, he does his best to keep you distracted and focused on him.

But you seem to have other ideas…

Once you manage to calm down and enjoy the kiss for a few more minutes, taking a couple of seconds to catch your breath before returning… Your hands move down his body and you slowly begin to kneel, planting kisses down his chest.

Robb chuckles, “Come back up, I wanna-” A sudden moan leaves his mouth when he feels your mouth wrap around his hard cock.

He throws his head back and allows himself to moan loudly. He was confined in the cave, just with you and no one else to see or hear. He closes his eyes and his hand comes to your head to move faster.

“F-Fuck!” His voice cracks as he curses, “H-How are you so-” He grunts and hisses, watching you close as you get him off.

Moments later, Robb is lying on the warm stone ground with you by his side… His fingers graze over your skin as he listens to the water pouring, feeling the warmth coming from the hot spring beside them.

Robb looks down at you with a grin, “How did you know to do that?” He questions you with an eyebrow raised.

You shrug, “I didn't learn it from anyone, I just wanted to. You looked like you enjoyed it.” You drag your nails over his chest.

“Surely there must’ve been a man you practice with.” Robb sits up, he’s genuinely curious but still playful, “Was it Theon? Or Jon?”

You swat at his leg and he snickers in response, “I swear, Robb. There wasn’t any other man.”

“So you are a maiden or were.” Robb stands and grabs your hand to help you up, “Join me, would you?” You didn’t need to say anything, he could see the answer in your eyes.

He leads you into the hot spring, feeling the warm water make contact with your skin. You wrap your arms around his waist and lay your head on his chest.

“They may be looking for us.” You tell him, unsure what to do now as you are held in his arms.

“I know.” Robb huffs as he rubs your back, “But let’s stay for a little longer…. I don’t wish to leave.” He holds you even tighter and places a kiss on the top of your head, “I do not wish to lose you once this is all over.”

“I… I’m sure I can convince my parents somehow. My mother could easily be swayed, but my father-”

“I’ll deal with him.” Robb interrupts you, “I’ll talk to my mother about it. There’s no way I cannot lose you to that man.”

Robb then moves to cup your face, swiping his thumb over his cheek, “Let’s not leave for a little longer.” He pulls you into another kiss, adjusting you comfortably on his lap.

You shudder and shiver, feeling his cock enter once more, “Don’t let me go.” You say to him, your hands hold grab his shoulders, keeping yourself up.

Once he was sheathed inside of you, Robb finally answers, “There’s no way I’ll let you go. Even if they try to pry my dead body off you, I’ll never let you go.”

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark x y/n #robb stark x you #game of thrones #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones smut #Jon son #theon greyjoy #robb stark smut #robb x reader

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Note

hi dear just wondering if you're taking request? If not then feel free to ignore me but I was wondering what or how would the yandere twisted wonderland boys react to a willing reader who actually finds there yandere tendencies hot and endearing and actually does not mind being locked up or the reader is just generally obsessed as they are with them hahaha sorry if it's to hard but if you find it uncomfortable then feel free to ignore me dear

Yandere-Obsessed | Yandere Twisted Wonderland x Reader

Malleus Draconia

“I will never let you leave my sights again!”

“Why would I ever?”

After nearly obliterating those he feels as though are a threat to your health

He snaps

With glowing green eyes, he refuses to let you go despite any protests you may have

But you have none

Immediately jumping into the near-dragon amalgamation’s arms as you lovingly rub your cheek against him

“I’m so happy, you feel the same!”

“Wait…does…this mean you purposefully orchestrated the incident?”

“Hehehe maybe?”

“...You love me as well?”

“Ohh Malleus I adore you!”

He’s near melting

You guys are the couple that sits in public places with hardly any space between you as your constantly looking into each other's eyes

Its a fight should anyone intervene

On both ends

Sebek’s reeling but he gains a whole lot of respect when you easily threaten his life

Malleus and you are in your own world

Most people don’t get killed only because you two are so focused on one another no one really penetrates your bubble

“My child of man it felt as if my heart was torn in two! I can breathe now that your in my arms again!”

“Oh Mal-Mal!”

Jack Howl

“W-wait (Y/n) i-its not what you think!”

“Really? It looks like that guy was suffocated to death and your burying him.”

“(Y/n)-”

“You can’t bury him yet until we remove any and all traces of you! See!? Your nail marks are a dead-giveaway!”

“Uh–”

“Here we should just burn this part that way no one will know!”

“T-thanks?”

“Of course, baby.”

He’s always felt guilty for the stuff he was doing in your name

But to see you his beloved, his mate assure him

Brings him an air of confidence

Now he knows that you acknowledge him and will even defend him

Like a true mate!

He’s so pleased he doesn’t have to fight you to accept him

Rather he’s fighting you from doing the same

It just makes him so embarrassed you care for him

“Love you don’t need to do away with the other contestants!”

“But look at your blush! You won’t mind it all that much you can step down from your high horse for me? Right?”

“...Fine b-but you promise to spend the rest of the night kissing me, right!?”

Idia Shroud

“Y-you knew I was watching? T-the whole time?!”

“Yup! I’m surprised you hardly noticed the ones I had on you!”

“W-what!?”

Any semblance of the love-obsessed mad scientist is diminished by your overwhelming display of love

He’s too busy reeling from that obsessed look you give him

He’s so easy to dominate from then on

Avidly obeying all your promises to terminate anyone who talks to him

All with a love-obsessed blush on his face

But even with your reciprocated love, he’ll eventually want for more

Whether he convinces himself you're faking it or that you are trying to outshine his love

He’s turning the tables on you

Coming up with something that will really blow your socks off

Something to show you he is the ultimate yandere in this relationship

“Darling, how clever you summoned the robots of S.T.Y.X to eliminate all your rivals. But believe me, I will do the same.”

“Hehe you misunderstand, muffin! They’re aren’t only here to eliminate my rivals but there also going to escort you to my love dungeon!”

“Love dungeon?”

“Yeah, how’s that for yandere!? I love you more than anyone even you can’t compete with me!”

Jamil Viper

“So if my suspicions are right you’ve been using snake whisper so that they’ll all stay away from me, right?”

“...”

“Don’t look so tense I wanted to thank you! And I wanted to ask if you noticed my own attempts to be noticed by you?”

“W-what?!”

He’s usually on top of it when it comes to knowing about you and hiding his feelings at the same time

But he completely skimmed over your various attempts to reciprocate his violent-obsessive tendencies

He’s reluctant to believe you

But when he does he’s falling even more in love

He plans to occupy all your time

And doesn’t mind when you start sleeping at Scarabia just to be closer to him

He loves it so much

He acts so much goofier because he’s falling in love all over again

“You better not be lying to me about this…”

“Trance me if you really want to know!”

“Maybe I will.”

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rosepascal · 3 months

Text

Pick up || Agent Whiskey x Reader

summary: Hooking up with a chick at a rock concert? More like fucking a cowboy in a pick up truck.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, afab!reader, dirty talk, reader rides whiskey, fingering, handjob, swearing, he slaps your ass once.

a/n: here is my entry for @iamasaddie moodboard writing thingy. I've never written whiskey before so uhhh hope u like it!!

You just met the guy and he was hard to resist with that stupid cowboy hat and tight ass jeans. Normally that cocky kind of confidence was not your thing.

You've dealt with many a guy who think they're gods gift to women when in reality they're nothing but carbon copies of the same douchebag.

But he was hot and truthfully you were looking for a good fuck and if that bulge in his jeans wasn't a good enough indication then it was the way women seemed to fawn over him. Already knowing his name and shamelessly begging him for one more night.

After drinking enough alcohol to make your brain all fuzzy you were dead set on getting fucked by that cowboy tonight. Jack was all fucking for it. Hot and bold, he doesn't need to charm his way when you're already ready to take his cock down your throat. He smirks as he leans closer to you. His arm resting right near your head as he makes a show of looking you up and down.

"Howdy cowboy," You flick the top of his hat and he chuckles.

"Howdy, darlin'." He sneaks his hand to your back and you don't mind it.

"So you really a cowboy? Because I heard cowboys like to play a little rough." You tug on his leather jacket and press your chest against his. Looking up with lustful eyes.

"Wanna find out?" He brushes his lips against your cheek and your eyes flutter closed.

The two of you are stumbling out of the bar, his lips can't stay off your neck or shoulder as you struggle to stay on your feet. You spot a pick up truck sitting towards the back of the lot.

"A truck, what no horse?" You tease as he grabs your ass shamelessly.

"Oh I've got a horse alright." He purrs as he walks you to his car. He opens the door for you but you gesture for him to get in instead. His eyes light up as he realizes what you want.

"Can't wait for me can you?" You don't say a word as you climb onto his lap. He puts the seat back to give you more room and wastes no time in helping you out of that dress.

"Fuck sweetheart," He groans as you grind your hips.

He squeezes your tits making you moan. Teasing the nipple as he runs his hands along your body and back up to your chest. You play with his belt buckle and he shimmies out of his jeans and boxers. His cock springs free and damn he wasn't joking when he said he had a horse.

You spit in your hand and wrap it around his cock. Watching as he leans back and groans in pleasure. It's hard and leaking and ready to be buried in your cunt. He grabs your face and pulls you down in a messy kiss. His hands move further down until he slips two fingers inside of your cunt. You moan into his mouth and he lets you bury your face in his shoulder. He's fucking your cunt mercilessly with his fingers. His lips kiss and bite along your neck.

"Fuck I need you." You whine. He takes his fingers out and grabs a condom from the cup holder of his car.

"Think you can ride baby?" His thumb rubs circles into your hip. "Absolutely." You grab his hat and place it on your head. He grins as he helps guide your hips down on his cock. His eyes shut in pleasure as you sink down all the way. Taking all of him at once.

"Oh fuck darlin', so fucking tight." Your hands rest on his shoulders as you bounce on his cock. He's got one hand on your ass and the other squeezing one of your boobs.

"You're so big." You whine as you grind your hips back and forth, loving the feeling of his dick hitting deep inside of you.

"I'm from Texas baby."

"Alright-" You're cut off by a loud moan as he bucks his hips up. Smirking as you bury your face in his shoulder.

"Ah ah, I wanna hear you." He grabs your chin and forces you to look him in the eye as he starts to fuck up into you. Whimpers fall from your lips as you bounce with his hips, wanting him as deep as you can.

"Fuck fuck!" Your legs burn but you're too overwhelmed with pleasure to care.

"Come on darlin', let me feel you come on my cock." Your legs shake as you finally break.

Your cunt clenches around him and he groans as he recklessly fucks his hips up. Chasing his high, you're soaking wet and so fucking warm it doesn't take long until he's coming hard. You rest your forehead against his and he gently runs his hands up and down your back. His cowboy hat is slipping off your head and he fixes it. He bites his lips as he takes in your naked body and his hat sitting on your head.

"So, want to come back to my place? Don't think you've shown me enough yet." He snorts as he takes his hat back.

"Darlin' you can barely sit up without my help." He leans closer and slaps your ass suddenly.

"But if you think I'm not rough enough here, just wait till you're in my bed. I'll have you screaming my name and shaking, fuck you until you can't remember anything but what my cock feels like." You moan softly at his words, your thighs pressing together to give yourself some relief.

"Bring it cowboy."

#jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey smut

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 1 year

Text

SCREAM MASTERPOST

*= smut

CHAD MEEKS MARTIN

Bodybag | Riley!Reader

Chad comforts you after Dewey's death

Cockblock roommate *

Ethan stops you and Chad from continuing your activities

Don't go upstairs with him

Chad stops you from going upstairs with Frankie...and then confesses to you

Goodnight kiss * | Riley!Reader

Chad walks you home and finally takes your relationship to the next level

Helping hand *

After Chad gets released from the hospital, his personal nurse gives him a helping hand

I can't go through this again

Another ghostface strikes and Chad has PTSD from the legacy murders

Is that my shirt?

Chad notices that the shirt you're wearing is his

Late night in the kitchen *

During a trip to the twins' family cabin, you and Chad have a late night adventure in the kitchen

Save a horse, ride a cowboy *

You make a move on Chad and end up in an empty bedroom with his cowboy hat on, riding another kind of horse

Setting up the tree

You and Chad decorate the Christmas tree together

Stab stab stab

Chad gets stabbed by Ghostface when looking for you

Stood up

You get stood up and Chad offers you his shoulder to cry on

The no-sex rule *

You and Chad don't listen to Mindy's 'surviving a horror movie' rules

Wrong person

You send you nudes to your ex by mistake

You drew stars around my scars

You sleep over at Chad's dorm and see something you hadn't seen before

MINDY MEEKS MARTIN

Blood on the subway

Mindy gets stabbed on the subway...there's a lot of blood

Give me attention *

Mindy works on a school assignement, but you're bored and decide to tease her

Movie night

After watching the horror that is Halloween Ends, Mindy needs kisses to erase the movie from her memory

Skilled fingers *

Mindy is a goddess in bed

TARA CARPENTER

Caught *

Tara asks you to use a vibrator on her...and Sam walks in

I was so scared

After Tara gets attacked at her house, you visit her at the hospital

Is this good? *

Tara tries to top for the first time

I thought you were dead

You survive the attack inside the shrine

Sleepover *

It's the first sleepover since Tara got attacked in her house. You and her breaks the friendship

We might die tomorrow

After Sam and Tage get attacked at the bodega, everyone stayed over at the appartement

ETHAN LANDRY

Catching feelings *

You grown feelings during a game of teasing your roommate Ethan

Friends touch each other, right? *

You teach virgin!Ethan how to touch a woman

I can't forgive you | Riley!Reader

Ethan betrays you, but you can't forgive him

It's you *

You figure out Ethan is Ghostface

Let's play a little game *

You get a phone call from a masked ID when you’re home alone…

Night visits

As Quinn's friend, you are not allowed to see her little brother, so you and Ethan have a secret relationship

No protection needed *

You and Ethan do it without a condom for the first time

Play with me *

Ethan asks you to play with him

Panty stealer

Pervy!Ethan steals your panties

Pretty boy * | camgirl!reader

Ethan purchases a private session with his favorite camgirl

Pretty boy part 2 *

Ethan purchases another private session...and get the girl's number

Pretty boy part 3 *

Camgirl!Reader and Ethan finally meets

Roomie *

Ethan jerks off to his roommate and gets caught

Shy!Ethan

Ethan has a huge crush on you but is too shy to make a move...so you make one

Study time

Studying econ turns into teasing your boyfriend

That's hot

You find out that Ethan does boxing

Video games *

You give Ethan a blowjob while he games with Chad

Video girl *

You convince Ethan to make a video with you

BILLY LOOMIS

Knife play

You seduce Billy with the knife he used to kill Maureen Prescott

Ménage à trois * | Billy x Stu x Reader

A typical movie night at Stu’s turns into a ménage à trois

Mouthful * | Billy x Stu x Riley!Reader

Why settling for one when you can get two?

PG-16 at the Theater

Billy gets handsy at the movie theater

Stranger danger *

Billy decide to surprise you on your way back from Tatum's

Talk dirty to me *

Phone sex with Billy

#chad meeks martin #tara carpenter #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks x reader #chad meeks martin imagine #chad meeks martin x reader #scream 6 imagines #scream 6 #tara carpenter x reader #mindy meeks martin x reader

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everythingelseisextra · 9 months

Text

Stand Your Ground

Part Eleven: Work

Description: You are found. Warnings: Discussion and description of self harm scars, language, canon-typical violence Word Count: 2593 Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @ttaechii @weaponizedvirtue @Majesticcmey @Optimisticsandwichgladiator @zablife @princesssterek @mm0thie @callsignvenus @babayaga67 @globetrotter28 @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul

You’re not yourself. You’re floating above your body like a ghost, the sensations you could be experiencing numbed out by fear and necessity. You watch yourself waver and wonder if you’ll stay standing, or if the terror will be too much and you’ll fall to your knees. Your grip on Tommy’s arm loosens as he opens his mouth to speak. You shake your head, let go, and make a beeline towards the nearest exit. Each step you take reverberates through you, pounding through your skull, but still, you’re disconnected, unattached to yourself. Footsteps follow you, and you can’t tell who they belong to, so panic pushes you into a jog. A white horse prances out of the corner of your eye. Voices speak and you can’t understand them and it doesn’t matter anyway, all you need to do is get out, get away, save yourself.

The footsteps following you speed up and your vision starts to blur, the edges darkening, specks of light shining through. You gasp for breath, trying to keep yourself moving while the ground beneath your feet sways. Shoulders caved in, arms wrapped around you, trying to keep yourself from falling entirely apart.

Someone grabs your arm and yanks you to the side. You blink up to find hazel eyes, a face with skin pulled so tight and pale that it looks like a skull. You go limp in his grip, leaning back against the wall behind you, because it’s easier this way. At this point, it’s easier to just let it happen. You can’t feel his hand on your arm, can’t feel his breath on your face, can’t register that he’s moving closer, trying to get a good look at your face.

“It is you.” His lips twitch up. “What a coincidence. Liszt will be thrilled.”

You watch his hand tighten on your arm, watch his other one gently touch your hip, trying to draw you closer. You comply. Your eyes are trapped on the ground, you can’t move, can’t feel, can barely see. You need to fight, you know it, but you can’t, because you no longer belong to yourself, no longer live in your own body. For the next few minutes, or for however long it takes, you belong to him, and you’ll be numb, unfeeling, because that way, it won’t hurt.

Fight. Comply. Fight. Comply. Opposite orders clash in your mind and you remain frozen. Your eyes slide closed and you’re asleep, dreaming while his hand travels down your side, pressing you to him.

My body is here and I am inside.

Gunshot. Hot blood splatters. The man slumps onto you and you’re drenched in liquid carmine. You take in a sharp breath, and, suddenly, you’re crying, sobbing. His dead weight pushes you down to your knees and you shake violently, forced back into your body. Heaving breath shudders through your chest and you shove his body off of you, watch as it limply falls away. For a moment, all you have is the warm blood covering and the image of the side of his head blown open, skull shattered and brain matter leaking through. And you’re crying and pathetic, brought to your knees by nothing more than a light touch on your hip and a familiar face.

And then you look up and find unaffected blue eyes staring down at you. You look away. You’re meant to be brave, to be a fighter, to take shit from no one and defend yourself with a ferocity that rivals the gangster you’ve found yourself side by side with. And he saw you freeze up, saw you allow it to happen, no sign of fighting back or self-preservation. What’s worse is that none of it matters. You can’t stay here. You can’t keep the horses, can’t settle down, can’t make a life here. Four months was all you got on the outskirts of Birmingham, and it’s over. They found you.

Tommy reaches out a hand for you, his voice quiet. “On your feet, soldier.”

You can’t. You can’t unwrap your arms from around yourself. You can’t move. Somewhere in history, someone stole the teeth out of your fight.

“I said, on your feet.” He’s insistent. You look at his hand and try to convince yourself that it will not hurt you. Slowly, you reach up and take it, and he pulls you to your feet.

Your white shirt and beige jodhpurs are patterned with blood, and your body trembles. You try to hold yourself still, try to pull yourself together, but your body keeps the score, and it’s so used to losing.

“Now, we’re leaving him here. We’re going to Arrow and we’re cleaning you up.” He kicks the body out of the way and starts to walk, still holding your hand, bringing you stumbling after him.

You open your mouth to speak but find your voice, once again, trapped in your throat. There’s a lifetime’s worth of words burnt inside of you, never to be spoken, never to heal. And you swallow hard and look away, another tear dripping slowly down your cheek.

You’re waiting for the silence in you to break, afraid of what you might say when it does but more scared of how he might react when you tell him. Once you’re in the car, and the quiet washes over you, your shaking stops and the blood on your body cools.

As he drives, his eyes stay on the road, his hands on the wheel. Your feet are on the seat, your knees up to your chest, and your eyes are wide open, scared.

You’re traveling down a rich neighborhood when he breaks the silence. Your eyes quietly take in the grandeur you will never have. His voice is steady and soft, speaking to you like he would to a frightened horse. “You want to hide. Run off somewhere and forget all this shit again. You go off somewhere where no one knows who you are and you’re not living anymore. You’re waiting. Waiting to die.”

Your lip quivers. You try to speak, try to force some words out, and find you can’t. So you shake your head, looking down at the floor.

“There’s no outrunning this. You have to know that by now. Fifteen years you’ve been running.” His eyes move to you, a quick, soft glance, checking in. “Time to stand your ground and fight.”

“I can’t.” Your voice croaks and you clear your throat, looking over at him to repeat yourself clearer. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not a fighter. I’m not like you, I try to be brave and strong and then, when I’m in actual danger, I freeze up. I think I tried to fight when I was younger and they trained me to just give in, because it would be worse if I didn’t.”

“Did you ever have someone to fight for you?”

You pause, releasing a slow breath, trying to keep yourself calm while your heart clenches in your chest. “No.”

He nods, looking back at the road. “So it’s different.”

“What, you and I against them?” You squeeze your legs to your chest, looking over at him. “I know you’re capable, but I think even you can’t win this one.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then glances at you. “I have friends. Family.”

“And it’s not fair to ask them to fight for some girl.” You shake your head. “I have to go. I have to leave.”

“They’ll fight for you if I ask them to.”

“I said no.”

“You’re worth fighting for.”

“I’m telling you, I’m not.” You close your eyes. “I matter to one person, and that’s you. I don’t exist to anyone else.”

“Yes. You matter to me.” He pulls the car in front of a manor that you consider unnecessarily large and stops it, turning to look at you. “I don’t give a shit if the rest of the world doesn’t care; you matter to me. I protect my own.”

You open your eyes to blink over at him. “You’re not gonna let up on this, are you?”

“No.” He shakes his head

“I don’t want to start a war.”

“You’re not. They did.”

“I’m not a fighter, Tom, I can’t— I can’t just sit by and watch you do this for me.”

“Don’t say that.” His jaw tightens and he looks over at you, an ember of anger in his eyes. “‘I’m not a fighter.’ What is it you told me? Every day that you wake up and face the same fight that you did the day before is a triumph. That’s what you do.”

You chuckle humorlessly. “That’s a metaphor.”

“Not for me.” His words grow hard. “Not for you.”

You sigh. “Tom, I—”

“You’re staying.” He starts the car and pulls into the manor’s massive driveway, circling around a fountain.

“That’s my choice, actually.”

“No. Not this time. I will make you stay if you don’t choose to do so.”

“So I’m going from one warden to another?” Your voice matches his, firmness to it, some fight in your words. “You’re going to keep me prisoner if I decide I want to leave? Is that what you’re saying?”

He stops the car and turns it off, then turns to consider you. “I have reasons to want to keep you here.”

Your blood freezes over, your eyes widen. “What the fuck does that mean?”

He reaches out, tenderly cupping your cheek in his hand, drawing you towards him. You’re too shocked, too out of your element, to realize what’s about to happen until it’s happening. His lips on yours, soft but slightly chapped, gentle and chaste, almost shy. You tense up, and his thumb gently strokes your cheek, coaxing you into relaxation. It’s only a moment, and then he pulls away, but your cheeks are flushed and you’re breathless, slightly dizzy.

“Oh,” you say.

He chuckles, a low, precious sound, and you immediately want to hear it again and again and again. Your mind swirls.

“Are we clear?” His voice is back to softness.

“Crystal.”

Arrow House boasts a kind of splendor you can only describe as ghostly. Each room settles into a kind of haunted organization, echoing each other in a maze-like standardization. The bedrooms stand with perfectly made beds and almost hospital-level cleanliness. There’s a lack of clutter that you personally find makes the home seem cold, untouchable, like it hovers elsewhere, not fully existing in our universe. Still, Tommy leads you to one of the spare bedrooms, and leaves you there to undress. You close the curtains to the window and sit in the semi-light, a bluish tint to the room as sunrays try to make their way through the blinds. The bedsheets are dark brown, matching the beige walls, and it feels stagnant, empty. You suddenly understand his constant need for work.

You fold the bloody clothes and toss them on the tile floor in the bathroom, so they can be cleaned later. You’re mostly undressed, your shirt and jodhpurs off, when he knocks on the door.

“You decent?”

“No,” you answer, quiet enough so only he can hear. “But you can come in.”

There’s a pause before he opens the door and steps inside. His arms carry a folded pile of clean clothes belonging to Ada that you’ll be borrowing. His eyes flick over you and he closes the door behind him, stepping back to lean against it, as if trying to stay as far from you as possible.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I don’t mind you seeing.”

You’ve grown to have a certain carelessness with your body, at least in circumstances like these. So many people have seen you, have looked at your shape and judged it, that it no longer feels private to you. You have no shame in the way you appear, and you know, somewhere in the days you’ve spent with him, that he would never break the shape you take.

He looks back at you, and you stand from where you sit on the bed, allowing him to see you. You’re a collection of scars and memories, blood and bone and thin, wiry muscle, and across your body, there are patterns. On your stomach there are deep scars from men who needed to hurt you to feel they were in control. On your back, shallow and faint marks tell where you were scratched by clients clutching at you. And, on your thighs, there are symmetrical, straight lined scars, almost pearlescent, some larger than others.

He approaches you slowly, meeting your eyes before he reaches out to gently trace the scar tissue on your stomach. Your skin quivers beneath his touch, like a horse trying to shake a fly, but you face him unwaveringly. His fingers travel lightly down to your thighs, brushing against the raised, parallel scars.

“Who did this to you?” He sounds almost in awe, respectful, but behind his words is an anger that you can feel in your chest. His touch sparks through you, warm and shivering faintly, a dialectic.

“Oh, Tom,” You shake your head, a wavering smile on your lips. “I did.”

You look away, swallowing hard, smile falling. You repeat yourself with a choked voice. “I did.”

He takes your chin in his hand and turns your head so you meet his eyes. “This is why. This is why you’re staying with me.”

“I can’t.” You lean into his touch. “You know I can’t.”

“Aren’t you tired of being alone?” He traces your lips, gentle. “Is it not worth staying so you have a family? Am I not worth staying for?”

You pull away from him. “That’s unfair and you know it.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No, not unfair. Honest. You promised me you’d linger.”

You take in a sharp breath, sitting back down on the bed so you don’t have to hold your own weight, don’t have to hold your head up so high. “I don’t want to get you hurt.”

“You underestimate the Peaky Blinders.” He kneels down in front of you, taking your hands in his and looking up at you, blue eyes a frozen ocean during a storm. “You underestimate me.”

“Maybe.” You bite your lip, curling your hands into fists inside of his. “Maybe I do.”

“Stay. Stay, and maybe— maybe I can have a do-over.” He rests his head against your bare knees. “Maybe I can have a second chance.”

You look down at him, at this man literally on his knees for you, and your heart goes out to him. Something in you lets go of the fear, and you realize that he’s let you waltz right into his life, let you see parts of him he shows no one else. He saved your life and took you home and got you fresh clothes and you didn’t thank him, and he asked for nothing in return but your presence in his life. He asked for nothing but for you to stay.

Some people are so desperate for softness that they forget that even the gentlest creatures still have teeth. But he promised he wouldn’t hurt you, and now, you realize you’re indebted to him. You owe him. He forced himself into your life and saw your loneliness and told you that you were enough for him, even if indirectly.

And so, quietly, you answer him. “Okay. I won’t run away this time. I’ll let you show me how to live.”

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaker blinders fandom #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic

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huramuna · 5 months

Text

selkie's song - chapter 1.

night's watch aemond x wildling shapeshifter ofc work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

this is wholly inspired by @lonelymagpies depiction of Night's Watch Aemond. please go check out their beautiful work here!

i am also partial to selkies bc irish 🤭 i'm going to take some liberties with wildling lore since we don't know too too much about them and mix some of my own heritage into it (indigenous american and irish) , which i feel would meld really well.

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word count: 2.2k

content: smut (eventually, specifics will be under the cut of chapters with it), enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, ofc is a menace to Aemond and he kind of likes it

who is she? - I MONSTER • dead! - my chemical romance

The blood of the dragon runs hot and thick, pulsing through Targaryen veins like molten lava. His mother always snuggled him as a child, citing him as her own personal furnace.

If only that would come in handy now. Aemond thought he knew cold, way up in the skies, skimming the clouds upon Vhagar’s back, feeling the chill away from the heat of the earth. A frigid autumn breeze going through his window, causing him to bundle up in two blankets— although he usually kicked them off sometime during the night.

But this— this was cold. Ball freezing, bone chilling, blue lipped cold. He was stuck up in the ass of the North, stationed at the wall, dressed all in black. He puffed up the collar of his cloak, trying to find some respite from the gales of glacial air.

“Saddle up, Targaryen,” the lord commander grunted. He was a broad man, some disgraced Northman who rose his way up the ranks of the Night’s watch. Aemond could hardly remember his name, “We’re goin’ beyond the wall. Scouts said wildlings gettin’ too close.”

“Mm.” Aemond grumbled in response, not wanting to waste his energy talking to the ogre of a man when it could be better used for warmth.

The stable boy, no older than nine name days, tugged his palfrey to him, “I’ve got ‘em all tacked up for ya, prince.”

“Oy, Ryam,” the lord commander snapped. Lord Ennard Fir, that was the commander’s name, “He ain’t no prince anymore, so stop callin’ him as such. He’s just one of us now, eh? A man in black.”

Ryam nodded slowly, handing the reins to Aemond. The boy’s face was tinged red as he puffed air into his cupped hands, trying to keep warm. He was a boy from the south, just like Aemond— a butcher’s bastard boy, Ryam Waters. He had accompanied the now scorned prince on his ride up the Kingsroad. He reminded Aemond greatly of Daeron.

“Stay warm, boy,” Aemond said, giving the youngster a stiff nod of his head, “Take the fur from my bed, it’ll help.”

Ryam puffed out his chest, “Uh huh, your grace,” he giggled, speaking the title in secret.

It almost made a smile come to Aemond’s lips. Almost. He tried to remember the last time he smiled– it was on that fateful day near Storm’s End, over Shipbreaker’s bay. He was taunting Lucerys, finally being the stronger one, the one who had control. He laughed and smiled like a madman, chasing his nephew on his puny hatchling of a dragon. He felt like a god.

Then Vhagar snapped her jaws, ignoring Aemond’s commands. The sickening crunch of Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon still lived in his mind. It played in his dreams, making them into nightmares. He constantly woke up in a cold sweat, muttering, “It was an accident, it was an accident, I didn’t mean it.”

His eye began to ache and he clenched his jaw as he mounted his horse. Glancing around, he saw that five other men were joining him. He tugged his hood up slightly before his hand rested on his blade. He donned two weapons; a standard issue castle-steel short sword, and the Catspaw blade. He had watched his father carry it for years, he watched his mother brandish it in his name and cut Rhaenyra— and now it was his.

Not by precedent or bestowment, he actually stole it. When he was being sent to take the black, he pilfered it from Daemon’s chambers. The old fucker already had one ancestral blade, he didn’t need two. It was the only thing he had left of home, besides the sapphire in his socket and his eyepatch. It was gorgeous crafted Valyrian steel and he always kept it on his person.

His thumb grazed over the ruby gem on the hilt of the dagger absentmindedly as they descended on their journey, spurring their horses further across the threshold of the wall. Lord Fir was at the front, with Aemond holding up the back in their procession of ingrates and outcasts.

If he told his younger self that he was to be lumped in with bastards, thieves, rapers and ne’er-do-wells, he would’ve laughed in his own face. It was a ridiculous notion for a Targaryen prince to be even entertaining the idea. And yet, here he was. Living it out.

He wondered what his mother was doing currently. Had she taken Helaena and Aegon to Oldtown with the children? Did she stay in the Red Keep to be squashed under Rhaenyra’s heel?

“Aemond Targaryen, you stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, protector of the realm,” Ser Westerling had shouted, “You stand accused of treason, conspiracy to commit usurpation, and nepoticide. You murdered Lucerys Velaryon in cold blood above the skies of Shipbreaker Bay.”

Aemond had been in chains, his face haggard and stubbled from not being able to shave. They stripped him of his eyepatch and sapphire at the hearing, sending him down to his knees with his barren eye socket to behold.

“How do you plead to these charges?” Ser Harrold asked.

Aemond said nothing.

Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne, tapping her finger incessantly against the metal, “Brother. I’ve granted you the courtesy of allowing a hearing to your… crimes, rather than simply sending you to the block. Mayhaps I was too lenient on my decision to let you say your piece.”

Aemond still said nothing, looking down at the ground. He heard his mother shuffling near him, off to the side in the throne room, murmuring something hurriedly to someone.

“I have nothing to say. Lucerys is dead— nothing I can say will bring him back or undo what’s been done.” he finally grit out, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“So, you have no objection to being punished for your crimes? The crime of Kinslaying is the most cursed,” Rhaenyra said, leaning forward, “Mayhaps I will grant you a death by dragon— I would honor you the same way you so graciously honored Lucerys, hm? Mayhaps have Syrax and Caraxes rip you limb from limb and scatter your parts over Blackwater Bay.”

Aemond didn’t respond.

“Y-your grace,” Alicent spoke up, walking to Aemond and standing in front of him, “Please, have mercy upon him. Your son wouldn’t have wanted this—“

“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT MY SON WOULD’VE WANTED,” Rhaenyra bellowed, standing up from her seat, “Your son took away his ability to want anything, and for that there should be repercussions! A son for a son.”

“Rhaenyra, please,” Alicent murmured, “Please, I can’t lose him— it… it was an accident. Aemond, tell her it was an accident!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to admit their family’s greatest fear was true; they did not have complete control over their dragons.

Rhaenyra gazed at Aemond’s pained expression, then at Alicent, “He will be punished. But I would not become a Kinslayer— I do not wish to be as accursed as you, brother,” she strode back to the throne, twisting the rings on her fingers, “He will take the black and be sent to the wall. He will have no titles, no land, no wife or children. He will have nothing for the rest of his life except for the Night’s Watch.”

Alicent was stunned, as was Aemond. He wondered if he would’ve preferred death.

“In addition,” Rhaenyra continued, “His claim to his dragon, Vhagar, will be severed. He will undergo the Valyrian ceremony for it.”

“You can’t,” Aemond growled, “You can’t!” he panicked— Vhagar had been the only thing he ever achieved in his life, truly. He lost his eye for her.

“Take him back to his cell and prepare him for the ride up the Kingsroad.” she said with finality, looking down at her hand as she sat back on the throne.

Aemond saw— she had been pricked by the throne, blood beading at the tip of her finger.

Mayhaps there are still small mercies in this world.

A particularly strong gust of cold air snapped him back to reality, his hand still itching over his dagger. They reached the thick treeline that stretched out for miles, their horses trudging through the snow.

They were at least ten miles out from the wall now, the Seven Kingdoms left truly well behind them. A small river trickled near them and Aemond saw the shadows of fish— large ones at that.

He had been in the Night’s Watch for at least seven moons now, and this was his first expedition outside of the wall. It felt like a whole different world— a world without laws, without political duty, without fights of succession over a throne made of swords— there was something freeing about being here. It was only a remnant of what he felt soaring the skies on Vhagar, but it would have to do.

The wind whistled through the branches of the trees, fresh snow beginning to fall. He heard a fly buzzing near his ear. No, that couldn’t be right. Surely there weren’t flies in the cold?

It wasn’t right— another fly whizzed past him, sticking into the man in front of him. Those were the arrows.

“Ambush! Wildlings!” Lord Fir shouted, reeling in his horse.

Aemond went to unsheathe his sword when his horse went haywire, rearing up on its hind legs. “Lykiri, lykiri!” Be calm, be calm. He shouted at the horse, tugging at the reins as the wildlings descended upon them. He felt like he was above Storm’s End once more, screaming for Vhagar to heed his commands—

His horse bucked him off, sending him tumbling into a deep snow drift. He dropped his sword somewhere aside— his hand immediately went to his waist, gripping around the Catspaw dagger.

A breath of relief washed over him as he rolled and hid behind a tree, unsheathing the dagger. He twirled it around, waiting for someone, anyone to cross his path.

He then felt the cool pressure of a blade against his throat.

“Don’t move, crow,” a voice said. It was almost diminutive, soft in tone— but it was threatening all the same, “I don’t need to paint the snow red with your blood just yet. Drop the dagger.”

Begrudgingly, he dropped the Valyrian steel into the snow.

“Now turn around, slowly. Keep your hands out.”

He turned around, expecting to see an ugly wildling in his gaze. He had only heard the tales of them, that they were more ugly than not.

His breath caught in his throat as he looked upon her— she was small, much smaller than he, her skin somewhat pale and cool toned, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. It was her eyes that caught him— one was a deep, rich brown, and the other was a light blue, with fragments and shards of brown in it, like a mountain against a clear sky. Her hair, dark chocolate brown with one streak of white in it, was tied into a haphazard braid. She wore earrings made of the lower jaw of some small mammal, inlaid with opals. She was holding a dragonglass dagger to his throat, the hilt of it carved from a deer’s antler, encrusted with a matching moonstone.

She wore a long, white coat— it looked to be the skin of some animal, but Aemond couldn’t tell which. It was spotted and fluffed.

His brow narrowed as he noticed that she was soaking wet, dripping water from her nose and hair, the sheen of moisture shining from her skin.

He could only imagine how astonished he looked staring at her— but she stared back at him in the same manner, her eyes wide. She had huge eyes, Gods be good.

“Fucking hell, you’ve got a purple eye.” she murmured.

“You should see my other eye.”

A harsh crack across his face— she had slapped him, “Don’t be a pig.”

Aemond blinked profusely, “By the Seven— I meant my actual other eye,” he grunted, “May I?” he gestured to his eyepatch.

“… better be worth it, crow.” she murmured, nodding slowly.

He lifted his eyepatch off, revealing the sapphire underneath.

Her lips were slightly agape as she ogled at him, “You’re a fancy crow, aren’t you?”

“Hm.” he grumbled.

She retrieved the Catspaw dagger from the ground, stowing it at her hip, “I’ll be keepin’ this for right now.”

“Aren’t you going to kill me?” he asked, perplexed as to why he wasn’t dead yet.

“Not yet— you got interesting eyes, I wanna show my papa,” she retrieved a leather cord from her belt and wrapped it keenly around his wrists, “Caught myself a crow.” she hummed, seemingly entertained with herself.

Aemond rolled his eye, letting her hoist him up into a standing position. He towered over her, to which she didn’t seem too bothered about.

She led him past the battle, which was now over. He saw three of his Night’s Watch brothers slain, and it looks like two others had run off like cravens, including Lord Commander Fir.

“Where are you taking me?”

“My tribe,” she replied, stringing him along.

“Your… tribe,” he repeated, “And what is your name?”

“Euna. And you, crow?”

“Aemond.”

#aemond fic #aemond x oc #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfic #aemond fandom #my writing #selkie's song

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vampyrsm · 8 months

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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER FIVE | KURAOKAMI

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale continues with the journey to escape the bloodied shrine. There's a saying that the boughs that bear the most hang the lowest, but perhaps you shouldn't reach for the boughs that bear fruit.

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 7.1k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Cannibalism, set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, dead bodies, descriptions of wounds, threats of violence/death, female reader, detailed body horror, cursed spirits, forced proximity.

It had been three days since you’d left the temple.

It had been three days since you killed multiple Samurai belonging to the Shogun.

It had been three days since you became a traitor.

The ride itself was extremely long, you still had no idea where Sukuna was taking you and he had no plans on telling you either. He was growing more and more agitated as the days went on, you had noticed he never slept at night and insisted on continuing to ride through the darkness to wherever he wanted to go.

His irritation at first you thought was directed at you, but then you heard the rumbling growl of his stomach. He hadn’t eaten in a while either. The hunger didn’t bother you quite as much as it did him, you were used to limited portions of food but you knew Sukuna had eaten a substantial amount daily.

You wondered if perhaps the next time you closed your eyes when he insisted on you resting, you’d never wake again as he gave in to the temptation of finally eating you. But it was always a surprise to reopen your eyes and find yourself in a new location — he wasn’t going to eat you, and you had no idea why.

The subject of food was heavy on the mind tonight as well, Sukuna had finally stopped but only for the night. He wanted to continue going but even you could see the horse you were both riding was at its limit, and if it were to die then you’d be stranded with no horse atop of all the other arising issues.

You stare blankly into the fire Sukuna had conjured with a snap of his fingers, it was warm; blisteringly so. Your once blood-soaked socks were now completely dry, given they were a little stiff at the tips of your toes where the blood had saturated them the most. Sukuna had refused to stop anywhere to clean, far too aware of the dangers that came with the attack on the temple.

It was growing colder with each passing minute, it was nearly time for winter. Soon snow will begin to fall from the clouds above, and that seemed daunting now that you had no real home anymore – not that the shrine was your home, but it was a warm place to stay… most of the time.

Sukuna himself was sitting across from you, his back pressed into the thick base of a tree trunk. He looked to be resting, all of his eyes were closed completely and his arms were loosely wrapped around his body. All four of them. Was he cold? He didn’t seem like the type of monster to get cold, he always felt hot to the touch when he manhandled you to the ground.

There’s another deep rumbling growl, and you’ve learned to understand that that specific sound was Sukuna’s stomach.

“Let me hunt.” You ask, and one of his upper eyes opens to stare at you with a deadpan expression. “We’re both hungry, Suk– Master Sukuna. Please.”

One of his large hands raises up for a moment, long fingers dragging along his chin and mouth as if he were in deep thought. You could tell he was apprehensive about letting you wander into the forest, plus to give you back your bow would ensure you had the weaponry to possibly kill him if you wanted.

You can already see the disagreement forming on his tongue, so you scramble to try and reason with him. “I won’t run away. I’m as good as dead if I leave. I have no horse, and I have no idea where we are. It’s too cold to run away.”

“You could never outrun me, little one. I’d find you in a heartbeat.”

You don’t doubt his words. He was most definitely at the top of the food chain, he was practically designed for hunting down humans.

“So please, let me find us some food before we both starve.”

It’s quiet for a second, a second too long because it only makes you feel more anxious. He’s going to tell you no, you can tell. He doesn’t trust you enough to let you go venture into the forest at night to catch food. You’re going to starve to death before you get anywhere, or perhaps he’d finally snap and eat you before you wasted away—

“Fine.” He huffs, and there’s a clatter of the bow and a few arrows you managed to scavenge across the floor as he chucks them at you. “If you’re not back within the hour, I’ll be the one doing the hunting.”

You imagine he’d get a kick out of hunting you in the night, so you don’t hesitate in grabbing the weapon and standing up just as quickly. Sukuna seems to be letting his eyes close once again, arms returning to their resting position over his chest.

Slipping out of the protection of the firelight, you venture further into the surrounding forest. It’s silent, save for the rustling of the undergrowth beneath your feet. With each step taking you further and further away from Sukuna, the forest grows denser; the trepidation in the air is stifling. You hadn’t quite realised how safe you felt whilst travelling with Sukuna, it was as if he naturally scared everything away in the area.

The notion of feeling safe with Sukuna wasn’t lost on you, you could never feel safe with him. Not after what you’d seen from him in such a short amount of time, and that’s not including the multiple times he’s told you he’d feast on your bones.

And yet with every softly muffled step into the forest, you couldn’t help but want to listen to the voice that whispered for you to scurry back to the safety of the fire. But you couldn’t. You had to eat. You had no idea where you were even going with Sukuna, he could ride for another 3 days and you’d most likely starve by then. You had to find something.

You know not to travel too far, just far enough that whatever is living in the woods doesn’t get spooked by the natural aura of death that follows Sukuna around like a shadow. So you don’t. You wander until the fog thins enough to see more than a few feet in front of you, there’s a clearing up ahead that shows promise.

It’s a small meadow, surrounded by tall trees that stand solemnly silent. Maybe everything would be asleep now, you could kill a deer maybe if it was resting – that’d be the best, there’s no risk of it fleeing. The bow is adjusting in your hands, an arrow slipping into place so you’re ready to draw back the string the second you spot your target.

You crouch low in the grass, moving closer and closer to the clearing. There’s no sound to indicate anything was actually here but you couldn’t give up hope just yet. Once you breach the shadowy line of the trees, you’re exposed to the overhead moon that illuminates all the blood that’s caked into your skin and clothes.

Up ahead is a singular tree in the centre of the clearing, it’s a little odd but nonetheless, you approach it. Its golden leaves shimmer in the moonlight and that’s when you notice the large hanging fruit on each of the branches. There are plentiful amounts of fruit, all of them glistening as if they were ripe for the picking.

You lower the bow for a second, shifting to holding it with one hand whilst using your now free hand to reach up towards the tree. The branches are thankfully low enough that you can grasp one of the fruits, just one of them is larger than your entire palm and a little squishy — were they actually rotten?

Plucking the fruit from the branch, you feel the fruit once again now that it was free. Your finger sinks into something wet, sticky, like the type of sticky when you’d squeeze a tangerine just a little too hard. There’s a snicker behind you and you turn as quick as you can, body whipping around to see who or what had followed you to the tree—...

But there’s no one there.

Another laugh, a snicker and a hushed whisper. Multiple voices. Was it that thing in the closet? Had it followed you out here into the wilderness and waited until you were far enough away from Sukuna to strike? The prospect of such a thing had your heart racing, the drum of your pulse pounding relentlessly against your ears.

Along with the voices, there’s a sharp pinching pain to your palm holding the fruit and in your shock, you drop it. It hits the floor with a thud and you watch as it rolls, slowly revealing a face on the fruit that continues to laugh. The other fruits on the branches seem to rejoice in the fact they had tricked you into getting close enough, they jeer and laugh in high-pitched voices.

“Got you!” it repeats over and over, voices from every direction. It feels like a dream, a bad dream, as you watch the fruit's faces grin wide until you see sharp teeth. “Got you! Got you!”

All you can think of is to run. Whatever the hell this thing was, it was a trap. It lured you in, knowing you were hungry, it was a malevolent thing. Without a second thought, you dash forward and your foot squelches into the fruit that had been dropped in your hand. Except it isn’t quite the squelch of a fruit, more of a crunching cracking noise.

It makes you shiver, a sickening wave of bile rising in your throat. The treeline of the forest you had been safely submerged in seems to be growing further and further away, the moonlight stretching on and on. What was going on? Nothing made sense. Nothing had made sense since you laid eyes on a man with four arms.

Suddenly, hands clamp down on either side of your legs, another large appendage coming to slither around your midsection. It’s rough and scrapes at your skin as it digs into the material of your ruined kimono, and only then do you recognise that texture; it’s wood. The tree behind you continues to move, morphing its once idle branches into makeshift bonds that work to drag you backwards.

Fruitlessly you try to grasp at the grass once it tugs harshly on your feet, causing you to fall face-first into the ground. Your bow is long forgotten in an attempt to grasp at the tall grass, to have any sort of leverage to try and get yourself out of this situation. But the pain is nothing compared to the fear that works its way through your body. You were going to die. You were going to be killed by a tree.

You can only glance slightly over your shoulder in horror when you hear a deep groan, a large mouth opening up in the centre of it. Its tongue lolls out, and its teeth are sharp-pointed pieces of bark. The faces continue to laugh, squealing in delight when you finally scream.

You scream, for what? You’re not sure. But it feels like the only thing you can do when a monstrous tree is lapping at your feet — quite literally. Its tongue is long, coarse as if it were the tongue of a cat. It licks along the base of your blood-dried socks, and then you feel the sharp prongs of its teeth starting to bite at your calves.

It feels worse than any wound you’ve ever had, it feels like you’re being devoured by a tiger made of wood. The teeth continue to chomp and tear until finally, your flesh gives way, it clamps down at the realisation your skin has finally broken.

The next scream that bubbles up your throat is agonising, it burns at your throat as do the tears that stream uselessly down your cheeks. Your vision blurs and all you can do is stare uselessly up at the sneering mocking faces of fruits hanging above you when you twist and turn in the tree's unrelenting grasp.

You didn’t want your final moments to be you scraping desperately at the ground, the dirt biting into your nails until they threatened to snap. You didn’t want your final moments to be filled with absolute terror. You didn’t. This wasn’t anywhere near the honourable death Samurai often spoke of so fondly, it felt humiliating.

The tears burn hotter against your face, blinking only making them thicken more in your lashes until all you can see is a blurry outline of the moon in the sky. The tree grows closer and closer with each awful groan of its large mouth as it continues to draw you in, closer and closer—

There’s a horrendous screeching sound. Like a high-pitched squeal of an injured animal, and with it comes an unbearable heat that nips at your exposed injured legs. Clawed hands grasp roughly against your shoulders and then you’re tugged with far too much force, the branches holding you hostage snap off from you and flail viciously in the air.

“You’re truly hopeless.” A familiar gruff voice snarls from above you, and through the dampness of your eyes, you’re able to see it’s Sukuna who continues to pull you away from the tree. His hands grip a little tighter to your shoulders before he practically throws you into the shadow of the treeline again, the impact makes you cry out in pain.

You huff against the dirt, it sticks to the wet streaks on your cheeks and in the cracks of your lips. He saved you. Sukuna saved you from being eaten by a tree. It seemed illogical to think such a thing, he didn’t seem like the type to save anyone — anyone that wasn’t himself, that is. And yet here you are, pushing up just enough on your hands to peer over the long blades of grass to watch Sukuna’s back.

“What a poor excuse of a cursed spirit.” Sukuna huffs, two of his arms cross over his chest whilst the other two unfurl and curl his claws at his sides. “Disgusting. Using trickery to lure in your victims… so weak.”

The tree-curse continues to scream in agony as the bright flames you recognise as Sukuna’s continue to ravage it, and the multitude of faces twist in agony. It’s sickening to watch but you can’t draw your eyes away from Sukuna. The moonlight bathes him in a soft white, it rolls down his back along the exposed tattoos and it makes the pink of his hair look almost peach-y.

Sukuna continues to advance on the burning tree, not even having to stretch when one of his arms reaches up to grasp at one of the fruits that hadn’t been hit by the flames yet. He watches on, as if observing a bonfire, when his teeth sink into the face of the fruit. It screams until it’s silenced with a sickening crunch.

“Ha! So they are still human. What do you do? Do you roll them into these little fruits and hang them? Oh, what a waste…” He licks at the juices on his fingers, polishing off the rest of the fruit. His voice fades as he continues to talk to the tree, the frantic pumping of your heart is too loud, as it beats in an attempt to stop you from bleeding out in the underbrush of a tree.

Your eyes grow heavier, the figure of Sukuna once again becoming a distant blur and you can only just make out the flexing of one arm with all his claws bared before the tree explodes into nothing but leaves and bark. The remains of the curse flutter around in the wind, flames dancing in the air like fireflies.

There’s a rustle of clothing and heavy footsteps nearby. Large hands grab at you, hoisting you up into an overly warm chest. You expect Sukuna to carry you back as if you were just a sack of potatoes, but it’s surprising to feel one of his hands engulf the back of your head to support it fully whilst your legs are draped over another arm to stop them from swinging freely.

He’s handling you with too much care for a monster like him. “Pathetic.” Well. Perhaps only just a little bit of care.

...

A gentle warmth licks at your now-dried cheeks, it strokes and soothes your frazzled mind into a sense of security; you feel safe again. Wherever you are is undoubtedly comfortable, much better than the horse you had been riding on for the past few days. It smells faintly familiar, like the water of the hot spring back at the temple.

You don’t move for a while, simply just lying there in between being awake and asleep. You listen to the noises of the fire, the crackling of the dry branches that snap and pop. It’s almost enough to soothe you completely, to forget the ordeal of what had happened.

“I know you’re awake, stop wallowing in your shame.” Almost.

Reluctantly you peel your eyes open, they feel stiff like you have been asleep for a while. The sky above you is a faint blue, lightening with each second as the morning starts to break. How long have you been out? It must’ve been a few hours, at the very least. Sukuna hadn’t made any attempt to wake you up earlier either, which was oddly considerate of him.

The whole thing was oddly considerate of him. He didn’t need to save you. He didn’t need to destroy that tree. He definitely didn’t need to carry you all the way back to where you had both settled for the night. You shift your gaze to the aforementioned man, he’s still on the opposite side of the fire to you but he seems to be munching on something.

Immediately your interest is piqued, and you sit up in your haste to see if he had maybe on the off-chance left any food for you. Sukuna watches you over the fire, his lower set of eyes are shut completely you notice when you meet his gaze.

He doesn’t say anything yet, simply continues to eat whatever lump of meat is in his hand. It’s different this time, however; it’s cooked. He’s eating something that was cooked, you had seen him eat raw meat a handful of times now – you just assumed that was his preference.

“Did you only cook food for yourself?” You can’t help but nearly pout over the idea of being left to starve once again whilst the self-appointed King continues to eat his share. Sukuna just snickers in response, another mouthful of whatever tender meat he’s holding in a large hand.

“What an awfully bitter tone from someone who nearly got eaten by a tree.” Ah, of course, you wouldn’t have expected anything less from Sukuna. Of course he’d mock you for your near demise with an overgrown shrub. Now you really do pout.

“Quit your pouting. I left plenty for you.” He says it in a way that sounds like he’s disgusted at the fact he had to share his food with you. You narrow your eyes back towards him and he does a subtle gesture with one of his unoccupied hands to the floor.

You follow his direction to find that he had actually cut slices of meat for you and even cooked them, they’re laid out on a piece of cloth that looks a little too like the fabric of the black hakama he wore often. You sneak a glance at him when you lean over to grab your own piece, and yes, he had ripped part of his trousers off to serve as a makeshift plate for the food.

Part of you wants to comment on it, poke a stick at the bear but you’d rather not have your food privileges revoked. So you snatch it, maybe a little too hastily, from the ripped material and Sukuna doesn’t do anything to hide the chuckle that rumbles in his chest.

Your lips part to sink your teeth into the meat but you hesitate, just an inch or so between your tongue and the meat. What if this wasn't an animal? He wouldn’t feed you human meat, right? He would’ve left that raw, why would he cook a human? That didn’t seem like his style—

“It’s venison. Stop overthinking so much, I can hear it from over here.” He reaches for another slab of his own meat, but this time it was raw. The blood curls around his fingers when he gives it a squeeze, and he seems rather entranced by it. He had been starving just as much as you, you don’t doubt that he’s craving for something a little more… beef-like.

You were far too hungry however to turn down the food. You just had to believe him. So you throw caution to the wind and sink your teeth into the cooked meat, immediately you can tell it’s not human. It’s most definitely venison, it’s rich and cooked well – again, odd, you never pinned Sukuna as a cook.

It’s silent for a spell, bar the sounds of eating from you and the awful ripping sounds from Sukuna as he continues to tear his food apart with his teeth alone.

In the silence, your mind goes begrudgingly back to the whole ordeal beforehand. The tree. Sukuna had called it a cursed spirit, right? Is that what they were? Was that what the monster in the shadows of the utility closet was? A cursed spirit? You had heard of Yokai, is that just what this was? It didn’t seem like it. It was something… worse.

When that tree had grabbed you with the intention of eating you, you only felt overwhelming dread and fear and it seemed to strive off of it. So did that mean cursed spirits were an accumulation of emotion? Negative ones, specifically? Your father had never taught you anything like this. Did Samurai get taught to also battle cursed spirits?

Your mind goes back to the man with the oceanic eyes. He seemed to be human and yet he had odd abilities… Was he a cursed spirit? No. Still alive. Curse user? Isn’t that the phrase the Samurai with blue eyes had said to you? That you were a Curse user’s whore? It was too much to wrap your head around, you couldn’t understand it truly without asking questions… and with a quick glance to the only man who would have all the answers, you decided against it.

Sukuna wouldn’t entertain your mind, he only did that on his own terms.

As if sensing the disdain you held for him, Sukuna glares at you. His bloodied hands hang limp between his legs whilst his elbows are balanced on his propped knees. “What is it? Speak your mind.”

“What was that thing?”

“Thing?” He lamely replies, tending to the chunks of meat stuck to his nails by picking at them and flinging them to the side. “Be more specific. I could name a number of things.”

This asshole. He knew exactly what you were referencing. He just wanted to hear you say it. “That tree. With the fruit.”

Sukuna shrugs, “Just that. A tree with human fruit. What of it?”

“Is… is that a normal thing? I mean, I’ve never seen a tree like that—” You counter quickly, not wanting to lose the chance to get more from him.

“You’re just as clueless as you are helpless I see.” He huffs, leaning back into the tree, you can hear it creak just a little beneath the weight he pushes against it. “It was a cursed spirit. Though I’m sure you’ve figured that much out already, you’re smart enough for that I’m sure.”

“Are you a cursed spirit too?” The glare sent your way is withering, his nose is scrunched in annoyance and all four eyes almost glow with the threat behind them.

“Do I look like I’m weak to you? Cursed spirits are a weak combination of human emotions. I am not that.”

So he was definitely human. Even with the four arms and two faces, he was still undeniably human. Why did he do all of this to himself? He ate other humans, he wasn’t sickened by the idea of it. If anything, cannibalism seemed to excite him; a thrill in doing the unspeakable.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask him, you wanted to understand him more. You’re not sure why, maybe you could call it just sick morbid curiosity. You’d never encountered anything like this. Before everything, you had been living a relatively quiet life.

“No more incessant questions. Eat your food and get some rest.”

“If I do. Will you tell me where we’re going?”

Sukuna raises an eyebrow in your direction, you’d expect a glare to accompany it but instead, he looks mildly amused. “You wish to bargain with me?”

It didn’t seem like a wise idea to bargain with a man like Sukuna, and yet you had laid out the terms. You’d do as you were told in exchange for information. It seemed like a fair deal.

“Yes. I’ll do as I was told if you tell me where we’re going.”

A rare smile makes itself known on Sukuna’s face, it’s hard to see past the flickering amber fire and smoke that rises with it but you think you see it before he rubs a hand along his jaw. “Your audacity knows no bounds I see. I should expect nothing less from the woman who had tried to kill me twice.”

He didn’t sound angry about your attempts on his life, in fact, he seemed rather jovial about it. As if you were simply a puppy nipping at his ankles demanding attention.

“Fine. We’re heading North, into the mountains. No clan has laid claim up there, the Shogun won’t follow us.”

Your lips part to ask another question, and the glare that Sukuna shoots you is harsh. A silent warning to not press your luck. So you don’t. You obey the deal you had made with him and return to eating your food, but it tastes bland on your tongue. Your mind is working far too fast for you to enjoy finally being able to eat something with substance.

What was in the mountains? What made it so safe for men like Sukuna to live up there without fear of the Shogun following? Or rather a better question would be, what frightened the Shogun so much to not pursue Sukuna to the north? You didn’t think it’d be possible for something to exist that was more terrifying than the demon Sukuna portrayed himself as.

You and Sukuna didn’t speak again for the rest of the night or rather the breaking of dawn, he kept to his side of the fire whilst you slept on the ground on the other side. You could feel his gaze on you for a long time, it had made it initially difficult to sleep until exhaustion took over.

…

The peaceful lull of sleep however was ripped away from you when you were nudged with something, hard. It didn’t bother you the first time, but when it had come again this time even harder you had no choice but to open your eyes to see what was bothering you.

Looking over your shoulder you’re met with legs, and you follow them up to see Sukuna standing over you with a less-than-impressed look on his face. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, what did he want? Did he just want to disturb your sleep for the sake of it? Another nudge and you realise he was kicking you awake.

His frown vanishes when he sees the annoyance settle in your features, the twitch of your lips as if you wanted to spew some of the vilest of things to him. A part of you wants to finally let your tongue loose to tell him just how you feel about him, but you know to hold your tongue lest you wish to lose it.

Sukuna huffs at the realisation you won’t entertain him with your foul language, turning his gaze away from you. “Get up. We’re leaving.”

So curt. But you do as you’re told, you get up from the floor and stretch your body out. The floor had been undeniably uncomfortable, the small rocks and twigs that dug into your back and side had bothered you the entire night but you weren’t going to complain. Who knows when you’d get the chance to sleep properly again.

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, simply turning away from you and towards where he had hitched the horse for the night. It’s automatic now to follow after him, to make sure you don’t stray too far in case anything unsavoury decides to leap out of the growing shadows to snatch you away.

You find yourself once again caged in between four arms and a warm chest, the ride itself is unpleasant. Unpleasant in the sense that it’s awfully silent again, and there’s a tension in the air the further you venture further north. Soon the leaves on the trees die out completely, leaving behind bare skeletons of branches that shake with each biting cold breeze.

The grass fades into a dull brown before finally it’s coated in a thick white. Snowflakes fall heavily from the sky, sticking to your eyelashes and burning with ice-cold intensity against your heated cheeks. You’d never been so far north before, you had always been stuck in Heian-kyo growing up where the Shogun’s palace resided. Snowfall that far south was very rare, you would’ve been lucky to see it settle on the ground before it melted into nothing.

Around you is an endless amount of milky white, a blur when Sukuna pushes the horse to hurry its pace despite the struggle through the quickly thickening snow. You still have no idea where he’s trying to reach that requires him to travel so far north and into the mountains. But your lips are far too cold to ask him if you were nearly there.

In fact, it felt like your entire body was slowly being overtaken by the prickly cold that snapped and bit at your exposed skin. The kimono you were wearing had been ruined a while ago, it no longer held tightly to your skin in the right places and whilst it wasn’t a bother before; it certainly was now.

Sukuna behind you is still only wearing those same hakama trousers and yet he shows no signs of being cold, the hairs on his arms aren’t raised and he isn’t covered in goosebumps. Did he just naturally run warmer or was this an unnatural consequence for the monster he was turning himself into?

“Shiver any harder and I will throw you from the back of this horse.” He grunts far too closely to your ear, the warmth of his breath is a pleasant bite against your nearly frost-bitten skin and you can’t stop the shiver no matter what you do. “Unbelievable.”

His arms shift and you’re certain he’s going to follow through with his threats, a large hand grasps at your side. “Wait! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, it’s just so cold!” You plead and plead, but Sukuna stays silent as his claws sink into the fabric of your sullied Kimono. You try to grab at his arm that’s holding your kimono, anything to just hold on when he tries to inevitably throw you off the horse and into the snow.

But suddenly you’re engulfed in a type of warmth that’s all-consuming. It wraps around your front and along your back, the weight that comes with it ensures that no heat escapes the tight embrace you find yourself coiled in. Sukuna’s two free arms wrap around your waist, one up along your chest and shoulder to hold you securely to his chest. His head is lower, enough that you can see the rough edge of his second face and the tattoos on his jaw.

He’s holding you.

“Enough. I tire of both your whining and your nattering teeth.” He exhales the words heavily, his chest presses more into your back and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart. It pounds against your back, and soon you find your own racing blood calming down to match the languid pace he set.

You can’t find yourself wanting to ask why he felt the need to keep you warm himself out of fear that he’d rip it away from you. Instead, you lean more into him, slowly at first until you melt completely into the hold he has over you. His arms don’t loosen however, they continue to squeeze you close as if he’s trying to absorb you into the comfort of his own flesh.

Soon, the ground starts to level out from the deep snow the horse was dredging through. The sound of hooves against stone has your head rising from its buried state within your kimono–and the arms that still hold you tightly–and sure enough. The horse is traversing along a man-made path, the large stones aren’t buried, which could only mean one thing. Someone had been through here recently.

The path winds and turns, passing through low-hanging snow-covered branches that cause Sukuna to push you down into the horse's neck to avoid being hit by the branch. It becomes harder to breathe the further you traverse along the path, the air slowly thinning until it feels daunting to take a breath in case there is no oxygen left.

It’s not before long that the path reveals its destination. You expect to finally be at the place Sukuna wanted to reach but instead, you’re met with charred wood that once resembled a gate. The sense of deja vu that washes over you elicits another violent shiver that in turn has Sukuna crushing you further into his chest.

Though it’s not an estate that you enter as you pass through the burned gate, instead it’s a village. Or the remains of one. The empty houses are beyond a state of repair, the wooden roofs are caved in and snow inhabits the once-lived-in walls. The wind that blows through whistles against the shattered shoji doors and rattles the loose wooden boards.

“What happened?” You ask, perhaps it’s a foolish question because Sukuna laughs lowly over your shoulder. You can feel the way his mouth draws up into that malicious grin from how he’s leaning his head next to your own.

“I think you already know the answer to that one, dove.”

And you do. You don’t doubt that this was his doing. The charred wood is enough to tell you that this village had been burned down but the more you glance around, the more you recognise the deep slashes that have embedded themselves in both solid stone and wooden beams. Sukuna had destroyed this village.

There’s destruction in every direction you look, he hadn’t spared anyone in this village it looked like. The horse slows its gait as it reaches the centre of the village, a large courtyard-type area that leads in different directions of the village and each way is in a similar state of disarray.

Except when you look to the left, your entire body seizes up. In the distance is a woman. She stands in the heavy snowfall, completely still. Her hair is as black as the night sky above, only a slither of moonlight highlights her existence in the distance.

Her body is draped in a long white kimono, loose on her upper body. Her shoulders are completely exposed, as well as the tops of her breasts. How was she not cold? The tall woman continues to stand idly, unmoving and blending in with the snow that falls around her until finally, her head twitches.

The horse beneath you is moving much slower through the slog of thick snow that gathered in the courtyard, and it seems the woman has noticed the trapped position you find yourself in. Her head raises slowly, enough to expose the near-transparency of her white skin and the blue tint of her frost-bitten lips.

But before she fully lifts her head, a large hand is pressed over your eyes. “Don’t look at her.” Sukuna’s voice is lowered to a near whisper beside your head. “She feasts on your fear. Do not grant her it.”

A Cursed Spirit. That’s what the woman was, did that make her once a human that inhabited this place? An unfortunate soul that couldn’t quite move on from the mass destruction of her home and out of spite she returns to haunt whoever dares step foot into her village.

You can hear her hushed whispers that travel on the wind, a gentle murmur of ‘Look.’ over and over. And still, Sukuna doesn’t relinquish the hold he has over your eyes. If anything he ensures your head is turned in the opposite direction of the woman and more into his neck. He must know what that curse was capable of to go to such lengths to ensure your safety.

The hand disappears from your face eventually, revealing another path that leads out of the village and up the mountain. Large red torii gates lead the way upwards, and a sense of dread sits in your stomach at the realisation he was taking you to another shrine. You wonder if perhaps it’d be the same as the last one, filled with women who serve Sukuna’s every whim.

How did they survive up here so far north in the blistering cold? How will you survive?

“Who was that woman?” You ask once you’re certain you’re far away from the village that you can spare a quick glance between Sukuna’s arms to the slowly dwindling village on the horizon.

“A vengeful curse. It’s rare that they happen, but when they do, they’re near impossible to get rid of.” You’re surprised he had actually supplied a proper answer, so you nod your head in semi-understanding and settle into the warmth of his embrace.

Thankfully the ride is not much longer. Soon you pass through another gate, one that’s much more well-kept. The shrine inside is much larger than the previous one you had been residing in, in fact, you’d say this was more of a temple than anything. Had a Lord once lived here and Sukuna had forced him out of it? That seems likely.

The warm arms around you disappear in favour of lifting you and depositing you on the floor before he too drops into the snow. Again, he doesn’t wait for you to follow and instead heads directly for the grand doors that lead inside. You hurry along behind him, eager to get out of the snow and maybe somewhere warm to sleep.

Sukuna pushes the grandiose doors with far too much ease, the old wood creaks with the effort and a gust of wind blows in small flecks of snow across the polished wooden floor.

Polished recently, you realise as you step inside after him before the doors slam closed. It’s silent inside. Not a single gust of wind squeals against the cracks of windows or poor infrastructure.

“Come.” Sukuna orders before marching his way down the large corridor, he most definitely knows his way around with the easy way he travels through empty rooms and corridors until he finds what he was looking for.

Another set of doors, they remind you of the ones you had seen in the shrine that led to Sukuna’s throne room. The fear that instals itself into your bones is tenfold as he pushes open the door, instead of the stone flooring in the old room — there is an endless expanse of blood.

It fills in what might’ve once been koi ponds, the thick crimson ripples with each bounding step Sukuna takes into the room and you follow after him despite the voice screaming at you to turn around and run.

“You insolent fool.” Sukuna snarls, and you snap your gaze up at him expecting to be looking at you but instead, he’s staring up ahead. “How dare you sit up there as if you were me!”

Someone was here? The answer to your internal question comes swiftly with a laugh, a woman's laugh.

“Apologies, Master Sukuna.” The unknown lady laments, though you can sense no sincerity in her apology. There are footsteps leading down from what you assume to be the throne that you can’t quite see over Sukuna’s shoulders.

“I just wanted to know what it was like to be a King. Even for a moment.”

Sukuna growls, that deep rumbling one that threatens to tear down the entire building. It shakes even you where you stand. “If you weren’t so useful, I’d have your head on a spike for your blatant disrespect.”

The woman hums in amusement, and you can hear the intake of breath before she stops what she was going to reply with a retort to Sukuna. But instead, she settles on asking “Who do you have hiding behind you? A scared little lamb, perhaps?”

Your blood freezes in your veins, anchoring your feet in place and you can’t hide when Sukuna steps aside enough to reveal you to whoever was brave enough to laugh in the face of Sukuna.

The woman before you is tall, her long black hair cascades down her back and the kimono she wears is a deep shade of purple. She smiles widely when you meet her gaze before your eyes drift slowly up towards the stitches and scar that line her forehead. What could cause that sort of damage?

“My. She is quite the beautiful one.” The woman advances towards you, and you can do nothing to move. She looms over you, a sickening grin growing on her face as she laps up the evident fear that shows itself on your face.

This was no regular human woman, this wasn’t someone Sukuna kept around to do his cleaning. She was beyond that. She was one of them. The same as Sukuna.

A Curse User — and a very strong one at that.

“She’s not for you.” Sukuna snarls, and the woman raises her eyebrows for a second in surprise. She leans back just enough to let you breathe again before she looks over her shoulder towards Sukuna.

“No? This one belongs to you?” It’s a provocative question, a challenge to see if Sukuna would give a real reason as to why the woman couldn’t have you. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you protect—”.

Immediately green eyes are snapped back towards you, the woman widens her eyes the longer she stares at you.

“Oh. I see.”

‣‣ Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#dead dove do not eat #cw dark content #tw cannibalism #cw violence #cw body horror #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader

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robinette-green · 2 months

Text

Two Hunters and a Bloodsucker

My life is good for what it is. Except that I’m dead. Well, undead. I’ve been undead for about 15 years now, and I haven’t aged a day.

Being a vampire hiding among humans can be difficult at times, mainly dealing with sunlight and avoiding mirrors, but I manage. I’ve been living and working in this little town as the town blacksmith for about 7 years now, and I’ve become a full-fledged member of the little community here.

I thought I had been doing a good job hiding my presence among the humans, but one day two of the most well-known vampire hunters came into town. If they find out what I am, they will kill me, but both of them have become intent on becoming my friends and maybe more. How can I keep myself from being discovered when two hunters are trying to romance me?

Current word count: 58,520

Tags: Sun and Moon are humans, Fluff and Angst, Sun and Moon are vampire hunters, Blood, Not beta read we die like men!, Blood Drinking, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Angst and Feels, MC is a vampire, Mild Gore

AO3 Chapter Links:

Chapter 1: Hiding in Plain Sight Two vampire hunters come to town and ask me to forge them some silver bullets

Chapter 2: Complications Despite trying to avoid both hunters, I run into both and the flirting intensifies

Chapter 3: Deadly Romance The two hunters watch me work and I accidentally take a nap on the roof of my workshop

Chapter 4: This is a chapter I’ve gone too long without drinking blood but I need to finish these bullets.

Chapter 5: Leaving The hunters take me with them when they leave to take care of their next job

Chapter 6: This is Also a Chapter On the road and the hunters start asking me questions about being a vampire

Chapter 7: Chapter Name Here We reach a little seaside town and get a room at an inn

Chapter 8: Why do Chapters Need Names? It’s morning and we meet with an old friend of the hunters

Chapter 9: I Refuse to Come up With Another Real Chapter Name Classic horror movie setting. A thunderstorm and an old rickety house on a cliff.

Chapter 10: This Chapter has a Fight in it … This chapter had a fight in it.

Chapter 11: Really Dead? Lives are saved and we’re on the road again

Chapter 12: Hot Stuff (I’m not sorry) We make it to the capital city and meet the hunters’ uncle

Chapter 13: Well… Blood, a nap, and a nighttime walk

Chapter 14: AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! “What happened to ‘I need time?’”

Chapter 15: What are Emotions? Floating on a fluffy cloud of fluff.

Chapter 16: Calm before the Storm Food and new clothes

Chapter 17: Chapter The Hunters Guild

Chapter 18: Chapter the next Late night visitors and a trip to a famous smithy

Chapter 19: Beginning of the End Things aren’t always what they seem

Chapter 20: Loss and Blood Escaping and meeting a horse

Chapter 21: Running Trying to get back to town

Chapter 22: Chapter plus a number of Meeting old friend and coming up with a plan

Chapter 23: Body Chute Sneaking in to save the day

Chapter 24: Hell Fire We’re here to save the day! But can we get away?

Chapter 25: The Worst Chapter

Horrible things happen

Chapter 26: IN PROGRESS

#glitter rock #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #sun and moon x reader #dca fandom #fnaf sun and moon #dca fanfic #two hunters and a bloodsucker #glitter rock writing

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brighttears · 11 months

Text

Finally

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description except female sex organs and having hair, no use of y/n

Summary: After losing contact with your lover Joel and his brother for five years, Tommy finds you and brings you into Jackson. You reunite with Joel but it doesn't take long for him to project his insecurity onto you. You talk to Tommy about it until Joel comes and finds you. You have make up sex/five years overdue sex, and end with a shower that eases some feelings out of you as you relax in your new home with Joel

Word count: 7.7k

Warnings: (18+, MINORS DNI) PIV unprotected sex, creampie, mating press, slight hair pulling, slight edging, dirty talk, Joel has a big ol weiner, pet names (baby, babygirl, good girl, sweet girl, darling, my love), you and Joel have an argument, ‘slut’ used derogatorily, accused cheating, brief drinking, kind of insecure!Joel, Tess doesn’t exist

A/n: this is the longest it’s ever taken me to post anything lol (and also the longest thing i’ve written i think?). the quality will not correlate I was messing around with like four other ideas this is the just the only one that got somewhere, also been having way less time to write and that will probably continue 3: also finally did smut (for the one person who has said they want me to lol love u)

—

Riding up to the gates of Jackson, you feel like a teenager on their first day of high school, distractingly nervous but drifted forward by hopeful butterflies. You grip the leather reins and look to Tommy riding beside you, he grants you a reassuring grin. In front of you, the gates, made of lines of thick logs with a large rusty lock, start to groan open. Tommy slips through before you and you follow him into a different world—a ghost and dream, lit up by string lights, appearing warm despite the winter, healthy and alive. Your focus, however, concentrates on the faces, many of which are looking back at your new one. Flicking from one to the next, your heart rises and falls with every one that isn’t Joel’s. Tommy’s promise has your senses perked up like an animal.

Ahead of you on the road, you double take a man with his back to you. Despite this and his hair being too gray, his posture and step are unmistakable.

“Joel,” you utter, soft, a reaction rather than a call out; it croaks out of your throat, dusty from all its time stuck there. Awakened, his name erupts from you then, “Joel,”

The man stops dead, then whirls around, and you stop breathing because it is him. Unable to look away, you stumble off of your horse and begin to walk towards him. It’s silent, almost frighteningly so, even if it’s just in your head, because it makes it feel like a dream, like if you so much as blink he’ll be gone or you’ll be awake.

Joel mirrors you, then jogs, you feel hot tears behind your eyes, and then you collide, grabbing at each other like you’re making up for every lost embrace from the past five years apart. He makes a sound, holding you with his cheek on the side of your head. You shake once with a cry, a mixture of shock that keeps your eyes wide open, though blind, actualization flowing through you and into your fingers digging into his thick coat and tangling in his hair, dregs of sorrow and resentment against time finally detaching like leeches, and love, powerfully swirling around everything inside of you.

Then you hear his voice for the first time, “Oh, baby,” and your eyes squeeze shut and you start to cry, and he holds you tighter. You can’t stop it, fueled by relief in the intense familiarity of the pressure of his arms, his scent, his voice, the way he breathes.

Once you’re breathing properly, Joel pulls away, holding your waist. He looks you over, making sure you’re real and here, and when you are, he slips a hand under your jaw and pulls your wet face into a kiss. For a moment your lips are simply pressed, frozen, overwhelmed, and then they move, and you kiss starved, revived. The feeling of sanctuary rekindling floods you, your face quivering with tears, and you have to pull apart for a breath.

And Joel is still here, and you hold his face in your hands because he’s so beautiful and he’s finally here. You take in each other’s new features—wrinkles, grays, scars. You slide your thumb over his cheek, feeling his rough skin, and then you meet in the stars in each other’s blown out pupils.

Simultaneously, you start to giggle, giddy, and then you guffaw, holding each other, and Joel pulls you back in. Tightly, he sways you like a doll, and you feel his laughter through his body like against a speaker playing heavy base. Being in his arms feels like life being unpaused.

“Tommy!” He cries over your shoulder, still laughing, “Where the fuck did’you find ‘er?” Still held tightly against him, you can’t hear Tommy’s response, but then Joel repeats “Oh, baby.” and leans his head down to loudly kiss the side of your face.

You pull away and admire him. No image that you’d drawn up in your imagination compares to Joel in the flesh. Running your hand through his longer, silvered hair, you realize just how much you were missing out on.

“I found you.” You whisper.

He chuckles with a wide smile, “You found me.” And then takes you back to him, “I missed you so much, baby.”

“I missed you to death.” You mumble into him.

Tommy’s voice sounds nearby, chuckling “Don’t smother ‘er to death, we just got ‘er back!” You part and turn to look at him with a rawly genuine grin. A sincere smile curves back. You thank him through your eyes and he nods. Joel strides past you to hug his brother, long and meaningful.

Then he turns to you, hand still on Tommy’s shoulder, and looks you up and down. “Come on, you must be freezin’, I’ll take you up to the house.”

“The house?” You question as he guides you back up the road.

“The house.” He confirms with an amiable smirk, hugging you to his side by an arm wrapped around you.

—

“I know, I know!” Joel enthuses as he closes the door behind you, watching you turn in a circle, mouth agape, taking in the house, which is actually fully intact, walls and furniture alike, basically clean. It smells like Joel and his jacket hangs on the pegboard on the wall next to the door. An acoustic guitar leans against the couch, which has a blanket hung over the back, there’s a mug out on the table, probably still half full and cold—this is Joel’s house.

“Look, look,” he calls and rushes to the kitchen sink. He turns the handle and water flows out in a powerful stream, and you stride over, mouth still open in astonishment. You put your hand under the faucet and feel the water heating up.

“Hot water!?” You cry, and you both burst out laughing again in joyful gratitude. You stop suddenly and Joel turns off the faucet. “Does this mean… shower?” Joel gives you a dramatic frown, raising his brows and shrugging, then nods his head to the stairs. Tugging at his arm, you cry out his name, thrilled. He takes off and you race him up the steps.

“I can get’chou some clean clothes easy—how long you been wearing those?”

“Disturbingly long.”

Joel laughs. “You meet Tommy’s wife yet?” He looks back at you shaking your head as he opens his bedroom door, “Well, she’ll take care a ya’.” He steps into the middle of the room and turns back to you and you magnetize, holding each other by your arms. “Man, when I first got here I just kept thinkin’ how much you’d love this place.”

The image of that almost makes you blush and your heart swells, knowing that he was still yours while you were gone, playing house with an imaginary you. “Damn straight I do. Fuck, you’ve just been livin’ it up.” Looking over his face, you’re beginning to relearn it.

“Well, I am now.” His expression shifts from excitement into contentment and he murmurs, “I missed you so much, baby,”

Fitting together comfortably, you join for a kiss.

The calm of the room allows you to experience your feelings wholly, inside and out; thus, a shared heat is overt and you strip your jackets, not parting lips and hurriedly reattaching your bodies.

“Shit,” you breathe out, craving him and finally being satisfied at the same time as his warm, powerful hands move over you, sliding up and down your sides, your back, up your forearm as your hand brushes over his face and into his hair and with your other you squeeze his thick bicep. He walks you into the wall, clutching your middle to him with an arm wrapped around you. His other hand drags from your face down your neck, flush against your skin as he continues slowly lowering it further, past your collarbone. Your chest expanding in a deep breath lifts it into his hand and Joel swears, then repeats in a murmur, “I missed you so much baby.” You respond with a whimper and wetter kiss, pulling him ever closer, and he swears again, the hand on your back clenching the fabric of your shirt. Then he moves it to the underside of your leg, between your thigh and your ass, and lifts, holding your thigh next to his leg with your foot dangling, toes curling in your boot. Truth is, no one has touched you since Joel, save for yourself, so he’s driving you crazy right now.

Your mouths together compose a natural melody, one motion rolling into the next, constantly finding and looking for more and you’re obsessed again with his flavor. If this lasted forever you wouldn’t even notice. But, just as he moans into your lips, Joel suddenly pulls back and holds you away by your waist.

You rest your hands on his forearms. “Joel?” You inquire, catching your breath, and then slide a hand over his cheek and under his chin to lift his head, looking for some kind of communication from his expression. He meets your eyes for only a second before he lets go of you completely, turning away and walking to the other side of the room.

You stay where you are, granting him space. “Joel? What’s wrong?” He turns to you but his head is bowed. “…Joel?” Anxiety scratches at your heart and you wipe your mouth.

Sighing heavily, he slowly rubs his hand over his face before finally speaking up, “Look… before we… go any further, I gotta ask…” he leans his hand on the short dresser and when he looks up his expression is unexpectedly serious. “Is there someone else?”

It takes you a couple seconds to put it together, but you ask anyway, just to make sure, “…What do you mean?”

Instantly, he replies, “You know what I mean.” Firmer this time, he repeats, “Is there someone else?” Confounded, you’re tongue tied, and he takes it as confirmation of his suspicions. “There is, isn’t there?” He almost sneers.

The atmosphere has shifted dramatically; just a few minutes ago he was laughing brightly with you, and about thirty seconds ago he was caressing you, amorous and loving.

“Are you joking?” Joel’s face says ‘what do you think?’ and you screw your own face up. “Are you asking me if I have some secret partner?” You ask once again just to be sure. He says nothing, only looks on unrelentingly and puts his hands on his hips, bent knee sticking out. You laugh coldly. “Holy shit.”

Near monotone, he asks, “Why’s that funny?”

“I just—wasn’t expecting this, at all, I mean this is just… do you realize how much of a jackass you’re being right now?” You pause, he says nothing. “Well, I’m not having a fucking affair. Okay? Jesus.”

Joel huffs, keeping stoney eye contact, and grinds his teeth. You let him brew in the silence. Still, after all this time, you can read him like a book—he has convinced himself that you found someone better while he was gone and have come back only to blow sand in his eyes, and then you’re going to run off to your new, superior lover, leaving him on his ass in the mud. And although he doesn’t want it to be true, he always puts so much faith into awful assumptions, and he hates being wrong.

You sigh in understanding but speak to him sternly, “Joel, you are making this shit up in your head and just putting it on me. That’s not fair. Don’t do this. There’s no reason to do this.”

Defensively, he suddenly raises his voice, “I jus’ wanna make sure I’m not steppin’ on any toes.” With a bite, he finishes, “I’m jus’ sayin’, if there is someone else, now’s the time to leave.”

Your expression turns unsympathetic, brow pinched and mouth parted in amazement, and then you counter venomously, “I don’t know who you think I am. I don’t know what kind of twisted version of me you’ve created in your head. Are you trying to call me a fucking slut? That’s the kind of narrative you've thought up? That’s what you’ve been thinking about while I’ve been gone—me betraying you?”

Joel’s eyes are closed and his head is shaking before you even finish, pinching his brow with two fingers, “No, no,”

You cut right back in, “Alright, well that’s what it fucking sounds like to me so I am going to leave now—not to run off to some paramour,” you spit, “but because you’re being a fucking asshole and need to run this one back through before you talk to me again.”

“W–wait,” He tries, but you’ve already spun on your heel, snatching up your jacket, and rush out with heavy footsteps. You don’t bother closing his front door behind you and don’t look back, not hearing anything either.

You don’t know this town yet, but you keep the same pace you left Joel’s with and just follow the road, packed white with hard snow. The sharp air makes your eyes water and you swipe your hands at them blurring your vision. Your breaths, fast with your fiery heartbeat, blow steamy clouds like puffs of white smoke.

You stop the first passerby you see, “There’s a bar here, right?” Your tongue hasn’t fully cooled yet and you try not to sound harsh. You’re almost out of breath.

“Yeah,” the tall woman’s voice is mousy and she tucks stray black hair into her hat, then turns and points, “just follow this road, you’ll come to Main Street, it’ll be on your right.” As she turns her head back to you she adds, “It’s called the Tispy Bison.”

“Thank you.” you nod, do your best to smile, and continue on.

—

A rush of warm air blows out through the door swinging open and your nose starts to run as you step into the Tipsy Bison. It appears very ‘American’ themed, with its warm, inoffensively red walls, everything country–style wood, and taxidermy wall mounts. Crowning bright soda fridges are neon red Coca–Cola logos. A few lively groups are scattered about, talking and laughing. Blinking into the reality of the massive dining hall, you wipe your nose with your sleeve; it’s so much like the world before and for some reason it intimidates you. As you scan the room, you spot Tommy at the bar and remember you’re thirsty.

He smiles when he notices you approaching but it fades and he furrows his brow as he regards your expression. You slip into the chair next to him and he turns his torso to face you, one arm resting over the back of his seat, the other on the bar with a beer in his hand.

A gravelly voice from behind the bar asks, “What can I get ya?” and you turn to a friendly looking woman with thick, coily hair and dark teeth.

“Surprise me.”

“Gotcha. Comin’ right up.” She smiles and moves away.

Turning your attention back to Tommy, his brow is still furrowed, as it is most of the time, really, and he bites his lip. “Trouble in paradise?”

You turn forward to rest your elbows on the bar and slide your head through your hands, pulling your cheeks, then resting them on the sides of your head. “Your brother’s being a little shit.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, he’s pretty good at that. What’e’do?”

During the time you’d been with Joel, you became close with his brother, too. Tommy has always been easy to talk to and you pick right up where you left off. It’s nice to have someone to talk candidly to about Joel, and you’re sure he feels the same.

“Same kind of shit he always does—assume the worst in everyone and stick them with it for no fucking reason.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty classic Joel.” He sips his beer and smacks his lips. “You know he does really love you, though.”

“No, I know, I mean, I can tell even with this,” you remove your hands from your head and turn to him, “he’s accusing me of having ‘someone else’,” you air quote as you confide, “like I’m having a fucking affair. Came outta nowhere.” Looking to the side to blow out a breath, your eyes automatically flick around your surroundings.

“He’s just insecure.”

“I know. It’s not like I’m cutting him off or anything, and I want to stay in Jackson, I just told him to… cool off, in so many words. You know I love him too, I just had to fucking leave.”

Just then, the voice sounds again beside you, “Here’s that surprise for ya.” She places a short, ribbed glass in front of you, a blood orange drink on the rocks.

“Thank you.” You immediately take a swig and it’s bittersweet and smooth.

As you do, Tommy says, “Yeah, good call. He just needs to get checked sometimes, y’know? He’ll figure it out. He’s just… yeah, he’s insecure.”

Looking down into your drink, you add, “He hates himself.” and spin the glass over the smooth bar. “That’s his worst quality. That’s the only thing I would change about him.”

Tommy sighs. “I think what makes it worse for him is how much he loves you.” He shakes his head, “He just gets so damn scared. He has no idea how strong he is, how good he is… I think we see a real different version of him than he does.” You nod. There’s a beat of silence before he continues, “It’s just… loss, y’know? It’s like he just wants’t’ beat it to the punch. He always feels like he’s doin’ sum’n wrong. Always thinkin’ it’s his fault.”

You nod again. “You said it: he sees a real different version of himself than we do. I just wish I could…” you suck your teeth and turn to him, “I keep trying to talk him out of it, you know? Do you think that works?”

He looks down to think for a while, then looks back at you and concludes, “I think… it’s gotta be him.”

You nod, “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

To lighten the mood, Tommy smiles, “Well, don’tchou worry, he’ll be crawlin’ back t’you with his tail between his legs any second now.” You ‘psh’, looking ahead and admiring the warm-toned colored bottles shelved on the wall. Then he adds, “You’ll never lose ‘im, you know.”

You sip your drink and roll his words around with it, full, mellow, but strongly bittersweet. You and Joel had been separated for a long time, wherein all you had was faith, and you gripped that rope tight and never let go, just like he would for you, just like he did for Tommy. Joel has yet to let you down—he’s fucked up many times, but he’s never let you down, because he puts his heart into everything he does; it’s maybe his most admirable and most troubling trait. He loves so hard it hurts, sometimes not just him. You’ll never run out of patience though, because he’s your Joel, and you love him to death. He hit you like a bullet, quick and good, and he’s lodged somewhere inside of you, unretrievable.

“Speak a the devil.” Tommy’s voice breaks you out of reflection, looking past you, and you turn to see Joel, halfway in the doorway, devastating eyes and all. For a moment you just watch him, awkward in the doorway, admiring his presence, but you keep a straight, neutral face. You look back at Tommy as you take a last swig of your drink and he smiles with understanding eyes.

Hopping down from your stool and strolling towards Joel, you have to bite hard back a smile, though you’re still pissed. Catching him doing the same, you briefly question why you have to do this dance instead of just leaping back into each other, mixing into your color and staying like that in his bed, which must be so soft and comfortable and warm with him in it. He is so god damn beautiful and it’s been so long that your hands twist nervously behind your back and you feel yourself blushing, so you turn your head down as you near him. You have good reason to show him you’re upset, though—the dance is important.

“Can we talk?” He asks you, voice entirely soft.

You look up at him, pause, and then nod. Joel turns back outside slowly and does more than he needs to to hold the door for you.

Winter is near its end but you’ve arrived just in time for a cold snap; the wind has picked up significantly in the short time you’ve been inside, icey and sharp, and you bend your head down against it and hug yourself. Joel starts to put his arm around you but pulls away, glancing at you with awkward steps towards his house.

“Hold me.” You answer, so he does, arm around your shoulders, curving himself around you as the wind whips. The man is a living furnace, you can feel it even like this.

—

It’s silent until you’re back in Joel’s house, too cold and windy for any kind of conversation. Adjusting to the indoors, you both blow out sighs, and Joel impulsively helps you out of your coat and hangs it on the peg next to his on the wall by the door. Then he just stands awkwardly; he’s never been good at this. What’s important, though, is that he’s trying. Waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts, you lean against a wall with your hands behind your back. After a moment, he looks around, sucking his teeth, and then moves ungainly to sit in a chair at the table. You follow and sit across from him. More silence, he fiddles with his hands on the table in front of him and grinds his teeth. Under the table, you run a finger back and forth over the wood’s grooves on its apron.

“Okay,” he starts, then pauses, keeping his gaze on his hands. “I’m sorry.” His voice sounds rehearsed, like he said ‘I’m sorry’ in his head twenty times before he spoke it. “I was wrong. I didn’t mean t’… I mean I’d be pissed too, if you said sum’n like that to me. I know that’s not you. I was jus’… scared,” he wills the word out, looking off to some spot on the floor, “You’re right, I,” he pauses, then motions his hand up in circles next to his head, “I jus’, made this whole story up in my head. I mean we haven’t even talked about, y’know, what’s happened in the past five years. I have no idea what you did or didn’t do, and it’s not my business unless you want it to be. I jus’, I don’t know,” he shifts back in his chair and fiddles with his hands again, “I was just afraid that y’d… forgott’n about me or found someone better or, uhh…y–y–”

Watching him start to fumble over his words, you decide that now is an ok time to cut in, starting quiet and gentle, “I didn’t.” Joel looks at you as you speak, his brow furrowed up. “I never forgot about you. I thought about you every day. I was scared, too, I didn’t know anything about how you were doing or where you were, I didn’t know if I was ever gonna see you again, but I just lived like I would. I couldn’t let you go. I couldn’t, I wasn’t able to. And there’s no one better, Joel,” you slide your hand over the table to take one of his. He unclasps them to fold it in and watches his thumb stroke over your hand. “You are the only one. What I feel for you can’t be touched. Even if I tried, I don’t think I could be with anyone else. But I didn’t try. All I did was miss you.”

At that, Joel takes your hand with both of his, taking a deep breath, and then leans in to place soft kisses over your knuckles, peering up at you as he does. A bolt in your core throbs heat into the rest of your body and you feel slightly dizzy. Again, you haven't had any kind of touch like this since the last time you were with Joel, so you’re starving for it, but above all, for Joel. His lips are gentle, his hands are warm and burly folded around yours.

You slip your hand out of his and get up from the table. He watches you walk to his side to fix your level of separation and he stands and joins you back into an embrace.

You sink into each other, bodies and minds fusing as if you were never apart. You match temperatures so all you feel is the pressure of his hands sliding up your back, under your shirt. In his hold, your back is arched and your hips are met; there’s barely any space between your bodies at all. You hold onto his face, running your hands over it, messing up his hair, focusing on his lips, letting him do the work on your body. Joel places a hand on the front of your thigh and starts slowly dragging it up. You twitch under it, desire like a lightning storm around under his touch. You nearly jerk into it and he finally slides his broad hand flush between your thighs. Your head falls back and he doesn’t miss a beat, moving his lips on your neck, and it forces a moan out of you.

“You like that?” He says into your skin, barely out of a kiss, nose pressed against it.

“Yes,” you whine, “please, oh my god.”

You feel Joel smile into your neck and he nips it. “Jump up.” You do, his hands out and ready to catch your thighs. This was a regular trick of yours and apparently your bodies haven’t forgotten it. As he starts for the stairs, you lean yourself over his shoulder. The placement of his hands are in both the best and worst spot, splayed just barely over every area you want him to touch. You hold onto his neck as he brings you upstairs and laugh when he kicks his bedroom door open, making it bang loudly against the wall. Once you drop back down to the ground, you connect your mouths again and immediately start to strip. While you struggle with the buttons on his shirt he undoes his belt and jeans and then yours. You rip his flannel off of him, annoyed at it, and then slide your hands under his shirt. You feel over his chest, around his back, and up his sides, relishing in it, and he chuckles into your lips before helping you pull it off. He wastes no time on your shirt, loving that you’re braless, caressing your chest, and then pulls you in, pressing your bare fronts together. You moan in the satisfaction of feeling him like this again. His calloused hands run smoothly up your back and on their way down pass briefly under your waistband. You raise him by slipping your hand all the way into his jeans, cupping his hardening cock. He swears into your mouth as you find hold of it. It electrifies you further, having forgotten about this part of him. Quickening breaths deepen the rise and fall of your chest against his.

He pulls his lips from yours and his voice is gruff when he says, “You’re killin’ me darlin’.”

The tone and the way he’s hardening in your hands is driving you wildly lustful and you tell him frankly, voice pitched high, “I want you so bad Joel I love your cock I need you to fuck me,” all of this wet into his lips.

Immediately, Joel tugs down your pants, but when they’re at your knees, he pulls away to look at you and he says “Boots.” You both laugh breathily and sit down on the edge of his bed—your pants still halfway down—undoing your laces hastily. He finishes first and then helps you untie the laces of your other shoe, both of you chuckling with heavy breaths. You kick them off and then Joel moves in front of you, taking hold of the cuffs of your jeans to pull them off. Once they are, in one swift motion, he opens your legs up with his in between them, and, still standing but leaning over you on the bed, he slips his hand back between your legs. He places it flush against you through your underwear, which would be embarrassingly dirty, but who fucking cares? They’ll be gone soon anyway. Joel’s mouth opens amorously, watching your eyes as you let out a long, embarrassingly pornographic moan at the raw enough contact. He slides down deeper, the heel of his hand pressing lightly and thrillingly on your clit and you gasp into another moan. He grins and then leans his head down to your neck, dragging his tongue up its full length.

“Fuck,” you drawl involuntarily as a shiver runs through you and you hook your arms under his to claw his back. When Joel slides his hand back up between your legs, wetness seeps from your slit. Joel chuckles erotically, his breath over the line of his saliva on your neck making it worse and your legs open wider. The heat under his hand matches that in your chest and your breaths are more desperate in want of him.

Fed up of him taking it so slow, you slide your hands under him and push him up, holding onto his biceps to pull you up with him as he stands, and lick into his mouth. Your other hand goes straight into his pants and under his briefs, teasing him like he had you. When he moans into your mouth you squeeze only slightly and then slowly move your hand up until your thumb comes to the spot just before the underside of his tip. You begin working it like that, teasing him wet and sensitive in your hand.

Joel pulls his face away from yours, eyes closed, and breathes out “Shit.” He squeezes the arm reached down and moves his hips into your hand. You keep at it, biting your lip watching him. “Ah, oh, fuck,” he mumbles, almost sluring his words, and warns, “If you don’t stop I’m gonna cum,” when you do stop, he groans.

Bringing your hand away from him, you settle it on his belly and wrap your other arm around his neck to nuzzle your face into it and mumble, “I missed your cock so much, I miss feeling it, I wanna see you cum,”

“Fuck.” Joel states, then commands, “Lay back on the bed.” You do as you’re told, propping yourself up with your forearms behind you on the bed and watch him drop his pants. Finally naked, his cock bounces to flip onto his stomach, reaching just under his belly button; dark curls hide everything else. Your sigh is almost a moan just looking at him, like a meaty roman sculpture of the exemplary man. His brow shadows sultry eyes and, like an animal in heat, you open your legs, peering up at him needily.

He slowly crawls over you and whispers, “Move up for me darlin’,” nodding his head to the side for you to lay properly on the bed, head on his pillow. He reaches past you to click on the bedside lamp and then sits up on his knees, admiring you under the golden–yellow light. He places a large hand on your stomach, adding pressure as he slivers it up to fondle your chest.

You appreciate the sentiment, but you have plenty of time for slow, worship sex, and right now, “Joel please I need you to fuck me,”

Smirking, he growls, “Since you asked so nice,” and lowers himself onto you, kissing sluggishly. He doesn’t bother to remove his face from against yours to take your underwear off, just tugs at them until they find their way to slip off. Then, as he positions himself, your thigh slides over his—it’s small, but something about it makes you sigh sensually.

“You ready for me baby?” Joel asks, hovering his lips over yours.

You could come up with some clever remark but now is not the time, so you simply whine, “Yes, Joel, please, I need you,”

“Yeah?” He says, low and lazy, and then moans softly as he eases his thick length into you. Deep satisfaction flows through you as he fills you up, humming and moaning. Your foreheads press together as you adjust, both your mouths wide open, and Joel’s fist clutches the sheets next to your head. He brings himself back out slowly until only his tip is inside you, and then his free hand clutches your side as if to hold you in place as he reinserts himself and begins thrusting, now only barely pulling any length out before plunging back in. Your lungs jump and clumsy moans pour out of you as the force of it rocks your hips.

Joel licks your cheek and then, grabbing hold of your hips to keep himself inside you, pulls himself to sit on his knees. Stretching your arms up, you bear yourself to him, and his mouth has yet to close. He bites his lip before starting to fuck you again, both harder and faster, holding your lower back completely off of the bed.

“Only me, huh?” He says, breaths bumping as he drives himself into you, “I’m the only one that touches you?”

“Yes,” you moan out.

“You touched yourself, though did’n you?” You answer in the same way, “You thought about me while you did, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you sound, high pitched as he starts to fuck you harder.

“Did it feel this good?”

“No,” your drawn out answer catches with the force of his hips pounding against you.

Joel’s head falls back as he speeds up and you already feel yourself start to constrict around him.

“Shit,” he looks back down at you, hums aggressively, and slows his pace dramatically. “No baby, not yet, not yet.” As he pulls out fully, precum flicks onto your stomach and he drops your hips. Back down on top of you, your body weighs into the bed under his and your mouths bond again.

Joel can’t keep his cock out of you for long, though, keeping up messy kisses, each rolling into the next in a flux, he shoves his hand down to slip back into you and fucks a quick tempo that makes the bed creak. One of his hands stays planted on the bed next to your head and the other goes back to hold your hip, pulling you into him with each of his thrusts. Angled slightly up inside of you, he hits a spot that produces a guttural moan from you, and while your mouth is wide open with it, Joel doesn’t quit biting and licking at your lips.

Your body reacts without you, your hand slithering over him—up his arms, his torso, his back, one landing to grip his hair and the other reaching at his hip. The way he bucks into you now hinders your ability to kiss but your faces rub and touch, sharing the same hot air, moaning over each other.

After one loud, long moan, Joel pulls out of you again in a swift motion, moaning through pants.

“Joel why the fuck do you keep stopping,” you slap your palms on his chest in frustration, legs still spread under him.

“Well I js’ don’t wanna cum too fast,” he answers innocently.

“Joel I have been waiting five years…” he starts to chuckle and you smile, “for you to cum.” You slap his chest again and then decide to take this matter into your own hands, pushing him up to get yourself on top. You straddle him, his cock resting stiff and shining on his stomach. Back up at his face, you look into dark eyes, his lips parted with heavy breaths, and you slide your fingers through his hair, gripping a bunch, silver strands highlighted in the light. Keeping eye contact, Joel’s fingers trail lightly down either of your sides as you sit up, sliding his joystick into your hold, and he hums as you sit down on it. After adjusting to his throbbing size, you come up and back down slowly a few times, and then begin swinging your hips to fuck him. A loud, long moan cracks out of him and he closes his eyes and seizes your hips. You release his hair and instead hold into his thick, veiny forearms like handlebars as you accelerate. He moans, long and loud again, and, keeping up a beat with your hips, you lay down on him, pressing your body against his, and eat the moans from his mouth. He adjusts his hold by wrapping an arm around the middle of your back to hold you down and squeezing your ass with the other as if to help your hips along. To keep yourself stabilized enough to keep your mouths together—you could barely call it kissing anymore, just sliding tongues and lips however you can—you plant your hands on the bed with your arms like you would doing a pushup.

Even though you’re on top, Joel is in control now, holding you to fuck up into you.

He angles his head down so that your foreheads stay pressed but he can speak, “Fuck babygirl you feel so good, so fuckin’ tight, I fill you up so good, huh? Pussy’s just for me to cum in, huh? All fr’ me? All mine? Can you tell me you’re all mine?” His words and breaths catch with the rhythm of the surging flux of your bodies rolling together. You feel his muscles jolting in his lower abdomen as he drives in and out and those in his arm twitching against your back with the force of it. The way he fills you is carnally satisfying and overdue and you never want it to stop.

“Yes, yes, all yours, all for you, my pussy’s all for you—fuuck—yours, my pussy belongs to you,”

“Thas’ right, babygirl, you belong to me.” He takes your bottom lip with his teeth and pulls your mouth back to roll his tongue into and unfurls his arm around you to grasp a bundle of hair.

Suddenly, he maneuvers you to flump your back on the bed, bringing himself back on top, and immediately stuffs himself back into you. He grips your hips again to fuck you like he was before, controlling you like a doll, and you grab onto his wrists.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he continues, fucking with an immediately brutal pace, hitting you somewhere deep and perfect but he’s talking over you too much to be able to tell him you’re going to cum, “I was so spolied, I didn’ realize how spoiled I was with this lil’ pussy,” he bumps you hard and rough a couple times to emphasize, “perfect lil’ pussy on my perfect lil’ girl, my sweet girl, so good to me,” Joel tilts forward, keeping himself securely deep between your legs, and releases one of your hips—which you would not be surprised to be bruised exactly in the form of his fingers—to stroke his hand over your cheek, and then gently hooks his thumb in your mouth, pulling your lip out to the side. “Now I get t’ fuck you every fuckin’ night, cause you’re all mine n’ I’m all yours, gonna make you cum every fuckin’ night,” your hips inadvertently lurch against him and you bark a moan and his thumb trails out of your mouth as your head leans back onto the bed. You haven’t had your body move like this in awhile, an animal in and of itself, innately greedy for its mate. Joel sounds almost excited when he says, “Ooh, oh, you gonna cum babygirl?” He sits back on his calves rather than standing on his knees and readjusts his hold on your hips, hands digging into the flesh defining your waist to your hips, and pulls you into his rough, uncoordinated thrusts, driving the entirety of his shaft into you so deep that you feel pressure pushing up in your stomach with each rocking tug. He pants out moans, watching you attentively as your face screws up while you reach your personal crescendo.

The only time you feel this desperate for something is when you’re about to die—such a blind need, a moment stretched out that you will to continue until you are satiated, and oh does Joel deliver.

“Go on babygirl, go on n’ cum for me, cum around my cock, be a good girl an’ show me you’re mine, I wanna make you cum, baby cum for me, cum for me,”

His pleading encouragement is more than enough to pierce the balloon swelling in your stomach, already being bumped rapturously by his manhood. One of your hands is thrown back, grasping at the sheets, the other remaining around his wrist. Your eyes roll back in your head, you suck in a breath and there is a moment of silence, save for the creaking bed, before you break it with a ridiculous, long moan, perceiving only the bursts of ecstasy from Joel’s messy pace, which he quickens with breathy moans. Your contractions around him are dramatic, essentially sucking his dick inside of you like instinct. He pulls you against him and is mostly still besides his hips, which rapidly lurch, drawing out your orgasm to overlap with his. He falls silent again, mouth open and his brow furrowed, eyes also nearly rolled back in his head, as he mechanically glides short in and outs, nearly all of him buried inside of you, pulling back an inch at a time at most as he uses your trembling, sheathlike pussy to stroke out his cum. Then, as his hips jerk forward, leaning into you, and then jerk in again, moans squeeze out of his throat, and he finishes pressed into you.

Panting, you stay pressed and gaze at each other, more or less astonished.

“God damn.” Joel is the first to comment.

You laugh, out of breath, feeling him ooze inside of you. “We really get to do that every night.”

“My god I’m in heaven.” He half jokes with a smile, then relaxes your position with a huff, letting his softening length fall out and rest over you. Joel runs his hands up and down your body in two broad strokes, looking you over, then smirks and chuckles breathily. Then he slaps your thighs and simply offers, “Shower?” and laughs as your face lights up.

“Fuck I almost forgot about that!” You grin with wide, excited eyes, and follow him off the bed, squeezing your legs together a little, still filled with his cum, as you walk to the bathroom attached to Joel’s room. You admire the back of him as he turns the squeaky knobs. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve gotten this kind of full view of him; as many times as you’ve been naked with each other, it’s almost always had to have been somewhat ducked and rushed. His back is casually muscular and he has ever so slight love handles. A knee bent outwards shows off a round ass.

Hearing the water start to spray, you can’t help a giggle, eager, and he twists to you with a smirking grin and laughs.

“Oh man,” he chuckles as he turns his back, meticulously adjusting the temperature, then twists his head again, looking at you expectantly, “Well come on, then,” and you patter over. He gently takes your hand to lead you into the square stall, and moves behind you to slide the glass door shut.

There is no need for him to walk you through the process of taking a shower, but he slowly guides you under the spray anyway, and you gasp as it hits you, still heating up, not used to the sensation. You hadn't realized that it’s been so long that you’ve forgotten how a shower feels and it disturbs you slightly, feeling a little feral versus Joel’s domesticated cleanliness, but his light, absent minded smile eases the thoughts out as he walks in a few slow steps, backing you up to join you under the showerhead’s broad spray. He leans his head back, closes his eyes under the water, and lets go of you to smooth his hair back as the water soaks it. When he opens his eyes again, he smiles at you and smoothes his hands over your wet face.

“Turn around,” he nods, and you do. He stops touching you, leaving you unnerved for only a moment until his hands come back over your upper back, cool soap gliding them over your skin. He squeezes your shoulders lightly and it makes you sigh, then slides his hands over your shoulders, up and down each arm individually, adding more slight, relaxing pressure, and then his hands follow the personal downward design of your body as he shifts his body against your back. Stubble tickles your neck and you giggle as he nudges in to place innocent kisses over your neck while he washes your chest, then slipping soapy hands down your sides to your waist, hips, and what he can reach of your thighs. Humming out a deep sigh, you feel dazed and limp under the hot, deeply relaxing water. Joel embraces you from behind, just resting his face in your neck, standing still with his arms around you.

Suddenly, you’re hit with the urge to cry. This is the safest you’ve felt in a long, long time. Not only are you in Jackson, a secure compound where you can go see a friend for a drink and take a hot shower with the promise of fresh clothes, but your love is finally with you, solid and warm, holding you with strong arms and gentle lips. You can’t hold it back, and when Joel feels it he removes himself and turns you around. “What’s wrong babygirl?” concern contorts his face.

Smiling as much as your crying allows, you answer, “Nothing.”

Understanding, Joel pouts his lips in an emotional smile and pulls you back in, hooking his arms under yours to support your weight, and your arms follow up around his neck. “I know.” You let it go and weep quietly against him. “It’s alright baby. I got’chou. You’re alright, darlin’.” He reassures you. After a couple minutes, you calm, suddenly very tired, barely opening your eyes when Joel pulls away. “Oh, baby,” he chuckles, “don’t go to sleep in the shower. Lemme finish you up real quick, then you can go to bed n’ I’ll get you some new clothes from Maria.”

“No,” you murmur, “don’t leave me.”

“Alright, alright,” he pulls you back in, “I’ll stay with you. I’ll never leave you.” He sighs serenely into the crook of your neck. “You can just borrow some’m my clothes, n’ I’ll talk to Maria in the mornin’. Okay?” You nod. “Alright, baby,” he readjusts his embrace around you, “let’s just get into bed, we can give you a proper shower later. Plenty a time. You can take a shower every day if you want, a hot shower every day. An’ I’ll stay with you every night. Jus’ like like this.” Joel’s hands rub up and down your body, “Warm like this. Every day will be warm jus’ like this now, my love.”

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